Who the Hell Are You?
by poorpiratelass
Summary: Through Season 1. Searching for their father, Sam and Dean end up hunting a wendigo – and meet Jayne Gibson, an angry, dirty, bruised up hunter looking for her stepsister. That meeting will change everything.
1. Searching for Stephen

Who the Hell Are You?

Summary: Through Season 1, starts episode 2. Searching for their father, Sam and Dean end up in Colorado hunting a wendigo – where they meet Jayne Gibson, an angry, dirty, bruised up hunter looking for her stepsister, Lynn Juarez. That meeting will change everything.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

"In this world, if you read the papers darlin'  
You know everybody's fighting on with each other.  
You got no one you can count on babe  
Not even your own brother.  
So if someone comes along  
He gonna give you some love and affection  
I'd say get it while you can."

"Get It While You Can," Janis Joplin

* * *

Chapter 1: Searching for Stephen

Jayne Gibson sat in the driver's seat of the old, gray Nissan pick up truck, driving through the twisty, heavily wooded back roads of Lost Creek, Colorado, at speeds the roads were never meant to be navigated. Beside her, bent intently over her laptop, sat her stepsister, Lynn Juarez, biting her lip.

"He's coming up close to the Lodge now," Lynn announced nervously, referring to the park ranger station for the nearby Lost Creek National Park. Jayne nodded, nervous as well, but less inclined to show it. "You think he'll be happy to see us?" Lynn asked.

Jayne shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

Lynn sighed heavily. Her shoulder length wavy black hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, but was quickly falling out of the elastic as she played nervously with it. She looked over at her stepsister, anxiety in her big, chocolaty brown eyes. "I wish he'd stay in one place for longer than thirty seconds," she murmured.

Jayne's clear gray eyes never left the road. "He'll have to slow down eventually," she replied.

Lynn returned her gaze to the laptop monitor. She was staring at a blinking dot that was traveling along a digital map. "We almost caught up to him in Palo Alto," she reminded her stepsister. The words were hopeful, as though she was reassuring herself.

Jayne nodded. "Well, we'll just have to actually catch up to him this time," she announced, giving her stepsister a grin.

The grin was meant to be reassuring, but Lynn didn't buy the bravado for a moment. "Right," she agreed halfheartedly, her eyes still fixed on the blinking dot.

Ever since their half brother Stephen had gone missing nearly two months ago, the two women had been tirelessly searching for him. Jayne had never been so glad in her life that she'd stooped to the level of a nosy, interfering parent. If it wasn't for the tracking device she'd hidden on her brother's beloved 1970 Plymouth Superbird, searching for Stephen would have yielded as many results as searching for a needle in a haystack.

Lynn, who had protested the decision at the time, was no longer a critic. In fact, since Stephen had first disappeared, it was Lynn who had been staring at the laptop 24/7.

Jayne sighed, shaking loose strands of long white-blond hair out of her eyes. "He still headed for the Lodge?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm," Lynn murmured, still staring at the screen.

"All right," Jayne said, hitting the gas. "Hold on, Lynn. I'm putting the pedal to the floor."

* * *

"So, Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote," Sam Winchester announced. He was wandering around the Lost Creek National Park ranger station with the company of his older brother, Dean. "It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, and abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place."

"Dude," Dean said. He was squinting at a photo on the wall. "Check out the size of this freaking bear."

Sam raised an eyebrow. Clearly, his brother had not been paying very much attention to his informational monologue. He walked up behind his brother and peered over his shoulder at the picture.

Dean was not impressed for nothing. The bear was freaking huge.

"And," Sam went on. "A dozen or more grizzlies in the area. It's no nature hike, that's for sure."

"You boys aren't planning to go out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?"

Both brothers turned at the voice of the ranger behind them. "Oh, no, sir," Sam was quick to pipe up. "We're environmental studies majors from UC Boulder. Just working on a paper."

"Recycle, man," Dean added, punching the air.

"Bull," the ranger replied.

Both boys looked startled at the man's response. "You're friends with that Haley girl, right?" he asked.

Dean seemed to think that over for a moment. "Yes," he agreed. "Yes, we are, Ranger Wilkinson."

The ranger gave a short, unimpressed chuckle. "Well, I will tell you exactly what I told her," he said. "Her brother filled out a back country permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth. So it's not exactly a missing person's, now is it?"

"No," Dean returned, shaking his head in agreement.

"Tell that girl to quit worrying," the ranger went on. "I'm sure her brother's just fine."

"We will," Dean assured him. "That Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?"

"That is putting it mildly."

"Actually, you know what might help is if I could show her a copy of that permit," Dean continued. "You know, so she can see her brother's return date."

Dean Winchester's charm was irresistible, even to other men. Five minutes later, the Winchesters were walking out of the ranger station, a copy of the permit in hand. "Ha-ha," Dean laughed triumphantly.

"What, are you cruising for a hook up or something?" Sam asked, sounding rather put out.

"What do you mean?"

"The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?"

Dean gave his brother an incredulous look. When they were younger, Sam had always been the one to play it cautious. He was always the one who wanted to do research first, hunting later. Now, ever since the scene back at Stanford University, his younger brother had turned into some sort of gung-ho, vengeance seeking crazy person.

He supposed he couldn't blame him. After all, seeing your girlfriend burn up, pinned to the ceiling would be enough to destroy anyone, let alone someone who had lost their mother in the exact same way.

But Dean and his father had been hunting whatever evil son of a bitch it was that killed Dean and Sam's mother for nearly twenty-two years now. No matter how much losing Jessica had hurt Sam, he needed to calm down. Revenge required patience.

"I don't know," Dean replied. "Maybe so we know what we're walking into before we walk into it."

Sam quickly noticed the look his brother was giving him. "What?"

"Well, since when are you all shoot first, ask questions later anyway?"

"Since now," Sam returned in a deadly serious tone of voice. He climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala.

"Oh, really?" Dean muttered to himself, somewhat amused and yet still concerned. A rumbling sound caught his attention, and he turned over his shoulder to see an old gray pick up pull into the ranger station parking lot. "Wow," he said, still to himself. "Look at that POS."

Shaking his head, he climbed into the Impala and started her up. He didn't notice the two women climb out of the truck as he drove away.

* * *

Jayne slammed the door of the pick up closed behind her, eyeing the black 1967 Chevy Impala as it rolled out of the parking lot.

"Damn," she said, smirking over at Lynn. "Nice car."

Lynn rolled her eyes at her stepsister. She sent a nervous glance all around the parking lot. "I don't see Stephen's Superbird," she announced.

Jayne looked around the parking lot as well. "Yeah," she agreed. "I don't either."

Lynn seemed almost on the verge of tears. "The tracking system said he would be here!" she exclaimed.

Noting the hysterical pitch to her stepsister's voice, Jayne took charge and attempted to be soothing. "It'll be all right, Lynn," she said. "Maybe he was here and he left. Or maybe he parked somewhere else. Let's just go inside and ask, ok?"

Lynn took a deep breath and nodded. The two young women walked purposefully into the ranger station.

Jayne glanced around the room. She saw three dimensional maps of the area, and photos of both landscapes and some pretty huge animals, but no park rangers.

"What is he even doing out here, anyway?" Lynn murmured, rather shakily.

Jayne glanced over at her stepsister. She shrugged, and tried to think of a plausible explanation that wouldn't terrify Lynn. "Maybe he's on a hunt," she suggested.

Lynn actually looked hopeful for a moment. "You think?"

Again Jayne shrugged. "Yeah, why not?" Her story was so good that she could feel even herself being cheered by the prospect. "Maybe there's something out here and Stephen found out about it. So he came up here to check it out."

Lynn almost smiled – but became crestfallen mere seconds later. "But why wouldn't he have called to tell us?" she asked.

Jayne loved her stepsister and all, but the girl sure was a downer. The question killed not only Lynn's hopes, but Jayne's too. "I don't know," she sighed. "Maybe… maybe he doesn't want us to get involved."

Lynn didn't buy the story. In all honesty, neither did Jayne. "Why wouldn't he want us to get involved?" she challenged her stepsister. "Why would he rush off and not call us? Why is he doing this, Jayne? God, what is wrong with him?"

Her questions petered out in a high, sob-like squeak. Jayne glanced quickly over at her stepsister. Lynn wasn't crying – but her hand was pressed to her mouth, and she was blinking furiously. It was only a matter of minutes before the tears started to roll.

"Stop it, Lynn," Jayne ordered. "I know you're upset. I'm upset too. But this isn't helping us. We need to be calm if we're going to find Stephen."

Lynn nodded, and took another deep, steadying breath.

"Everything all right out here?"

The two girls looked up at the sudden voice, startled. There was a park ranger standing in the room, watching them with concern. Jayne forced herself to smile and walked over to the man.

"Hi, I'm Jayne Gibson," she introduced herself. "This is my stepsister, Lynn Juarez."

"Ranger Wilkinson," the man replied, shaking her outstretched hand.

"Nice to meet you," Jayne said. "Um… we're looking for somebody."

"Oh no," the ranger rolled his eyes. "Not again. Look, if you're friends with that Haley girl, tell her…"

"What?" Lynn interrupted. "We don't know any Haley. We're looking for our brother, Stephen Juarez."

The ranger frowned. "Oh," he said. "Sorry about that. Is he out on a hike or something?"

"Well, actually, we're not sure," Jayne replied. "See, we know he came out here to Lost Creek, but we don't really know what happened to him once he got here. He's been missing for a while and we're getting kind of worried. You wouldn't have happened to have seen a bright orange 1970 Plymouth Superbird around here?"

The ranger shook his head slowly. "Can't say that I have," he replied.

"Well, did you see our brother?" Lynn asked. "He looks a lot like me, except his skin's not so dark. He's closer to Jayne's height, though, and he has gray eyes."

Again, the ranger shook his head in the negative. "Doesn't ring a bell," he said apologetically. "About when would he have been out here?"

"Anytime between now and two days ago," Lynn replied.

"Definitely haven't seen him," the ranger announced. "Now, I wouldn't be too worried, mind you. If it's only been two days, then he's probably just out on a hike and been too busy to call. Reception's not so good out in those woods, you know. I'll go through our records for you girls and see if he signed a camping permit with us."

"Thank you so much," Lynn exclaimed.

"Yeah, thank you," Jayne added. She was grateful too, even though the gratitude in her voice was a lot less obvious than the gratitude in Lynn's.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, Jayne and Lynn were back out in the parking lot and terribly disappointed. Stephen Juarez had not signed a permit with the ranger station, and no one could remember seeing him or his car. Silently, the two climbed back in their pick up truck.

Jayne didn't start the engine right away. She waited for Lynn to boot her computer up and check the tracking system again. A few minutes later, Lynn announced, "Well, he may not be up here, but he's still in the area. Guess we should stick around."

"Guess so," Jayne returned. "Hey, maybe if he _is_ on a hunt, we should check into the local lore. Give us a hint as to where Stephen might be."

Lynn nodded. "Maybe," she murmured. "Let's go to the local library."

"You got it," Jayne replied, starting up the truck. The two of them drove towards town in silence.

Despite the conversation inside the ranger station, both sisters knew it was plausible that their brother was on a hunt. Not just any hunt: If Stephen was hunting, he was hunting something supernatural. They weren't sure what reasons he could possibly have for not communicating with them, but the three of them had been hunting the evil and unexplainable since they were old enough to hold a gun properly. Hunting was a part of them – a part of them that just couldn't be ignored, no matter what the circumstance.

Once they had realized what was really hiding out there in the dark, the three siblings could never just pretend it wasn't there. No matter what was going on with Jayne and Lynn's brother, they knew he would never be able to resist a hunt.

* * *

Lynn sat across the computer station from her stepsister in the library, carefully looking up local legends and strange cases throughout Lost Creek's history. On the floor was her laptop, and every twenty minutes or so, Lynn found herself picking it up and checking the tracking system for her brother's whereabouts. He was still in the area, much to her relief.

Every once in a while, Lynn would glance up at Jayne. Her stepsister was frowning at the monitor in front of her, and had been ever since they'd sat down. Lynn sighed heavily. Jayne was such a liar. She knew what Jayne was really doing over there. She did it in every town, and she always lied about it.

"What are you looking at?" Lynn asked her stepsister.

Jayne looked up, mildly startled. "Uh… nothing," she replied. "You know, just local lore and all that. Haven't really found anything yet."

Lynn was quiet for a moment, still watching her stepsister. "You know," she said finally. "I know you're lying."

Jayne looked up again, and frowned at Lynn. "What?"

"You heard me," Lynn retorted. "I know you're not really looking up local lore. You're doing what you always do when we follow Stephen's tracking device to a new town. You're checking the obits."

Jayne's guilty countenance gave it away – but she still tried valiantly to cover it up. "No I'm not," she said.

"Yes you are," Lynn returned. "You're checking the obits, and local hospital records for signs of Stephen, just like you always do."

Jayne stared wordlessly at her stepsister. She was right: Jayne _was_ in fact doing that very thing. But that didn't mean she wanted Lynn to know about it. When it came to their missing brother, Lynn always got very emotional – and Jayne didn't think she could handle the possibility that Stephen might be hurt or dead.

"I'm glad you do that," Lynn whispered.

Jayne looked at her stepsister. Lynn was staring at the monitor. "I'm glad you do that," she repeated, louder this time. "I'm glad you check that stuff. I know it needs to be done, but… you're always so much more under control than I am. You have a handle on things. I… I don't think I could do that. I don't think I could look through the obits and the hospital records for… for… for him. I think… I think it would make me lose my mind."

Jayne stared at her. Finally, Lynn looked up from the monitor and caught Jayne's eye. Jayne smirked. "Yeah, well," she replied, attempting to make light of the situation. "You always were a big girl."

Lynn sighed, shaking her head and smiling. "Well, I am a girl," she pointed out. "And you're a girl too."

"Yeah, but you act like such a wuss!"

"Shut up!"

The two of them were quiet for a moment. "So…" Jayne murmured. "You find anything yet?"

"Actually, yeah," Lynn replied. "There's been several reports of missing hikers this month out on Blackwater Ridge. It's a pretty isolated spot out in the park. Not the sort of place you go, you know, unless you're an experienced woodsman. Well, I did some more checking, and I found out that this isn't the first time it's happened. Actually, there have been several attacks and disappearances in the area – and they all seem to happen every twenty-three years."

Jayne raised an eyebrow. "Ok… that's… weird."

"You don't know the half of it," Lynn returned. "The last time this happened was 1982. Well, the time before that, back in 1959, one camper survived a supposed grizzly attack – a kid. I did some poking around, and found a few of the rangers' first hand accounts. When they found the kid, they say he was delusional. Thought something… something unnatural had killed his parents. Something that moved faster than lightening, something that managed to unlock the cabin door – something evil. Something that definitely wasn't a grizzly bear, you know what I mean?"

Jayne nodded. "Yeah, I hear you," she said. "But how can we be sure the rangers aren't right? Maybe the kid was scared, and his imagination created something that wasn't there. Turned the grizzly into something else."

Lynn raised her eyebrow at her stepsister. "Oh, please. Name one time in all the hunting we've done together that it was ever 'just someone's imagination'."

Jayne grinned ruefully. "All right," she said. "Point taken."

"Besides," Lynn went on. "These attacks happen every twenty-three years. Not just every once in a while – twenty three years on the mark. That's not normal, Jayne. Something's out there on Blackwater Ridge."

The two fell quiet. "All right," Jayne agreed. "There's something out there. Now what do we think it is?"

Lynn blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. "Well, here's what we got to go on: it attacks like a bear, claws and everything. It can unlock doors. Not only that, it _needs_ to unlock doors. And, most importantly, it moves lightening fast."

"All right, so if it _needs_ to unlock doors, then it can't be a spirit or anything like that," Jayne noted.

"Right," Lynn agreed. "It's got to be a creature."

"Awesome," Jayne grinned. "That makes it easier to kill."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Do you have to be such a… such a… such a dude?"

Jayne shrugged, clearly not bothered by the comment. "So what are we thinking here? Skin walker? Black dog? Hellhound?"

Lynn shook her head. "No," she murmured. "Actually, I think it's a wendigo."

"Wendigo?" Jayne frowned.

"Yeah, you know, that Native American legend. A human is forced to eat human flesh to survive, and once they do, they turn into an evil, demonic being."

"I _know_ what a wendigo is!" Jayne snapped. "Why do you _think_ it's a wendigo?"

"Well, a wendigo usually forms from men like hunters, trappers, miners… that sort of thing. You know, men who are likely to get lost in a blizzard and need to… well… eat one another to survive."

"So?"

"So Blackwater Ridge is full of old abandoned mines," Lynn returned. "Mines that haven't been used since twenty three years before the first attacks and disappearances."

Jayne fell silent. "So," Lynn smirked. "Wendigo?"

Jayne smirked back. "All right," she agreed. "Wendigo."

Lynn's smirk faded. "Do you think Stephen's out there?" she asked in a small voice. "Do you think he went looking for the wendigo?"

Jayne studied her stepsister hard. Lynn met her eyes, but Jayne wasn't fooled by the piercing gaze. Her lip was trembling.

She sighed. "Honestly, Lynn? Stephen could be freaking anywhere. I don't know if he's hunting the wendigo or not, and if he is, I have no clue if he's out on Blackwater Ridge, or still researching from the comfort of a motel room. But I know this much: there's something evil out in those woods, something that's been hurting innocent people. And we have to go out there, and we have to find it, and we have to kill it. That's our job, Lynn. We kill things that hurt the innocent."

Lynn nodded, determination settling over her face. "You're right," she said. "We have to stop this thing."

"Glad to know we're on the same page," Jayne grinned. "Now, let's discuss our next big problem."

"What's that?"

"Well, in case you haven't noticed Lynn, you and I aren't exactly what I would call 'wilderness survival' material. Not to mention, we aren't exactly familiar with the area. So how do you propose we get to Blackwater Ridge and find this wendigo without getting totally lost and then dying?"

Lynn smirked. "Way ahead of you, Jay-nee." Jayne glowered at the term of endearment. "I found several maps of the area, and I am printing them out as we speak. All we need is a compass, some weapons, and some previsions, and I think we can do this."

"You _think_?" Jayne asked incredulously.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Oh, would you calm down? I've got this; everything will be fine."

Jayne still looked unconvinced. "All right," she said in a sing-song voice. "If you say so."

"Just you wait and see, little Miss I Don't Support My Stepsister."

"I support my stepsister," Jayne retorted. Lynn smirked again, and got up out of her seat, headed for the printers on the other side of the room.

Her stepsister gone, Jayne let out a heavy sigh. "I think I'm about to make the biggest mistake of my life."

* * *

Early the next morning, Dean Winchester drove his Impala up to the end of the road, where it dead-ended into the woods. Sam sat in the seat beside him, looking surly.

Yesterday had been different. Sam had been back in his prime. Everything had felt like normal. The two of them had gone to see 'that Haley girl' and found out the story behind her and her brother. They'd learned why she was so concerned about him. And they'd gotten some video footage that Sam the computer-geek had managed to slow way, way down in order to find a fast moving shadow in the background.

The rest had been simple. Dean's nerdy little brother had done what he was best at: research. The two of them had gone to interview the only survivor of a bear attack in 1959 – and with the aid of Sam's big, understanding puppy-dog eyes, had managed to get the whole story out of the old man.

Whatever had attacked the man when he was young had clearly not been a grizzly. It didn't take long for Sam and Dean to conclude it was some sort of creature, probably a skin walker or a black dog. They had decided to head out with Haley, her little brother, and their guide that very morning and kill whatever evil son of a bitch was lurking on Blackwater Ridge.

Dean had almost thought things were getting back to the way they were supposed to be. But the surly look on his brother's face that morning, coupled with the argument they'd had about Haley the night before, convinced him otherwise.

The Winchester brothers climbed out of their car, and came face to face with Haley, her little brother Ben, and their guide. "You guys got room for two more?" Dean called out, attempting to be cheery.

Haley scoffed. "Wait, you want to come with us?"

"Who are these guys?" the guide asked.

"Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue," Haley returned, her annoyance more than evident.

"You're rangers?" the guide asked, sounding doubtful.

"That's right," Dean replied.

"And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" Haley retorted.

Dean looked down at his shoes. He didn't see anything wrong with what he was wearing. "Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts," he smirked.

"You think this is funny?" the guide snapped. "This is dangerous back country out there. Her brother could be hurt."

Dean stopped and gave the guide an amused look. "Believe me, I know how dangerous it can be," he lied. "We just want to help them find their brother. That's all."

The guide looked surly, but that didn't bother Dean. What did bother Dean was the abandoned gray pick up on the side of the road. The very same pick up that he had seen pull into the ranger station the day before.

He frowned. Haley's car was parked by the Impala. The guide owned the red truck on the other side of the road. Whose truck was this?

"Anyone know whose Nissan that is?" he asked, pointing at the truck.

Haley and the guide exchanged looks and shrugged. "Nope," the guide replied. "Why?"

"Just curious," Dean returned. "I guess it's just some hikers."

He glanced over at Sam. The look they exchanged was enough. Sam recognized the truck too. Hopefully, they weren't being followed.


	2. Wendigo

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to Nelle07 for the review!

* * *

Chapter 2: Wendigo

Deep in the backcountry of Lost Creek, Colorado, Jayne Gibson and Lynn Juarez were stomping through the undergrowth with a sense of ill ease. Lynn was in front, holding a map and a compass, and Jayne was behind her, looking rather skeptical about this whole wilderness adventure they'd embarked on.

They progressed in silence. After all, they _were_ hunting a wendigo. The wendigo was a super-hunter, and the last thing they needed was to warn it they were coming.

Finally, after half a day's hike, Lynn stopped and pulled out her GPS. Jayne rolled her eyes.

"Nerd," she announced.

Lynn sent her stepsister a nasty look over her shoulder. "Yeah, whatever. You know you're glad I bought this."

Jayne made a face. Lynn returned to her GPS. "Our coordinates are 35, -111," she told her stepsister.

"Whoop-de-freaking-do," Jayne returned. "Why do I care?"

"Because according to the map," Lynn replied. "We are officially at Blackwater Ridge."

"Great," Jayne said, looking around her. "Let's go find us a wendigo, shall we?"

Lynn smirked, and started walking again. Jayne followed. The two of them fought off bugs and branches as they pushed their way through the woods, again trying to be as quiet as possible. Jayne unzipped her backpack and pulled out two of the flare guns they'd bought. If they were in the wendigo's hunting grounds now, it wouldn't do to wander around weaponless. And, as both stepsisters knew too well, the only way to kill a wendigo was to light it up.

"Lynn," she whispered.

Her stepsister turned back to look at her. Jayne tossed her one of the flare guns. Lynn caught it and gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks," she whispered back.

Jayne nodded and the two continued their hike. Soon, they stumbled upon something very unsettling.

It was a campsite. Or rather, it had been. Now, it resembled a crime scene. The tents were in shreds, the gear was kicked around haphazardly, and there was blood everywhere.

"Oh my God," Lynn murmured.

Jayne winced. "Wonder who was camping here?"

The two girls began poking around the ruined tents. They found very little that could help them in their hunt. Finally, Lynn noticed the drag marks.

"Jayne," she murmured.

Her stepsister appeared at her side. She immediately saw the marks in the dirt. "Bodies were dragged," she murmured.

Lynn nodded. "Yep."

"Hey," Jayne gave her sister a grin. "At least we have a trail to follow."

Lynn did not look impressed _or_ amused. Jayne shrugged, and followed the trail, Lynn hot on her heels. Unfortunately, the trail only continued about five more feet, and then dead-ended into the woods.

The two women stopped in their tracks and stared at the marks – or, rather, at the lack of marks. They exchanged a look. "Well, that makes things a bit more difficult," Jayne announced.

Lynn chewed her lip, looking worried. Jayne stepped forward and began glancing up in the trees. Finally, after a few minutes, she pointed at one tree and said, "There."

Frowning, Lynn followed her finger and took a good look at the tree. Some of the branches seemed to be broken off. "You think…?"

Jayne nodded. "Let's go."

Lynn didn't follow her stepsister. After a few steps, Jayne finally noticed. She stopped, turned around, and raised an eyebrow at the other woman. "What?" she said. "Aren't you coming?"

Lynn was chewing her lip again. Nervously, she met Jayne's eyes. "Jayne…" she murmured. "You know, we might be about to get ourselves really lost out here."

"Yeah, I know," Jayne replied. "I've been thinking that since yesterday afternoon, when you told me not to worry because you 'got this'."

Lynn made a face at her. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, jackass."

She smirked. "Anytime."

Sighing heavily, Lynn followed her stepsister into the woods.

They followed the damaged trees for a long time, possibly for longer than an hour. Soon, the girls found themselves at a loss. There was not a broken limb in sight. The trail had grown cold.

Jayne sighed heavily, tucking a loose strand of bright blond hair behind her ear. "Well, this is good," she announced, sarcastically.

Before Lynn could voice a complaint of her own, the two girls were startled to hear distant screaming. It was a man, and he was calling for help.

"Oh my god, what if that's Stephen?" Lynn exclaimed, darting forward. Jayne caught her by the arm, stopping her. The other girl gave her an incredulous look, but Jayne only shook her head.

"It's a wendigo, remember?" she said. "They can imitate the sound of a human voice."

Lynn stared at her stepsister. "You really _do_ remember what a wendigo is," she murmured, impressed. Jayne rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, well, I'm not totally stupid, Lynn."

"Just an underachiever?"

Jayne glared at her. Lynn smiled softly. Once Jayne's glare faded, so did Lynn's smile. The worry returned to her eyes. Jayne could barely remember a time when Lynn's face hadn't been clouded with worry. Ever since Stephen had disappeared, the girl barely cracked a real smile.

"So, I guess we shouldn't go check it out," Lynn said quietly. The screaming had stopped, but Jayne could tell Lynn was desperate to find out for sure whether or not it was the wendigo – or their brother.

"Of course we're going to go check it out," Jayne replied, grinning. "Just, you know… carefully."

Lynn managed a grin in return. The two women made their way through the woods, towards the spot where the screams had come from. Each held their flare gun tightly, expecting something to pop out at them at any moment.

They didn't have long to wait. At least half an hour later, as they pressed on through the undergrowth, they heard a rustling sound in the leaves. Immediately, the two women stopped in their tracks. "Did you hear that?" Lynn whispered.

Jayne nodded, spooked as well, but damned if she was going to show it. "Maybe it was just a deer or something," she murmured unconvincingly.

Cautiously, the two began moving again. The rustling happened once more. Lynn froze. Jayne paused and looked back at her sister. "The worst thing we can do is stop," she said urgently.

Lynn nodded. The two quickened their pace. The rustling was still coming at them, and now it was accompanied by a loud, inhuman roar. "That's definitely not an animal," Lynn murmured rather frantically.

Jayne nodded her agreement. The two of them held their flare guns ready to fire and circled the area around them, looking for what they assumed was the wendigo.

That's when it happened. Suddenly, moving lightening fast, something flew down out of one of the trees over their heads, growling and shrieking. Lynn let out a piercing scream as it came down on top of her. Jayne swiveled around towards her sister, and shot off the flare gun – only to hit nothing but air.

The eerie growl came again, and sudden pain ripped through Jayne's abdomen, sending her flying to the ground. Her gun slipped from her hand. Clutching her stomach, Jayne looked all around her in panic – and saw nothing.

No wendigo. And no Lynn.

Her stepsister was gone.

"Damn it," Jayne spat, getting to her feet. She was horrified to hear tears creeping into her voice. She swallowed, hard, gathering up her bag and her gun. "Lynn!" she shouted.

No response, not even from the wendigo.

"No," she whispered. Her voice grew louder. "No, no, no! Damn it! Lynn! _Lynn_!"

Still nothing. Tears burned at her eyes. Jayne ignored them. "Lynn! Lynn!"

Her sister didn't scream back. Jayne withdrew her hand from her abdomen, only to find blood all over it. "Shit," she whispered. "Damn it."

She shrugged out of her flannel shirt. Clad only in her white wife beater, Jayne pressed the shirt against the long, deep claw marks that had ripped through both her tank top and her flesh, hoping to stop the bleeding. She winced, looking around her again. "Lynn!" she shouted one last time.

Nothing. Jayne was alone.

* * *

Dean Winchester followed his little brother away from the campsite, rather irritated if truth be told. There Sam went again, acting crazy.

As if the day hadn't been trying enough. First, he had to come clean with Haley and tell her that he and Sam weren't rangers, they were brothers – and they were hunting for their father, just like she was hunting for her brother. Then there had been all those encounters with Roy, the guide, who had decided that he didn't much care for the Winchesters. Finally, there had been the destroyed campsite, and the fake out scream for help, followed by the vanishing packs.

"Let me see Dad's journal," Sam demanded.

Dean was two seconds away from telling Sam where he could stick that journal, but he refrained. He handed over the notebook. Sam opened it quickly, and flipped through the pages until finally stopping on one and handing the notebook back to Dean.

"All right," he said. "Check that out."

Dean stared incredulously at the page before him. "Oh come on," he half laughed. "Wendigos are in the Minnesota woods, or Northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far West."

"Think about it, Dean," Sam replied. "The calls. The way it can mimic a human voice."

Think about it Dean did. "Great," he said, holding up his gun. "Then this is useless."

Sam shoved the notebook back at his brother. "We've got to get these people to safety," he announced.

Before either brother could act on that, they heard a loud piercing scream from deep within the woods. The scream was distinctly feminine, and only came once before stopping abruptly.

Both brothers froze, turning towards the noise. "What the hell does that thing want now?" Dean exclaimed.

Sam shook his head. "I don't think that was the wendigo."

The two of them exchanged looks. Then, suddenly, they were joined by Haley, Ben, and Roy. "What the hell was that?" Haley demanded.

Dean looked into her big blue eyes. "We don't know," he replied, trying to be reassuring. "But we're about to find out."

"Everyone sticks together," Sam ordered.

Roy snorted, but at the pleading look Haley gave him decided not to argue. The five of them rushed through the woods in the direction the scream had come from. After a few minutes, Dean heard a rustling sound, and held out his hand, motioning everyone to stop.

They did. Dean stared into the bushes five feet to their left. Motioning for silence, he moved towards the bushes, holding his gun at the ready.

A twig cracked. Suddenly, the five of them were staring down the barrel of a gun. Dean raised his own just as suddenly, holding the newcomer off.

She was a rather tall young woman with long, white-blond hair pulled off to the side in a simple elastic. Her clothes were torn and she was covered in dirt. She stared at the five of them with hard eyes, looking every bit as tough as nails. But her chest was heaving heavily up and down, as if she'd just been running very fast… or she'd been terrified.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded.

The girl snorted. "Who the hell am I?" she retorted. "Who the fuck are you people?"

"Is that a flare gun?" Sam asked suddenly.

The girl looked down at the gun in her hands. "Yeah, well," she shrugged, lowering the gun. Dean did the same. "Sorry. Thought you were… thought you were something else."

"You wandering around out here alone and all you brought to protect yourself was a flare gun?" Roy asked, obviously unimpressed. "Don't you know these woods are full of grizzlies and cougars?"

She stared at Roy. A rather unpleasant smile crossed her face. "Excuse me," she returned. "But I guess I figured that if I really needed to kill a bear, lighting it on fire would probably do the trick. And, on the off chance it doesn't, well, that's why I brought this."

Saying that, she withdrew another gun from her belt and leveled it at the guide. Immediately, Roy pointed his rifle back at her.

Smirking, she lowered her pistol and tucked it back in her jeans. "Calm down," she said. "I'm not going to shoot anyone."

"Oh my god," Haley exclaimed suddenly, rushing over to the stranger's side. "You're bleeding!"

The other young woman stared at the curly haired brunette in surprise. "Oh, uh… yeah," she murmured. "It's… it's nothing. Just a scratch."

"Just a scratch?" Roy asked incredulously. Now that Haley had pointed her wound out, everyone was crowding around her and checking out the slash marks on her stomach. "Girl, you look like you got attacked by a grizzly!"

She stared at Roy. Apparently after the first comment he'd made, she'd decided she didn't care for him much. "Yeah, sure," she returned with a rather condescending air. "Grizzly."

"Here, let us help you," Haley said, trying to take the flannel shirt the girl was holding against her wound. "I'm Haley Collins. This is my brother, Ben, and our guide, Roy."

The girl studied her. Dean and Sam exchanged looks. She appeared to be gauging whether or not to trust them.

She must have decided she could, because she said, "I'm Jayne Gibson."

"Dean Winchester," Dean announced. "This is my brother, Sam."

"Do you have bandages in that bag?" Haley asked. "All our stuff seems to have disappeared."

Jayne stared at Haley, looking both surprised at the girl's genuine concern for her, and confused as to why she was trying to help her. Suddenly, she looked up at all five of them, frowning. "What are you people doing out here, anyway?" she asked. "You shouldn't be out here. It's not safe."

Roy chuckled. "Don't you worry about us," he returned. "There's nothing in these woods I can't handle."

"I somehow doubt that," Jayne retorted.

"Hey there, Jayne," Dean announced suddenly. "You know, I agree with you. It's not safe out here. So maybe you ought to stick with us, huh? Six people are a lot less vulnerable than one."

Jayne didn't look impressed by his logic. "Maybe," she said. "But seriously, you people don't know what you just stepped into. This here is _real_ dangerous territory. You better be getting out of here."

"And leave you?" Haley asked incredulously. "You're really hurt! We can't just _leave_ you!"

"I'll be fine," Jayne said shortly.

"No, you won't," Sam returned fiercely. Dean winced at his brother's tone. Crazy, angry Sam was back full force. "If you think for one moment that you know better than us what's in these woods, then you are dead wrong."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jayne retorted. "I already heard it from your guide over here. This place is full of grizzlies… cougars… really big deer… I get the picture, all right? I think I got it under control."

Sam gave a short, bitter laugh. "Like hell you do," he snapped. "There's something much worse than that out here. Trust me, if you had any idea what was really out here, you'd be begging for our company. It's a damn near perfect hunter. And if you don't come with us _right now_, it's going to hunt your stupid, sorry ass down and make you wish for that grizzly bear to come back."

Jayne stared at him for a moment. She seemed to be contemplating something. Finally, she shrugged, apparently dismissing whatever thought had been forming in her head. "Whatever," she said, turning away from them. "I don't have time for this. If you people want to stay out here and get yourselves killed, fine. I've got to find my stepsister."

At the mention of her stepsister, both Dean and Haley's interest peaked. She started to walk away, but Sam grabbed her arm as she passed him, and yanked her back. He didn't seem quite so interested in the lost stepsister. "Don't be stupid," he half snarled. "You don't have the slightest chance out there by yourself."

Jayne scoffed. "Don't you try to tell me what I can do and what I can't do. You have no idea what I've seen."

"Oh yeah?" Sam nearly shouted. "You ever hunt a wen…"

"All right, that's enough!" Dean exclaimed, coming in between them. The two continued to glare at one another over Dean's head. "Sam, what the hell's the matter with you?"

Sam said nothing. He turned away from both Dean and Jayne and started pacing angrily.

Dean turned to Jayne. "All right, look," he said. "I know you're worried about your stepsister. But whatever happened to her, we can help you get her back. No matter what you know or what you can do, the fact of the matter is that _no one_ should be out here alone. So will you come with us or not?"

Jayne didn't answer right away. She was eyeing Sam with a very strange look on her face. Then she looked over at Dean and eyed him for a moment, still wearing that same expression. "All right," she said finally. "I'll come with you."

"Good," Dean replied. "Everyone, let's head back to camp."

Hayley and Ben began walking off in the direction they had come from, Roy following them rather protectively. Sam and Dean didn't leave right away, and neither did Jayne. The three of them stared at one another for a moment.

"Wendigo," Jayne said suddenly. They stared at her in surprise. "That's what you were going to say, right? Wendigo?"

The two boys just kept staring at her, at a loss for words. Jayne didn't wait for them to reply. She brushed past them and started following the other three.

Sam and Dean exchanged shocked looks. Then they raced after Jayne. "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute," Dean exclaimed, catching up to her. "What's this now? You, uh… you said something about a… a… what'd you call it again?"

Jayne stopped and turned on them. "All right," she announced. "As long as the civilians are out of earshot? We don't have time for this, so let's cut the bull. I know what's out here, you know what's out here – all three of us know what's out here. We're facing off with a wendigo."

The two brothers were momentarily silent. "Ok," Dean said, looking rather impressed. "You're right. My brother and I are looking for a wendigo."

Jayne nodded. "So were my stepsister and I," she replied. "But…"

"It carried her off, didn't it?" Sam asked. He was no longer acting crazy and pissed off, much to Dean's relief. Instead, he had regained his usual lovable puppy-dog charm. "That's what gave you those slashes."

She looked down at her stomach. It was still bleeding pretty heavily. "Yeah," she murmured, attempting a rueful smile. "Guess this means no more bikinis for me, huh?"

Dean smirked at her. Sam didn't smile at the lame joke attempt. Instead, he carried on in his usual earnest manner. "What's your stepsister's name?"

Jayne met his eyes. "Lynn Juarez."

He nodded. "I'm sorry about…"

"Yeah," Jayne interrupted. "Me too."

Sam smiled at her and walked up ahead of her and Dean. Jayne fell into step alongside the elder Winchester. "So, you're a hunter, huh?" he asked. She nodded. "Well, Jayne, I'll tell you what. I never expected to meet up with another hunter out here."

"Yeah," she replied. "Join the club."

* * *

Back at the campsite, the shit was hitting the fan.

"Look," Sam announced. "I think the sensible thing to do is for Roy to take Haley and Ben out of here while we…"

"Not a chance in Hell!" Haley snapped. She was trying to patch up Jayne as best as she could, given their lack of supplies. "I'm not going anywhere!"

"Look, not to be ungrateful for the patch job," Jayne spoke from where she was half lying on the ground. "But I've got to agree with Sam. It would be a lot safer for everybody…"

"No!" Haley exclaimed. "No, I'm not leaving! There's a chance that Tommy may still be alive out there! And I am not leaving without my brother!"

A strange look appeared on Jayne's face. Her clear gray eyes met Haley's angry blue ones. "Your brother's missing?" she asked.

Haley nodded.

"Never mind," she announced. "I say let the girl stay."

Sam looked over at Jayne furiously. Before he could say anything, Dean intervened. "Look," he announced. "No one is going anywhere. We're going to stop this thing together."

"What is this _thing_ you all keep going on about?" Haley demanded.

"Dean, this is a bad idea," Sam said.

"It's getting late," Dean went on, ignoring them both. "This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves."

Haley stared at Dean. Her expression was both determined and afraid.

"How?"

* * *


	3. Finding Lynn and Tommy

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

* * *

Chapter 3: Finding Lynn and Tommy

Jayne Gibson had ended up in some pretty strange situations throughout the course of her life, but this one was weird even for her. There she was, in the middle of the Colorado wilderness, keeping company with five people she'd just happened to run into in the woods, and using a big stick to draw in the dirt. The last time she'd drawn in the dirt, she'd been nine years old and sitting in the local playground's sandbox.

But as strange as it all was, it was happening. Dean Winchester had pulled out a tattered leather bound journal and found diagrams of some Anasazi protection symbols. The two of them had then picked up a couple of sticks and started reproducing the symbols in the dirt around the campsite. Sam was sitting by himself and, from the looks of it, sulking. Jayne couldn't imagine what his problem was. If anyone should be sulking, it was her. She'd lost her brother _and_ her stepsister, and she was doing way more physical activity in the drawing of the protection circles than she should have been, considering her condition. The nasty slashes the wendigo had left in her stomach were some of the most painful things she'd ever felt in her life. Where Sam Winchester got off sulking and doing nothing when he was perfectly fine was beyond her. She should be the one sitting by herself, nursing her wounds, while Sam did all the work.

Roy, the guide, was leaning against a tree, cradling his rifle, and looking torn between amusement and disbelief. At the fire, Haley sat huddled with her younger brother, watching Jayne and Dean.

"One more time," Haley announced. "Those are…"

"Anasazi symbols," Dean replied, cutting her off. "It's for protection. The wendigo can't cross over them."

Roy laughed out loud at this. Clearly, he didn't buy into the whole 'supernatural world existing' thing.

"Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy," Dean said, finishing the symbol he was drawing. Jayne had already completed her side of camp and had retreated to the fire.

As she lay down nearby Haley and Ben, the girl gave her a small smile. Jayne made herself return the gesture. "How's the war wound?" Haley asked, trying to make light of the serious situation.

Jayne smirked at her. "Hurts like a bitch," she replied. "How are you adjusting to, uh… all this?"

"Not so good," Haley admitted.

Jayne gave a short laugh. "You're doing better than most people would."

"So, you're like Dean and his brother?" Haley wanted to know.

Jayne raised her eyebrow at the other young woman. "Um… how do you mean?"

"This wendigo stuff," Haley elaborated. "You do this? You know about this weird crap and how to kill it? And you actually go out and… try to kill it?"

She shrugged in reply. "Yeah," she murmured. "More or less."

Haley stared at her, as though she suspected an underlying secret. The last thing Jayne was going to do was confirm the other girl's suspicions, even if they were accurate. It was true – her and Haley were kind of in the same boat. Underneath the apathetic exterior, Jayne felt a kindred spirit in the other woman. But she had learned at a very young age that no matter how badly you want to trust the other person, you can't, not always. Not even most of the time.

"Thanks," she said suddenly. She figured that if she couldn't give Haley the explanation she was clearly searching for, she could at least give her the gratitude she deserved. "You didn't have to stitch me up."

"You're welcome," Haley returned. "But, yeah. I did."

And again, Jayne felt that sense of kinship with the other woman. Did she _have_ to save people from things like the wendigo? Not really, no. But she always felt like she did.

Meanwhile, Dean approached his younger brother. Sam was brooding again. Sam was always brooding. He'd been brooding since he was old enough not to cry. But this was different. This was scary. Sam was hurting, and Sam was angry. Dean knew it had a lot to do with Jessica, and nearly as much to do with their disappearing father. And he knew that they had to have it out, right here and right now, before they hunted the wendigo any further.

"So," he said, sitting down beside Sam. "You want to tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?"

"Dean, I'm…"

"No, you're not fine. You're like a powder keg, man. It's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?"

Sam was quiet for a moment. Then he said the words Dean knew were coming. "Dad's not here."

There was another pause. Then Sam continued, "I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. You're probably right." Then he said what he had been thinking since the beginning, but hadn't wanted to tell Sam. "To tell you the truth, I don't think Dad's ever been in Lost Creek."

Sam's response was the exact response Dean had expected. "Then let's get these people back to town, and let's hit the road. Let's go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?"

The petulant way Sam jerked the stick in his hand was almost humorous. All of a sudden, Dean saw his brat little brother sitting beside him. It was as if Sam was still five or six years old and throwing a temper tantrum over Lucky Charms, or something like that.

Dean knew his brother was hurting, but there were certain responsibilities that came with being a Winchester. Revenge did not always come first. People's lives did. He moved from his seat beside his brother to a seat in front of him, and pulled out the journal. "This is why," he replied. He had to make Sam understand. "This book. This is Dad's single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about, every evil thing, is in here. And he's passed it on to us."

The two brothers stared at one another for a moment. Dean braced himself. Here it was. The money shot. He was just going to lay it out for Sam, tell him exactly what he'd been thinking since he saw his father's notebook laying in front of him in the Jericho police station.

"I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things – the family business."

Sam didn't seem to take the news very well. "That makes no sense! Why doesn't he just call us, why doesn't he tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?"

Dean looked down at the ground. "I don't know," he replied. It was a lie. He did know, in a way. It was John Winchester, after all. And Dean knew his father better than anyone. His father was not the sort of man who could just pick up the phone and tell his sons that he wanted them to carry on the family legacy while he… while he did who the hell knows what.

"But the way I see it?" And this is where Dean put only the honest to god truth into his words. "Dad's given us a job to do. And I intend to do it."

"Dean, no," Sam said firmly. "I've got to find Dad. I've got to find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about."

"Ok, all right. Sam, we'll find them, I promise. Listen to me. You've got to prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while. And all that anger? You can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's going to kill you. You've got to have patience, man."

"How do you do it?" Dean's heart broke for his little brother. "How does Dad do it?"

Dean glanced over at the campfire. Haley, Ben… even Jayne. They had all lost someone. And they all needed him. He had to help them.

"Well, for one," he said. "Them. I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to Hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little bit more bearable."

Sam nodded, staring at the campfire too. Dean knew his words had hit home. But he couldn't leave it on such a serious note.

"And I'll tell you what else helps," he announced. "Killing as many evil sons-of-bitches as I possibly can." He smirked for his brother.

Sam smiled. And then, the moment was broken. A loud, masculine cry of "Help me!" filled the night air.

Dean and Sam leapt to their feet and made their way back to the campfire. Jayne stood up quickly as well, wincing as she went. Roy went immediately to his guns, and Haley and Ben stumbled to their feet, panicked. As the cries continued, Haley shoved her little brother behind her.

"It's trying to draw us out," Dean announced. "Stay cool, stay put."

"Inside the magic circle?" Roy asked wryly.

Dean shot him a nasty look over his shoulder. Jayne began rooting through her backpack. "Here," she called over to Dean and Sam.

They turned to her in surprise. She tossed them each a flare gun, and pulled one out herself. They nodded their thanks, and turned back around to watch the woods.

The cries petered out into a strange snarl. It didn't sound like anything any of them had heard before – expect for Jayne, that is. The creature moved so quickly, they could hear the air around it. "Ok," Roy said, aiming his gun at just about anything. "That's no grizzly."

Jayne swallowed as the noises continued. An eerie white form dashed through the brush. She let out a shaky breath. The last time, she hadn't been able to see it. Somehow, seeing it was worse.

Dean turned around suddenly at her rather loud exhale. "You all right?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm fine," she replied, acting as if he were stupid for asking the question.

He made a face that quite clearly implied, 'Forget you.' Then he returned to watching the woods.

The sounds increased. Ben was clearly scared out of his mind. "It's ok," Haley said to him, holding his hand. "You'll be all right, I promise."

Then, Roy started shooting. From the sound the wendigo made, one of the bullets got him. "I hit it!" Roy announced, racing off after the creature into the night.

"Roy! No!" Dean shouted.

"Oh, that idiot," Jayne spat.

"Don't move!" Dean ordered Haley and Ben. Then he, his brother, and Jayne raced off after Roy, holding their flare guns ready to fire.

"It's over here!" Roy shouted. From where, they had no idea. "It's in the tree!"

Then, there was silence. The three hunters stopped, huddled together. "Roy!" Dean shouted.

Dean and Sam looked all around them, aiming their flare guns into the brush. "Roy?" Sam called.

Nothing.

Jayne clutched at her side, breathing kind of heavy. That was a stupid move, she supposed, running off after the wendigo like that when she was injured. But she hadn't really given herself time to think about it. Chasing Roy and the Winchesters had been pure instinct.

"Well," Dean announced. "Roy's gone."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Definitely."

"We better go back to camp," Jayne said, suddenly nervous. Roy was gone, yes. But the wendigo? They had no way of knowing.

The two brothers looked at her in surprise. She suspected they'd either forgotten she was there, or hadn't noticed her following them. "Yeah," Sam murmured. "Yeah, we better."

Dean squinted at Jayne. "Is that new blood?"

Jayne looked down at her stomach. The elder Winchester was right. She was bleeding again. "Oh, crap," she muttered.

Dean took her by the arm and started hauling ass back to the campsite. Sam followed, watching the woods intently. "Haley!" Dean called as they approached camp.

"Dean?" Haley called back. They reached the clearing where she and Ben were standing, hiding behind a torch.

"Yeah," Dean said. The three of them crossed over the protection symbols. He gave Jayne a little shove towards Haley. She shot him a nasty look over her shoulder. "Work your magic," he smirked.

Haley frowned at Jayne. "Oh, my God, you reopened the wound!"

Jayne sighed. Honestly, she didn't see the big deal. So she was bleeding a little. She felt fine.

"Sit down," Haley ordered, digging around for the remainders of the bandages. Jayne complied and let Haley patch her up again.

"Where's Roy?" Ben asked.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks, as if debating to what to tell the kid. "Roy's uh…" Sam swallowed mid sentence. "Roy's… gone."

"It got him, didn't it," Ben said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "It got him."

"I don't think it'll come back tonight," Dean announced, walking around the camp perimeter. After inspecting the symbols to make sure they were still clear, he sat down beside the fire. "Everyone should just try to get some sleep."

"Yeah right," Haley said. "Like I'm going to sleep after that."

"I said try, didn't I?"

Haley smirked at him. He grinned back. Sam, sensing that his brother's initial attempt at a hook up was finally starting to succeed, rolled his eyes and flopped down beside Ben.

He closed his eyes and attempted to get some sleep. Sam doubted worrying over the wendigo was going to keep him up. He'd seen worse things than that lurking in the dark. One of them had killed his girlfriend.

No, if anything cost him sleep tonight, it was going to be his recurring nightmare about Jessica.

* * *

The next morning, after a practically sleepless night, the five remaining campers prepared to head out into the woods. Sam sat away from them all, leaning against a rotted tree stump and turning his father's notebook around in his hands. The words his brother had said the night before kept replaying themselves in his head.

Sam wasn't Dean. He had never been like his older brother. Dean rejoiced in the fact that their lives weren't normal. Sam hated it. The only thing he'd wanted to do his whole life was get away and live like other people.

But now, things were different. There was something pulling him back into the business. Something more than just revenge. What had happened to Jessica… it couldn't be coincidence.

He had to find that thing. He had to kill it.

But maybe he also had to save other people along the way.

As he sat there, contemplating the decision before him, Dean was making progress with Haley. He strode around the camp perimeter, studying the bloody scratch marks the wendigo had left on the trees. "I don't… these things aren't supposed to be real," Haley exclaimed.

Jayne looked up from her backpack. She was sympathetic to the girl's feelings, she supposed. The whole world was turning upside down on her. But Jayne had been so young when she'd first learned the truth about what was really out there, that she almost couldn't relate. Almost couldn't remember what it had been like not to know.

"Yeah, well," Dean replied. "Wish I could tell you different."

He did too, although his tone wasn't exactly empathetic. Haley, well… he liked Haley. She was tough. She was a lot like him. And he didn't really like seeing the horror on her face.

"How do we know it's not out there, watching us?"

"We don't," Dean returned. "But we're safe for now."

He gave her a short smile. A grin slowly spread across the girl's face. And Jayne suddenly had had enough of watching Dean Winchester making a conquest.

She turned away from them and looked over at Ben. In all the excitement, everyone had forgotten Ben. Even his older sister was too busy making gaga eyes at Dean to notice that Ben was really freaking out. Jayne came over and sat next to him. "You all right, kiddo?" she asked.

Ben looked over at her. "Yeah," he replied. "I'm fine."

Jayne nodded and sat quietly for a moment. "You know," she said. "In my line of work, I've met people twice your age – hell, even three times your age – who didn't take this sort of thing anywhere near as well as you're taking it. You're a tough one, kid."

Ben looked at her again. She swore she detected a very small smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jayne returned. She wasn't even lying. "You're really holding it together over here. I'm impressed."

The smile grew slightly, and he ducked his head. "You know," she went on. "It _is_ ok to not be all right, though. This isn't exactly a picnic out here. You know, unless you're a wendigo."

Ben let slip one single chuckle. Jayne was surprised, mostly because she'd thought her joke was pretty lame. "I'll be fine," he said again. "I just have to find Tommy."

She gave him a smile. "Trust me, kid. I know exactly how you feel."

"Ok," Sam announced. Everyone looked up in surprise as the younger Winchester reappeared in the camp. "We've got half a chance in the daylight. And I, for one, want to kill this evil son of a bitch."

Dean looked up at his brother, mildly surprised. Then he grinned. Sam was back. "Well, hell, you know I'm in."

And then suddenly, they were all business. Sam whipped out the notebook and started schooling Haley and Ben on the wendigo. Dean joined in. Jayne supposed she could have tossed her own two cents in as well, but decided against it. She kept her seat on the ground as the rest of them began running around. At the moment, Jayne didn't really feel like a part of the group.

"Wendigo is a Cree Indian word. It means 'evil that devours,'" Sam said.

"They're hundreds of years old," Dean added. "Each one used to be a man. Sometimes an Indian, or other times a frontiersman, or a miner, or a hunter."

"How does a man turn into one of those things?" Haley asked.

"Well it's always the same," Dean replied. "During some harsh winter, a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help, and becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe, or camp."

"Like the Donner party," Ben put in, rather grimly.

"Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person special abilities: speed, strength, immortality…" Sam announced.

"And if you eat enough of it," Dean took up where his brother had left off. "Over the years, you become this less than human thing. You're always hungry."

"So if that's true," Haley said. "How can Tommy still be alive?"

Dean and Sam exchanged looks. Jayne looked up. She knew what was coming next.

"You're not going to like it," Dean replied.

"Tell me," Haley returned without hesitation.

"More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time. When it's awake, it keeps its victims alive, it, uh – stores them, so it can feed whenever it wants."

Both Haley and Ben looked upset at the idea. "If your brother's alive," Dean continued. "It's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. We got to track it back there."

"And then how do we stop it?"

"Well," Dean half laughed. "Guns are useless. So are knives. Basically, we've got to torch this sucker."

He looked all too thrilled about the prospect. Haley smirked at him. Jayne, deciding the Winchesters' spiel on wendigo history was through, stood up and unzipped her backpack. "I've got four flare guns in here," she announced.

The rest of them looked over at her in surprise. She straightened, pulling the guns out of her bag. "One for Sam," she tossed him a flare. "One for Dean," she tossed him a flare as well. "And one for you two." She tossed Haley and Ben the second to last flare gun. Haley caught it. "Stick close to one another," she ordered them.

Then she pulled out the last flare gun tucked into her jeans. She met the eyes of the other four members of her party. "All right," she said. "We ready?"

Dean and Sam nodded. "Let's light this mother up," Dean grinned.

* * *

The five of them began making their way through the woods, clutching their flare guns. Dean was in the lead, Haley and Ben close behind. Jayne took up the rear, alongside Sam. She could tell he was staring at the claw marks on the trees with nervousness. Maybe he was thinking what she was thinking.

"I don't like the looks of this," she announced in a low voice, making sure only Sam could hear her.

Sam glanced over at her. "Yeah?" he asked. "Why not?"

Jayne met his dark green eyes. "Before it took Lynn," she replied. "The two of us were on its trail. There was no blood, barely any scratch marks. We were following the trees. The ones that looked damaged, or had broken limbs."

She swallowed. "Then, the trail went cold. And we heard screaming. We went to check it out and half an hour later… well, Lynn was gone."

Sam frowned at her. "What are you saying? That this is some sort of trap?"

Jayne shrugged. "Isn't that what you're thinking?"

The expression on Sam's face gave him away. "You think we should try to find another way?" he asked, stopping.

Jayne stopped too and looked him in the eye again. "I think that would be ideal," she returned. "But I don't think there is another way."

Sam nodded. The two began their trek again. "We'll just have to be _really_ careful," Sam announced.

Jayne nodded her agreement. "Extremely."

They pressed on through the woods. Soon, Sam, who had taken up the lead at some point, came to a stop. He glanced over at Jayne. Immediately, she looked up at the trees around them.

The bloody claw marks surrounded them. The trail went no further. They had walked right into the wendigo's trap.

"Dean," Sam said.

Dean walked over to his brother. "What is it?"

Sam gestured up into the trees. Dean took a look too. Suddenly, it became clear to him what their predicament was.

"You know," Sam said. "I was thinking. Those claw prints were so clear and distinct, they were almost too easy to follow."

Jayne glanced over at an obviously terrified Ben and Haley. She pulled her flare gun from the waist of her jeans. Glancing around her nervously, she half expected to see the wendigo pop out at any moment.

And it did. The creature's whining snarl filled the air around them. The trees began rustling, and Jayne swore she saw it rush from one bush to another, so fast it was a white blur.

That's when Haley screamed.

Jayne turned around, her flare gun ready to shoot. Roy's body fell from one of the trees and nearly took Haley out. The girl barely managed to dodge the falling missile. Both Jayne and Sam rushed over to her side and tried to help her back to her feet. "Are you all right?" Sam demanded.

Visibly shaken, Haley nodded, gasping for breath. Dean knelt down beside Roy. "Neck's broken," he announced.

The wendigo snarled. "Ok, run! Run, run, let's go!" Dean exclaimed.

All of them tore through the woods, racing away from the spot where the wendigo had laid its trap for them. Haley and Dean tore off ahead of the group, and Jayne took up the rear. She was determined to keep her eyes on Ben, who had fallen far behind. There was something about Ben that Jayne felt close to – she supposed he reminded her of Stephen.

Ben tripped and stumbled, falling to the ground. Jayne stopped, helping him to his feet. "Are you all right?" she demanded.

He nodded. Suddenly, Sam was in front of them. "Everyone ok?" he asked frantically, looking around for signs of their pursuer.

"Yeah," Jayne replied, giving Ben a gentle push. "Keep going!"

They started running again in the direction that Haley and Dean had disappeared in. Then, they heard Haley scream.

They rushed in the direction her scream had come from. "Haley!" Ben shouted.

Jayne stopped, finding one of her flare guns. She stooped to pick it up. Glancing up at the other two, she saw Sam picking up a second flare. Their eyes met.

"Dean!" Sam shouted into the woods.

Jayne sighed heavily. And then there were three.

* * *

"If it keeps its victims alive, then why did it kill Roy?" Ben asked.

He was walking alongside Jayne. The three of them were wandering through the woods rather aimlessly if truth be told, trying to find signs of Dean and Haley.

"Honestly?" Sam said from where he was walking ahead of them. "I think because Roy shot at it. He pissed it off."

Sam wandered off away from Ben and Jayne, looking around futilely. Suddenly, Ben knelt on the ground. Jayne looked over at him, startled. "What?" she asked quietly, bending down beside him.

Ben grinned, holding up a blue M&M. Jayne remembered seeing Dean with a bag of those the night before.

"Well, I'll be damned," she murmured.

"They went this way!" An excited Ben called over to Sam.

Sam joined the other two. One look at the blue M&M was all it took to bring a smile to his face. "That's better than breadcrumbs," he said.

The three of them began following a trail of M&Ms. After awhile, they came to what looked like the entrance to an old mine.

Jayne watched Sam walk up to the entrance and stare at the 'Warning! Danger! Do Not Enter! Extremely Toxic Material!' sign next to it. He glanced back over at Jayne and Ben, shrugging. Then he walked inside.

Ben followed him. As Jayne approached the entranceway, she looked up at the huge, ominous stone sign above the mine reading, 'Keep Out, No Admittance.'

Then, ignoring all the warnings, she followed Sam and Ben into the mine. Suddenly, she felt hopeful. Maybe Stephen was still missing, but at least she was about to find Lynn.

Almost immediately, they heard a snarl. Sam grabbed Ben by the hand and yanked him over behind a corner. Jayne followed. The three of them pressed themselves into the mine wall. Peering around the corner, they saw the wendigo walk by.

It was tall, gangly, and gray. Jayne couldn't make out its features, but she knew it was ugly. Instinctively, she grabbed a hold of Ben's hand and gave a reassuring squeeze.

The boy had been about to cry out, but fell silent at her touch. He looked over at her. She could see horror in his eyes.

Jayne mustered up a smile for him. Then she held up her flare gun and winked. "Don't worry," she whispered. "He comes near us again, and he's toast. Literally."

Ben managed a weak smile at the even weaker joke. Jayne didn't mind that he thought her jokes were lame – she _knew _her jokes were lame. But at least they kept his mind off the fear.

When they were younger, she used to do the same for Stephen.

The wendigo gone, Sam motioned for Jayne and Ben to follow him. They continued their trek through the old, dark mine.

After a while, Sam and Ben stepped onto some old wooden planks that immediately began creaking under their weight. Jayne, still at the rear, took a step back. "I'd move if I were you," she whispered.

That's when the planks gave way, and the two of them went tumbling into the darkness below.

Jayne knelt at the opening. "Sam? Ben?" she hissed into the hole. "Are you all right?"

"Oh my God," she heard Ben say.

"Jayne!" Sam called up to her. "They're here! They're down here!"

Jayne didn't waste another moment. Immediately, she jumped into the hole.

When she landed on her ass at the feet of Sam Winchester, his response was to gawk at her. "What the hell was that?"

"Oh, yeah," Jayne retorted. "I'm going to stay up there."

"Haley!" Ben exclaimed. He had raced over to his older sister, who was hanging from the ceiling, unconscious. Beside her was Dean.

Sam rushed to Ben's side. "Dean!" he called. He began trying to wake up his brother. "Dean!"

"Haley! Haley, wake up! Come on!"

Dean woke up suddenly, blinking and clearing his throat. He sounded like he was in pain. "Are you ok?" Sam demanded.

"Yeah," Dean choked out.

Jayne slowly stood up, glancing around the mine. In the corner, farther away from Dean and Haley, were two more people hanging from the ceiling.

One of them was Lynn.

Not giving a damn about the other person, Jayne rushed forward, headed straight for her stepsister. "Lynn!" she exclaimed as quietly as she could. She began tapping the other girl's face. "Lynn! Wake up, damn it!"

Lynn blinked into consciousness. Jayne's smile was uncontainable. "Lynn? Are you all right?"

Lynn stared at her. "Jayne?"

Jayne pulled dug a knife out of her backpack and cut her sister down. Lynn nearly collapsed to the ground, but Jayne caught her around the waist. Slowly, she lowered her stepsister to the floor. "You're all right," she whispered. "You're all right."

Lynn blinked at her. Jayne took in her dirt streaked face, the blood, and the bruises and scratches all over her. "You're a mess," she announced.

Her stepsister's only response was to gape at Jayne's wife beater. "Why is there blood all over you?"

Jayne laughed. She was so happy to see Lynn, she could cry. However, she managed to control herself. "It's nothing," she said. Then she stared at Lynn for a moment. "Damn it, Lynn, don't you ever fucking scare me like that _ever_ again! Do you hear me?"

A smile crept over Lynn's face. "Don't fight it, Jayne."

"What?"

"I said, don't fight it," she smirked. "Go on, you know you want to. Give me a hug."

Jayne glowered at her stepsister. Then she gave her a hug.

Lynn laughed. As her stepsister pulled away, she frowned over Jayne's shoulder. "Who the hell are all these people?" she asked.

Jayne looked around her. Behind her, Haley and Ben were tending to the other person she'd found hanging from the ceiling. From the way they were all over him, she'd judge him to be Tommy, their missing older brother. "That is the Collins family," she announced. Then she saw Dean and Sam staring at her and Lynn. "And that is Dean and Sam Winchester."

Lynn gave them a tiny wave. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," Sam replied, smiling slightly. Dean gave her a nod, obviously too winded to say anything.

"Where did they all come from?" Lynn asked her stepsister.

Jayne shrugged. "I met them in the woods," she replied. "They were hunting the wendigo. Well, the Winchesters were."

Lynn began to struggle to her feet. Jayne helped her up. She frowned at the Winchesters. "You're hunters?" she asked.

They nodded. Lynn raised an eyebrow at her sister. "You just _happened_ to meet up with a couple of hunters in the woods?"

Jayne shrugged. "Yeah. It's a tiny fucking world, isn't it?"

Lynn smirked. "Miniscule."

"You guys still got all the flare guns?" Dean asked his brother.

"Yeah," Sam replied.

"Great," Dean said, getting up. Sam tried to help him, but he shrugged him away. "I say we kill this sucker."

* * *

The seven of them made slow progress through the mines. Haley and Ben were supporting their brother, and Lynn was leaning heavily on Jayne. Dean seemed to have recovered and was leading the way along with his brother. The two of them were clutching their flare guns, ready to fire. Jayne's flare was tucked into her jeans again. She had her hands full with Lynn.

A snarl echoed throughout the mines. All of them froze. Sam and Dean aimed their flare guns in the direction the noise had come from.

"Sounds like somebody's home for supper," Dean announced.

"We'll never outrun it," Haley exclaimed.

Dean looked back at her. His eyes traveled over Haley, then her brothers, and then Jayne and Lynn. Finally, his eyes met Sam's. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "I think so."

Dean looked over at Haley. "All right, listen to me," he said. "Stay with Sam, he's going to get you out of here."

"What are you going to do?" Haley asked.

Dean didn't reply. He just winked.

"Chow time, you freaky bastard!" he shouted, racing up ahead of them and around a corner. "Yeah, that's right! I taste good!"

Lynn looked over at Sam. "You're brother's really brave," she murmured.

"Hey! Hey, you want some white meat, bitch?"

"Yeah," Jayne said. "Or really stupid."

"Probably both," Sam returned. "Come on."

The six of them began racing off in the opposite direction. It wasn't long before they discovered that Dean's ruse wasn't working. They heard a snarl. The wendigo was coming towards them.

Sam nodded towards the light that was streaming in around a corner. "Go," he ordered the rest of them. "Get Lynn and Tommy out of here."

"Sam, no!" Haley protested.

"Go!" he shouted.

"Come on, Haley," Ben murmured. The two of them supported Tommy towards the exit.

Jayne and Lynn stared at Sam. "Go," he said again, quieter. "Watch out for them."

They nodded, and followed Haley and her brothers.

Lynn was moving faster now, recovering from her stay at the wendigo's hiding place. Jayne kept a steadying hand on her stepsister's shoulder, drawing her flare gun with the other. Ahead of them, Haley and Ben were struggling to get Tommy out of the mine.

"Jayne," Lynn said breathlessly. "I don't know if they're going to make it."

"Oh, they'll make it," Jayne replied. It sounded like a threat.

They heard Sam's flare gun go off somewhere behind them. Haley froze. "Sam!" she called.

Sam came racing up behind them, his gun gone. "Go!" he shouted. "Hurry!"

They all started running. The wendigo was coming up fast behind them. Sam herded them all around a corner – and they hit a dead end.

Sam threw himself in front of the other five. Jayne helped Lynn lean against the rocky wall, and then ducked out from behind Sam's arm, aiming her flare gun in the direction the raspy breathing was coming from.

"Jayne!" Lynn exclaimed.

The wendigo came around the corner, advancing on the six people in front of it. Jayne stood still, waiting for it to come completely into view.

Hideously deformed, gray, and emaciated, the wendigo flew around the corner, growling and hissing at them all. As it let out a loud roar, Jayne fired the flare gun.

To the surprise of everyone, Jayne included, the sound of her gun firing rang out alongside the sound of a second gun. Two flares hit the wendigo – one from the front, the other from the back.

The flares burned slowly at first, and then quickly engulfed the wendigo in flame. Screeching in pain, the wendigo crumpled to the floor of the mine, its body smoking and withering up. Soon, it was nothing but a pile of ashes on the ground before them.

Dean Winchester stood on the other side of the ashes, holding the second flare gun. "Nice shot," he grinned at Jayne.

She smirked back at him. "Same to you."

* * *

The ranger station of Lost Creek, Colorado was teeming with ambulances and police cars. After receiving treatment for minor cuts, the paramedics released Jayne and Lynn from their care – although Jayne had a hell of a time convincing them the slash marks on her stomach didn't require a hospital visit.

The Collins family was getting into one of the ambulances. Before she left, Haley gave Dean a peck on the cheek.

"We should go say good-bye," Lynn announced, nodding at the Winchesters.

Jayne sighed. "Yeah, ok. If you say so."

The two of them approached the Winchester brothers, who were leaning on their black Chevy Impala. "Hey," Lynn said quietly. "How are you holding up?"

"We'll be fine," Dean smirked. "How about you two?"

"Same," Lynn replied. "Um… we just wanted to say thank you."

"Yeah," Jayne added. "Thanks." That one word said, she turned to leave.

"Uh, Jayne?" Lynn called after her. "Is that all you wanted to say?"

Jayne stopped. "Oh, right," she said. "Bye."

Then she turned again, and retreated to the battered gray truck parked on the side of the road. Lynn rolled her eyes and turned to the Winchesters. "Um, sorry," she said sheepishly. "We really are grateful, both us, especially Jayne. She just, uh… doesn't express herself very well. I blame our picky first grade art teacher. She was stifling."

Sam laughed quietly. Dean smirked. "So, thank you," Lynn said. "Without your guys' help, Jayne and I probably wouldn't have gotten out of there."

"You're welcome," Sam returned.

"Anytime," his brother added.

Lynn stood there awkwardly for a moment, as though she had something else she'd like to say, but wasn't sure if she should. Finally, she sighed, and pulled out a pen and a tiny notebook. "Jayne hates it when I do this, but… well, that's never stopped me before," she announced. Lynn ripped a sheet of paper from the notebook and wrote down a phone number. "This is my cell number," she said, holding the paper out to the two brothers.

Dean stared at the paper like he wasn't sure what sort of diseases were crawling on it. But Sam, although looking mildly confused, reached out and took the number.

"It's just in case you ever need anything," Lynn went on. "I usually do this when I meet other hunters. Give them a way to contact me and Jayne. If you ever need something – help with a hunt, information, anything – just give me a call."

She tucked the pen and pad back into her backpack. "Us hunters should keep in touch – at least, that's what I think," she continued. "I mean, in this business? Isolation's about as safe as suicide, you know what I'm saying?"

Dean didn't reply, but Sam met her eyes. He looked as if the words had hit home. A small smile crossed his face. Lynn smiled back. "Well, anyway. Like I said, you ever need anything, call me up. My cell's always on. Good luck, you two."

"Good luck," Sam replied earnestly.

Lynn walked away from the two brothers. They watched her as she crossed the road and clambered into the passenger seat of the old pick up truck. The truck emitted a loud rumbling sound as it started up, and then rattled off into the night.

Dean glanced over at Sam and smirked. "Well, well, Sammy. Someone got himself a phone number."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Dean. You know it wasn't like that."

"Still," Dean pressed. "You're the one sitting there with the phone number, not me."

Sam chuckled, and didn't reply. After a moment of silence, Dean announced, "Man, I hate camping."

"Me too," Sam agreed.

"Sam, you know we're going to find Dad, right?"

"Yeah. I know." Sam smirked. "But in the meantime? I'm driving."

Dean sat silently for a moment, fingering his keys. Finally, looking none too happy about it, he tossed the keys at his younger brother.

Sam caught them and climbed into the driver's seat. Dean slid in on the passenger's side. A grin crossed Sam's face as he started up the car.

The Impala roared out of the ranger station parking lot, and tore off into the darkness.

* * *


	4. Wisconsin's Vacation Spot

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to Nelle07 for the review!

* * *

Chapter 4: Wisconsin's Vacation Spot

"Finally, he stopped," Lynn announced. She was in the passenger seat of the gray Nissan pick up, staring at her laptop monitor like always. "He's in Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin."

"Lake Manitoc?" Jayne asked, roaring so fast down the country road they were traveling that she startled some cows.

"That's right," Lynn replied. She sighed. "Wonder what he's doing there?"

Jayne shrugged. "Another hunt, maybe?"

"Maybe."

They fell silent. Finally, after a few moments of nothing but the rumbling of the truck and the relentless screaming of Janis Joplin, Lynn spoke again. "Jayne, I'm not a freaking china doll, you know."

Jayne looked mildly guilty, but didn't let on that she understood the statement. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Let's stop pretending," Lynn said shortly. "Stephen wasn't on a hunt in Lost Creek, and you know it."

Jayne sighed heavily. "All right, fine," she replied. "Stephen was _not_ hunting the wendigo."

Once again, the only voice in the car belonged to Janis. "So," Lynn said finally. "I've had enough of this walking on eggshells crap. Let's have it out. What do you think is going on with Stephen?"

"I don't know," Jayne returned. Lynn sighed.

"You have to at least have an idea."

"Well, I don't."

"Jayne, come on. I think we both know why he's running. He's trying to escape something."

Jayne didn't reply. "You've got to know that's what he's doing," Lynn pressed. "Don't you remember the last time we saw him? Jayne, he was so scared!"

Her cry faltered. Jayne glanced at Lynn out of the corner of her eye. Her stepsister had her hand pressed to her mouth, and she was blinking. One tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek.

"All right," Jayne announced. "That's enough. We're not going to talk about this anymore."

"But Jayne…"

"No, Lynn! All we're doing is upsetting ourselves. We'll find out why he's running once we track him down. Until then, we've got to focus on finding him. That's the most important thing right now."

Lynn took a deep, steadying breath. She nodded and wiped her eyes. "All right," she agreed. "You're right. We have to find him. That's our first priority."

Jayne nodded too. The two of them once again lapsed into silence. Jayne pressed down hard on the gas, even though she was already going much too fast. "Lake Manitoc, here we come."

* * *

Lynn stared out the window at the beauty that was Lake Manitoc. There was no denying that the town was pretty. It was no wonder that their welcoming sign read, "Welcome to Lake Manitoc, WI, Wisconsin's vacation spot."

The little town was built all around the huge black lake, which was surrounded by tall fir trees.

"He still here?"

Surprised by her stepsister's voice, Lynn started out of her reverie and turned to Jayne. "Uh… yeah," she murmured, checking the laptop in front of her.

Jayne's eyes darted around from building to building as she turned down one of the town's many picturesque streets. "Any preference to which motel we stay in?" she asked.

Lynn joined her in staring out the windshield. "Um… Lakefront Motel looks nice."

Jayne nodded her agreement. "All right then."

Lynn returned to staring out the window. Jayne pulled into the motel's tiny parking lot and parked the truck. Lynn slid her laptop under her seat and then hopped down from cab.

She came around the front end of the truck and followed her stepsister towards the front door of the motel. However, Jayne suddenly stopped and stared.

Lynn frowned at her. "What?"

"Why is _that_ here?"

Her stepsister looked sort of angry. Maybe not angry exactly, but… surprised. And Jayne didn't handle surprises very well.

She was pointing at a car parked outside the motel door. Lynn stared at the vehicle as well, beginning to understand the problem.

"Well," she said slowly, attempting to soothe her stepsister. "I'm no expert on cars – that's more _your_ area – but I believe that's a black…"

"1967 Chevy Impala, that's what that is," Jayne interrupted her, finishing the sentence.

Lynn nodded and shrugged. "Well, you would know better than me."

"Doesn't that strike you as odd?" Jayne asked rather fiercely.

"Jayne, we hunt demons," Lynn retorted. "Nothing strikes me as odd."

"Really?" her stepsister shot back. "So you think that it's perfectly normal that we keep running into those two chuckleheads wherever we go?"

"I assume you mean the Winchester brothers," Lynn returned. "First of all Jayne, they are not chuckleheads."

"No? Do the words 'Hey, you want some white meat, bitch,' ring any bells?"

Lynn sighed. "Well, actually, I rather thought that was more brave than stupid…"

"You would."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Second of all," she went on, ignoring the snipe. "We have no way of knowing that that's actually their car…"

"Oh, please," Jayne huffed.

"Oh, come on, Jayne! There's got to be _lots_ of…" Lynn trailed off at the look her stepsister was giving her. "All right, maybe not _lots_, but there's got to be a good number of…" Her stepsister was still giving her that look. "Ok, fine. But there's got to be at least _one_ other black Impala driving around America. And third of all? We do _not_ keep running into them _everywhere_ we go! Colorado and Wisconsin? That's only twice. Big freaking deal!"

Jayne was still eyeing the Chevy distrustfully. Lynn sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "Come on," she said, giving Jayne's arm a tug. "Let's go get a room. We can ask about Stephen's car."

Obviously still not happy but resigned to the circumstances, Jayne followed her stepsister grumpily inside the motel. Lynn walked up to the desk with a bright smile for the receptionist. "Hi there," she grinned.

The receptionist mustered up a smile for them as well, although she looked extremely bored. "Hello," she replied. "Need a room?"

"Yep," Lynn said, still smiling.

"Two doubles or a king?"

"Two doubles."

The woman started typing away at her computer. "Cash or Credit?"

"Credit," Lynn replied, handing her a card.

The woman did her thing and handed them their room keys. "Say," Jayne said suddenly. "You wouldn't have happened to see a 1970 bright orange Plymouth Superbird around here?"

The woman blinked at her, clueless. "I'm sorry, I don't have the faintest idea what that is."

"A Superbird," Jayne repeated. The woman continued to stare at her like she'd grown another head. "You know, it's a muscle car? A classic?" The woman still didn't seem to understand. Jayne pointed out the window. "It's kind of like that Impala out there, but with a much longer front end, two doors, and a huge, tall ass wing out the back."

The woman shrugged. "No, sorry. I haven't seen anything like that."

Jayne forced herself to smile. "Well, all right. Thanks anyway."

The two women retreated back to their truck, retrieved their bags, and then walked to their motel room. "Can you believe that woman had no idea what a Superbird was?" Jayne complained.

Lynn rolled her eyes. Why Jayne thought that everyone around her should know something about cars was beyond her. "Well, I don't know what to tell you, Jayne," she replied. "I guess not everyone's a loser like you." She smirked at her stepsister.

"I'm not a loser! You're the loser… loser."

As they approached the door, the one next to it opened up, and out stepped none other than Dean and Sam Winchester.

Both Lynn and Jayne stopped and stared at them. The two brothers stared as well. "Lynn? Jayne?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Lynn replied, smiling slightly. "Uh… hi."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Dean practically demanded.

"Um…" Lynn trailed off. "We're on a hunt."

"A hunt?"

"That's right," Jayne said, joining the conversation. "We're on a hunt."

"Oh, so you're checking out the drownings on Lake Manitoc?" Dean pressed.

"Exactly," Jayne replied without a missing beat.

Dean nodded. "I see. So you heard about the death of Sophie Carlton?"

"Yep," Jayne said.

"And that the dam's all messed up to hell? They're draining the lake?"

"Yep," Jayne said again.

"And the drowning of Chris Barr?"

"Uh-huh."

"And the eyewitness accounts of the dark, strange shape in the water?"

Jayne nodded. "Yep. Got all that."

"Well, that's funny," Dean smirked. "Seeing as that last part I just pulled out of my ass."

Jayne stared at him. He continued to smirk. Sam tried to hide a smile. Lynn pinched the bridge of her nose, looking embarrassed. Finally, Jayne smirked back at him.

"Yeah, well, doesn't surprise me," she replied. "I rather think you pull most things out of your ass."

Sam gave a short laugh. Jayne turned and stuck her key in her door, unlocking it and stepping inside her motel room. "Lynn?" she asked.

"I'll be right there," she replied.

Jayne let the door close behind her.

"Well, we better get going," Dean announced. "Sam?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you in the car."

Dean disappeared in the direction of the parking lot. "Sorry," Lynn apologized to Sam. "Jayne's, uh… well, she's Jayne."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Sam replied. "Dean's, uh… well… Dean."

Lynn laughed. "So, uh… you guys are on a hunt?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "We're investigating some drownings that have happened out on the lake. None of the bodies were ever found."

Lynn nodded. "So what do you think it is? Some kind of creature?"

Sam shrugged. "We're not sure."

She nodded again. "Do you, uh… you need some help?"

"Thanks," Sam said. "But I think we've got it covered for now."

"Right," Lynn replied. "I get it. Good luck."

"Thanks," Sam returned. Then he headed off in the direction his brother had gone. Lynn watched him walk away, a strange feeling developing in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes traveled up and down his body as he walked. She swallowed, and forced herself to turn away. Why the hell was she checking out Sam Winchester?

Lynn opened the door to her motel room and stepped inside. She found Jayne standing over one of the beds, a phone book open on the mattress, and her phone in her hand. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Calling local garages," Jayne replied. "Checking to see if Stephen's car's been serviced at any of them."

Lynn nodded, tossing her bag on the other bed. "Hello, this is Phyllis Wheatley," she heard her stepsister say into the phone. Lynn rolled her eyes. "I'm with the county sheriff's department? We're investigating a stolen car, and we think the vehicle may have passed through your town. Do you have an orange 1970 Plymouth Superbird? No? Have you had one in recently? Yes, I'll wait… no again? Well, have you had any Superbirds? Maybe it's had a paint job… no? Not one Superbird? All right, thanks for checking."

Jayne hung up the phone and began searching the yellow pages again. "I'm going to go for a walk," Lynn announced before her stepsister could dial a second number. "Maybe look into this lake thing."

"You do that," Jayne replied. She immediately began dialing again.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Later," she said, leaving the motel room.

Jayne barely seemed to notice her leave. "Hello, I'm Christine McVie. I'm with the county sheriff's office. We're…."

Lynn closed the door, stifling the sound of her sister's voice. So what if Sam and Dean Winchester didn't want her help on this case? She'd just investigate on her own – even if she had to do it without Jayne.

* * *

Investigating without the assistance of Jayne or the Winchesters turned out to be harder than Lynn had originally surmised. Not because Lynn couldn't investigate on her own – in fact, when it came to research, she usually did the bulk of it. Jayne wasn't big on research unless it was out in the field. Lynn's stepsister _always_ had to be out in the field.

No, investigating on her own turned out to be harder than she thought it would be simply because of the two people she happened to run into on her way past the park.

Lynn stopped beside the fence circling the playground. Quickly approaching a pretty young woman seated on a bench, watching the kids, were Dean and Sam Winchester. Lynn froze, unsure how to proceed. Should she go in and find out what the Winchesters knew, and who that young woman was? Or should she just keep walking and do her own investigating? After all, Sam had made it pretty clear back at the motel that he and his brother weren't looking for any outside assistance.

Lynn's inquisitiveness and her friendly to the point of pushy nature won out. No matter what the Winchesters thought, the more hunters you had working a case, the quicker and safer it was solved. And she wasn't one to burn bridges. Keeping contact with other hunters could occasionally prove key to one's survival. Besides, no matter how much Lynn liked research, she didn't want to have to do any work that had already been done once. It wasted time – time she didn't always have, especially now that Stephen was missing.

She tried to step over the fence, but found it was a little too tall for her short legs, and had to hop instead. Then she made her way over to the Winchesters.

Dean was already making a beeline for a redheaded little boy coloring on another park bench. Lynn approached Sam and the young woman. "Tell your friend that this whole Jerry Maguire thing isn't going to work on me," the woman said.

"I don't think that's what this is about," Sam replied.

"Hey, Sam."

Sam started and turned around to see Lynn standing beside him. "Oh, um… hi, Lynn," he murmured. What the hell was she doing here? "I, uh… didn't expect to see you here."

"Yeah, same to you," she replied. She smiled at the young woman. "Hi. I'm Lynn Juarez."

"Andrea Barr," the woman introduced herself, shaking Lynn's outstretched hand. "Are you with the wildlife service too?"

Lynn glanced at Sam. "Um… yeah. Sure am."

"So, Andrea," Sam said, giving Lynn one last baffled look out of the corner of his eye. "We were looking into some of the other drownings that have happened out on the lake recently, and we pulled up something on Chris Barr. That was Lucas's father, right?"

Andrea looked down at the ground for a moment. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Chris was my husband. He… well, we never really knew what happened for sure. He just… drowned. Lucas… Lucas never said a thing about it."

"That must have been hard on him," Sam murmured sympathetically. Lynn kind of just stood there and listened to the conversation. She had no clue what they were talking about. "I mean, watching his dad…"

He trailed off. Andrea was nodding. Lynn had to hand it to her – at least she wasn't on the verge of tears. If she'd been telling the story of her drowned husband to some strange guy in the park, she'd probably be bawling.

"Lucas hasn't said a word," she went on. "Not since… since his dad's accident."

"Yeah, we heard." Lynn looked up in surprise to see Dean standing behind her. She hadn't realized he'd come back. "Sorry."

Andrea met Dean's eyes. "What do the doctors say?" Sam asked.

"Oh, that's it's some kind of post-traumatic stress," Andrea sighed.

"That can't be easy," Sam said sympathetically. "For either of you."

"We moved in with my Dad," Andrea replied. "He helps out a lot. It's just… when I think about what Lucas went through. What he saw…"

"Kids are strong," Dean said suddenly. "You'd be surprised what they can deal with."

Lynn found that an odd thing to say. She couldn't deny the accuracy of the statement, however. She knew it to be the truth.

"You know," Andrea said. "He used to be full of such life. He was hard to keep up with, to tell you the truth. I just wish… hey, sweetie," she interrupted herself. Lynn looked up to see the redheaded boy standing between Dean and his mother.

To both Lynn's and his mother's surprise, Lucas handed a drawing on a piece of construction paper to Dean. Dean took the drawing and looked at it, stunned. "Thanks, Lucas," he said.

Lucas turned and walked back to his bench. Andrea looked at Dean in shock. "Wow," she said. "He must like you."

Dean shrugged and kind of half smiled. "Well, we better get going," Sam announced.

Andrea nodded and smiled. Then she walked off towards her son. Lynn couldn't believe that Dean, who she had had pegged as sort of the hard ass type, had managed to connect with a traumatized little boy. "So, uh…" she murmured. The two brothers stared at her. "What exactly is going on in this town?"

Dean and Sam exchanged looks. Then Sam decided to speak up. "Well, we think it's some kind of lake monster," he announced. "Something's been drowning people in the lake over the years, but especially recently. The thing seems to have picked up speed in recent months. One of the recent drownings was Andrea's husband. We were trying to see if we could get anything out of Lucas. So far, he's the only real eyewitness we might have."

Lynn nodded. "That poor little boy," she murmured.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Well, Sam? Let's go."

Dean walked away from Lynn and Sam, studying Lucas's drawing as he went. Lynn glanced over at Sam. "So… you guys still good? Don't need any help?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "We're fine. Thanks, though."

"Sure."

Sam followed his brother. Lynn sighed and retreated to the other side of the park. Something wouldn't let her leave. She sat down on a bench and watched Andrea and Lucas play with his crayons.

That poor little boy must have seen something out on that lake. And he was so scared that he wouldn't talk to anyone about it. All Lynn could think of was her little brother and how scared he had been before he'd disappeared. Where was Stephen? And what had _he_ seen?

* * *

Jayne approached the playground nearby the Lakefront Motel. As she'd suspected, Lynn was sitting on a park bench, watching the kids run around. Jayne couldn't help but roll her eyes. Somehow, her stepsister always managed to find the spots where the kids hung out. If she wasn't careful, one day she'd have a nervous parent calling the cops on her for voyeurism.

Jayne easily stepped over the low fence around the playground and walked up to her stepsister's bench. She had news for her. Not the news either of them had hoped to get, but news none the less.

She sat beside Lynn. "Hey, creeper," she announced. "What are you doing out here?"

"See that little boy over there?" Lynn asked, nodding towards a young redheaded child.

"Yeah," Jayne replied, glancing in the kid's direction. "Cute kid."

"He watched his father drown on the lake," Lynn went on. "Saw something kill him. And he hasn't said a word since."

Jayne looked down at her lap. "That's sad."

"I know," Lynn agreed. "I don't know what to think, Jayne. Whatever's on that lake…"

She trailed off and shook her head. "Any luck with the car?"

Jayne also shook her head. "Nope. Not a Superbird in the whole county."

Lynn sighed. "Anything… did you…?"

Jayne interrupted, knowing that Lynn wasn't going to be able to ask the question. "No one in any of the nearby hospitals matches Stephen's description. And he's not in the obits. But I did find something interesting in the obits while I was at it."

"What?"

"I found several drowning related deaths in the area," Jayne replied. "Most recently, there was Sophie Carlton – whose brother swears he saw something drag her down – and then there was Chris Barr, Lucas's father."

Lynn started in surprise. "You know the kid's name?"

Jayne nodded. "Yeah. There was a picture with the news story."

"You knew the story about that little kid over there the whole time and didn't say anything?" Lynn asked incredulously.

Jayne shrugged. "Yeah. I'm an asshole."

"Yes," Lynn returned. "Yes, you are."

"He's the only eyewitness so far," Jayne continued.

"Yeah, that's the Winchesters said," Lynn replied. "They were here a little while ago. Looks like the kid doesn't want to talk."

Jayne nodded. "Look, I've been thinking," she announced. "People don't just disappear. I don't care how big that lake is, eventually a dead body's going to float to the top. Even if some of the bodies don't, not _all_ of them are going to disappear forever. And if there was a creature on that lake, well… I'm sure there would be some kind of evidence. Sightings, tracks, that sort of thing."

"What are you getting at?"

"I think maybe we're dealing with something else," Jayne said. "And I want to go out to that lake and run an EMF on it."

Lynn looked surprised. "So you're ready to take up another hunt? Even with Stephen still missing?"

"Hey, I'm trying to find him," Jayne retorted. "I've called every conceivable place in the county that might be able to tell me something about him or his car. So far, nothing. Wherever Stephen is, he doesn't want to be found. So as long as we're poking around Lake Manitoc, we could at least save some lives."

Lynn smiled. "All right. Let's go out to the lake."

* * *

"Anything?"

Jayne glanced up at her stepsister, who was poking around the shoreline, looking for tracks. She was walking the shoreline as well, scanning the lake with her EMF detector. "Well," she said. "It's not exactly jumping, but I _am_ getting something on the scanner."

"Well, I haven't found a damn thing to support the lake monster theory," Lynn returned. "You know, maybe we'd get better readings out on the water."

Jayne raised an eyebrow at her stepsister. "Are you serious? You want to go out on a lake where countless people mysteriously drown and then are never seen again?"

"Well, do you have any better ideas?"

Lynn had her there. Jayne made a face. "No," she grumbled.

"Then let's do it."

"How?"

"We'll need a boat."

"Are you kidding me?" Jayne asked. "You want to steal a boat? I don't know, Lynn. I think maybe I've got enough crimes on the warrant for my arrest without adding 'boat thief' to the list."

Lynn scoffed. "You don't have a warrant out for your arrest."

"We don't know that!"

Lynn sighed, exasperated. "I'm not going to steal a boat. I'm going to rent one. Now quit your belly aching, and come on!"

A little over half an hour later, Lynn had successfully rented a canoe, and the two of them were rowing out towards the center of the lake.

"Anything?" Lynn asked, struggling with one of the oars. A fisherman on one of the docks was laughing his ass off at her.

Jayne, who had neglected her own oar in favor of her EMF detector, suddenly jumped so high, she nearly capsized the boat. The electronic device had abruptly started buzzing like crazy. "Jayne!" Lynn exclaimed. "What the hell?"

"Whoa!" Jayne nearly shouted. "It is _hot_ out here! Look at this!"

Lynn tossed her oar at the bottom of the boat and yanked the detector away from her stepsister. "Wow," she agreed. "That is a pretty high reading."

"I think we might have ourselves a spirit," Jayne announced.

"Awesome," Lynn replied. "Now we just have to figure out who, when, why, and where he's buried." She was silent for a moment. "Do you think we ought to clue in the Winchesters?"

Jayne snorted. "No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because in case you haven't noticed, Lynn," Jayne returned with great sarcasm. "The Winchesters do not want our help. And _I_ do not want to give them our help."

"Yeah, all right," Lynn replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm so telling them."

"Why did you even bother asking me if you were just going to completely disregard my opinion?"

Lynn shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes it's nice to let you think you have a say in what we do."

Jayne huffed, picking up her oar. "Whatever. Let's just get off this damn lake."

"I agree," Lynn said, picking up her own oar. She sighed, surveying both the oar and the water. "This ought to be fun."

* * *

Jayne leaned against the exterior wall of the Lakefront Motel, her arms crossed and a sour expression on her face. Her pushy stepsister was banging on the Winchesters' motel room door, looking determined.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of door banging, Dean Winchester opened the motel room door. "What?" he asked, clearly annoyed.

"We want to tell you something," Lynn announced.

Dean raised his eyebrow at her. Lynn pushed her way into the motel room, a woman with a mission. Dean watched her storm into his room, and then glanced over at Jayne. She shrugged at him. "Don't look at me," she said. "I told her not to bother."

Dean sighed. Jayne followed her stepsister inside the motel room. He closed the door behind her. "Where's Sam?" Lynn wanted to know.

"He went out," Dean replied shortly. "Why? You like him better or something?"

Lynn didn't bother to reply to the snarky question. "We have something to tell you," she repeated. "About your hunt. About the lake."

Dean took a seat at the table in the room. "All right," he said, still sounding annoyed, but at least attempting to be civil. "Shoot."

"We're absolutely positive that whatever's out on that lake is _not_ a monster."

Dean frowned at her. "Well, then what is it?"

"We're pretty sure it's an angry spirit," Lynn continued. "We went out to the lake today, and got an incredibly high EMF reading. That, coupled with the lack of physical evidence for a monster, has me thinking we're dealing with a spirit."

Dean looked mildly impressed. Before he could say anything else, the door opened and Sam burst into the room, saying, "So, I think it's safe to say we can rule out Nessie."

He froze, staring at the two women in the motel room. "Hey, Sam," Dean grinned at him rather ironically. "You were saying?"

Slowly, Sam shut the door, frowning at Lynn and Jayne. "Um… what are you two doing in here?"

"They popped by to tell me exactly what you just did," Dean answered for them. "So, we can rule out Nessie, huh? What do _you_ think it is?"

Sam sat down on one of the beds. "Well, I'm not sure," he said. "But I just drove by the Carlton house. There was an ambulance outside. Will Carlton is dead."

"He drowned?" Dean asked.

"Yep. In the sink."

Silence descended on the motel room. "Well," Dean murmured, looking over at Lynn. "Sounds like maybe you two hit the nail on the head."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"Jayne and I went out to the lake to get an EMF reading," Lynn explained. "We're pretty sure we're dealing with an angry spirit."

Sam thought about that for a moment. "Actually, yeah. That makes sense. I mean, whatever this thing is, it can control water, right? But…"

"All the water comes from the same source," Dean finished for him.

"Which explains why the number of drownings has increased in the past few months," Lynn put in. "I mean, you guys said they were draining the lake, right?"

"Right," Sam agreed. Everything seemed to be falling into place. "So, whatever this thing wants, it only has a few months left to get it. Soon, the lake will be dry."

"And if it can get through the pipes," Dean went on. "It can get to anyone. Almost anywhere. This is going to happen again, and soon."

"And we do know one other thing for sure," Sam added. "We know this does have something to do with Bill Carlton."

"Yeah, it took both his kids."

"And I've been asking around? Chris Barr, Lucas's father? He was Bill Carlton's godson."

"Let's go pay Mr. Carlton a visit," Dean said, standing up and grabbing his keys. Sam followed suit. Dean glanced over at Lynn and Jayne, who were sitting there, watching the brothers with looks that almost said they were impressed. "Well?" he asked impatiently. "You guys coming or not?"

Lynn glanced over at Jayne. Jayne sighed and rolled her eyes. Lynn turned back to the brothers, her expression brightening. "You know it," she grinned.

* * *


	5. Come Play With Me

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to wurd-god and Nelle07 for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 5: Come Play With Me

"Mr. Carlton?"

The gray haired man with the wide, tormented gray eyes looked up from where he was sitting on his bench. Dean and Sam Winchester were standing on his dock, attempting to give him understanding smiles.

"We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind," Sam said.

Dean spoke up. "We're from the department of…"

"I don't care where you're from," Mr. Carlton replied. "I've answered enough questions for today."

It was hard to be offended. The man sounded so broken, that both Winchesters felt only sympathy for the grieving father.

"Your son said he saw something in that lake," Sam said gently. "What about you? You ever see anything out there?"

Bill Carlton didn't respond. "Mr. Carlton," Sam tried again. "Sophie's drowning and Will's death. We think there might be a connection. Do you or your family…"

"My children are gone," he interrupted, tears in his voice. "It's… it's worse than dying."

Both boys were effectively silenced. "Go away," he said. "Please."

What could they say to that? Both Sam and Dean turned from Mr. Carlton and went away.

* * *

Jayne sighed heavily from the driver's seat of her Nissan, which was parked before the Carlton house. A glance in the rearview mirror revealed that Dean and Sam were returning from the dock. "Finally," she announced. "Damn it, why did we have to sit here while they did that anyway?"

"Oh, calm down," Lynn said from the passenger seat. "He already knew them from when they talked to his son about Sophie. It's just easier this way, all right?"

Jayne fell silent, her expression still grumpy. Dean stopped outside her open window. "Hey," he said. "Bill Carlton doesn't want to talk."

"So what?" Jayne snapped.

"So the man's been through Hell," Dean replied. "And I think I found another way to get the information we need."

"Really?" Jayne asked. "And what's that?"

He waved the crayon drawing of a house that Lucas had drawn for him. "Look familiar?"

Lynn gasped from the passenger's side. "Oh my God. That's the Carlton house."

"Exactly," Dean said. "I think maybe Lucas knows something too. We're headed over to the Barr house. You two still interested in coming?"

"Of course we are," Lynn replied. Jayne sighed again.

"All right," Dean said. "Meet you there."

He and Sam climbed into the Impala and pulled out of the Carlton driveway. Jayne started up the pickup truck and followed close behind them. "What's the big deal about that drawing?" Jayne asked her sister.

"Lucas gave it to him at the park," Lynn replied. "I guess Dean thinks maybe Lucas saw something on the lake, and he's trying to tell Dean through his artwork."

"That's kind of a stretch, isn't it?"

Lynn shrugged. "Hey, what else are we going to do if Mr. Carlton won't talk? It's better than nothing."

"I think we should go back to the Carlton house and _make_ him talk."

"Jayne, don't be an insensitive prig."

Jayne sighed. "Fine. I just hope that kid can actually give us something to go on here."

* * *

"I'm sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea."

Andrea Barr stared suspiciously at the four people in her house. Personally, Jayne couldn't blame her. If Lucas was _her_ son, she'd be throwing these crazy people out too.

"Please," Dean said. "I just need to talk to your son. Just for a few minutes."

"He won't say anything," Andrea replied. "What good's it going to do?"

"Andrea," Sam put in softly. "We think more people might get hurt. We think something's happening out there."

"My husband, the others… they just drowned. That's all."

"If that's what you really believe," Dean announced. "Then we'll go. But if you think there is even a possibility that something else could be going on here, please let me talk to your son."

Andrea stared at him. She seemed to be faltering. She glanced over at Jayne and Lynn, who had remained silent. Lynn picked up immediately on what she was looking for. Andrea wanted female reassurance. It was pretty hard for a woman alone to trust two random guys who came bursting through her front door, especially when one of them wore a leather jacket and didn't have a close enough shave. But two women? Even if one of them had holes in her jeans and a large stud in her nose, they were better than the alternative.

Seeing as Lynn happened to be the one _without_ holes in her jeans and a stud in her nose, she decided it ought to be her who spoke up. "Andrea," she said quietly. "I know how this sounds. Trust me, if I were you, I'd be trying to kick us out too. But sometimes the best thing for a kid is to face what he's afraid of. You're doing more than a service to the people in this town by letting us speak to your son. You're helping Lucas."

Andrea stared at Lynn for a moment. Lynn held the gaze, her eyes earnest and understanding. Finally, she said, "All right. You can talk to Lucas."

They followed her upstairs to Lucas's bedroom. The kid was sitting on the floor, army men scattered around him, and drawing with his crayons again. Dean crossed over the threshold and knelt down on the floor beside Lucas.

"Hey, Lucas," he said. "Remember me?"

The kid didn't give any indication that he'd heard the question. "You know, I… uh, wanted to thank you for that last drawing," Dean continued. "But the thing is, I need your help again."

Lucas continued to ignore him. Dean pulled out the drawing of the Carlton house. "How did you know to draw this?" he asked. "Did you know something bad was going to happen?"

The kid kept right on coloring. "Maybe you could nod yes or no for me," Dean tried.

Still nothing. "You're scared," Dean said. "It's ok. You see, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom. And for a long time, I was scared too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom? I know she wanted me to be brave. And I think about that everyday. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe your dad wants you to be brave too."

The words seem to hit home. Lucas put down his crayon and stared up at Dean.

Lynn was surprised. She hadn't been sure Dean could break through with the kid a second time. A glance over at Sam told her he was surprised as well, but not about Dean's ability to get the kid to interact, albeit silently. It suddenly dawned on Lynn that whatever Dean had just told Lucas, he had never told his little brother.

Lynn raised an eyebrow at Jayne, but her stepsister didn't see her. She was shocked to discover that Jayne was staring at Dean and Lucas, her arms crossed over her chest, and her eyes wide. She blinked and swallowed. Lynn quickly looked away, sensing that Jayne didn't want her to see the expression on her face.

She was right. Jayne couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight. There was something in the way Dean told his story that made her think he wasn't bullshitting the kid. She looked at the way Lucas stopped coloring and made eye contact with the elder Winchester brother. The kid reached into his stack of drawings and pulled out a picture. Then he handed it to Dean.

"Thanks, Lucas," he said.

Unlike Lynn, Jayne was not surprised that Dean had managed to reach the traumatized little boy. When it came right down to it, Lucas felt he could trust Dean because the two of them understood one another. And even though neither one of them knew it yet – and hopefully, never would – Jayne had suddenly realized that she understood them too.

* * *

Outside the local copy shop, Jayne, Lynn and Sam stood leaning against their cars, waiting for Dean. Finally, he walked out the door and approached the three of them. He handed the copy he'd made of Lucas's drawing to Jayne.

"All right," he announced. "Here's the plan. We're going to split up and try to find this house. Ok?"

"So, wait," Lynn spoke up. "Just so we're clear. We're going to go find a replica of this house in the area because we think it has something to do with the spirit out on the lake?"

"That's right," Dean replied.

"And – not that I'm a skeptic, or anything – but why is it that we think Lucas knows something about all this?"

"Well," Sam spoke up, sounding rather skeptical himself. "There _have_ been cases where going through a traumatic experience _could_ make certain people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies…"

"And Andrea said, the kid never drew like that until his dad died," Dean interrupted. "So maybe, whatever's out there, Lucas is tapping into it somehow."

Lynn raised her eyebrow. _This_ was a stretch. Sam didn't look entirely convinced either, but he seemed willing to give it a try. Lynn glanced over her shoulder at her stepsister. To her surprise, Jayne wasn't wearing a skeptical expression, and she didn't look irritated. She seemed thoughtful, and she was studying the crayon drawing intently.

"All right," she said suddenly, surprising the hell out of her stepsister. "Let's do this."

Lynn watched in astonishment as Jayne opened the driver's side door to the pickup. Her stepsister slid in behind the wheel and started the ignition. Immediately, Janis Joplin started screaming out the open window.

Lynn turned back to the brothers. Dean raised his eyebrow, staring at the truck. "Give us a call if you find anything," Sam murmured.

Lynn nodded. "Yeah, same to you."

The brothers got into their car. Lynn jumped up into the passenger seat of the truck as Dean started the ignition. The two vehicles roared off in different directions.

"You seem less than skeptic about all this," Lynn announced almost immediately. "Which is less than normal. What's going on here, Jayne?"

She shrugged. "Kids don't just stop talking for no reason. Something scared him."

Lynn nodded slowly. "This doesn't have anything to do with the scene back in the Barr house?"

Jayne frowned at the road. "What do you mean?"

"You looked… really strange when Dean was telling that kid about his mom."

Jayne shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about. Are you watching the road or not? We're supposed to be finding a yellow two-story."

"I'll tell you when I see a white church," Lynn retorted. "Yellow two-story's not enough to go on. Now, back to _my_ question. Does this have something to do with Ana?"

Jayne tensed. "No."

"Really? Because your mom…"

"This isn't about my mom," Jayne interrupted savagely. "This is about a scared little boy, and one nasty ass ghost. And I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let this thing hurt any more people. Now let's just focus on the task at hand!"

Lynn was about to continue arguing, but Jayne suddenly blasted her music. Unable to make herself heard over both Janis Joplin's powerful voice and Jayne's terrible singing, Lynn fell silent and stared petulantly out the window.

* * *

After an hour of driving around, finding nothing in the way of yellow two stories or white churches, Lynn was ready to give up. "I don't think this is working," she announced.

Jayne didn't reply, still glancing around for the real life version of the drawing.

"Jayne," Lynn said, more insistent this time. "This isn't working. We're not finding anything. Can we go back to the motel? I'm tired and I'm starving."

"If you're hungry, we can go through the next fast food drive-in we pass."

"Jayne…."

"I'm not stopping until someone finds something!" Jayne snapped. "We'll either keep going until _we_ find something, or until the Winchesters call."

Lynn crossed her arms and glowered out the windshield.

Suddenly, her cell phone rang. Lynn snatched it up and glanced at the caller ID. "I think this is Sam," she announced, flipping the phone open.

"Hello?"

"Um… Lynn?"

"Yeah, hey Sam."

"Hey, uh… we found the house."

Lynn glanced over at Lynn. "They found the house," she hissed at her.

Jayne's interest peaked.

"What happened?" Lynn asked.

"Well, we met a woman who lived there. Her son went missing thirty five years ago – which is close to the time frame in which the drownings have been happening. Anyway, they never found him. No idea what happened to him."

"What was his name?"

"Pete Sweeney."

"And you think he drowned in the lake?"

"Well, actually, we think his buddy from Boy Scouts might have done something to him."

Lynn frowned. "Who was his buddy from Boy Scouts?"

"Bill Carlton."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Sam paused for a moment. "Look, Dean and I are going back to the Carlton house to check out a few things. We'll meet you back at the motel."

"All right, sounds good," Lynn replied. "See you there."

"Bye."

Lynn hung up her cell. "All right, we think the ghost's name is Pete Sweeney," she announced. "He was a young boy who disappeared and was never found. He was also an old Boy Scout pal of Bill Carlton's."

Jayne nodded. "And we think Bill Carlton was somehow involved in his disappearance?"

"That's the theory."

"Where to now?"

"We're meeting the boys back at the motel."

"All right then," Jayne replied. She pulled off to the side of the road and turned around in the dirt. Then she drove back out onto the road and started speeding towards the motel.

Lynn sighed. "You know, every time I get in a car with you, it takes years off my life."

"Shut up. You know you like it."

* * *

Jayne leaned back against the headboard of the cheap motel bed, listlessly channel surfing. Nothing on the T.V. seemed to really interest her. Lynn was pacing the hotel room back and forth, occasionally earning herself a glare from Jayne when she obstructed the television screen. Finally, Jayne let out an exasperated sigh.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" she exploded. "You look like you're going to piss your pants or something. If so, the bathroom's right over there!"

Lynn shot her stepsister a glare. "I'm worried," she announced. "We should have heard from them by now. What's taking so long?"

Jayne rolled her eyes and returned to the T.V. "If you're so anxious, call Sam again."

Lynn stopped suddenly – and happened to do so directly in front of the T.V. "Move, Lynn!" Jayne shouted.

Lynn walked over to the small table under the window and picked up her cell phone. She dialed Sam's number, let it ring for a few minutes, and then threw it down on the table in disgust.

"He's still not answering," she said, annoyed.

Jayne sighed again. "Well, he'll call back."

Lynn started pacing again. Jayne rolled her eyes a second time. "The sun set half an hour ago," Lynn muttered. "What the hell are they doing?"

Jayne shrugged. "Maybe they got tied up at the Carlton place."

Suddenly, the phone rang. Lynn raced over to the table and answered her cell eagerly. "Hello? Sam?"

Jayne watched her stepsister. A frown spread across her face. "What do you mean, Bill Carlton's dead? Did he drown?" There was a pause. "His boat just flew up in the air? That's…. yeah, we're still at the motel." Lynn paused again. "You got run out of town?"

Jayne laughed.

Lynn glared at her stepsister. "Wait, so where are you now?" She paused again, listening. "You're coming back?"

"I thought they got run out of town," Jayne put in. Her stepsister waved at her to be quiet.

"Yeah. Yeah, all right. We'll meet you there." Lynn hung up her cell phone and started racing around, getting ready to leave. "Let's go, Jayne."

Jayne stared at her incredulously. "Go where?"

"The Barr household."

"Why?"

Lynn sighed. "Apparently, Dean and Sam ran into Lucas and Andrea at the police station, after Bill Carlton drowned. The kid was scared, Jayne. And Dean's worried something's going to happen to him."

Immediately, the T.V. was off, and Jayne was getting ready to leave too. "Are we meeting them there?"

"Yeah. Sam told me Dean wanted us to head out there because we're a lot closer right now. He's afraid they won't get there in time."

"All right," Jayne said, grabbing her keys. "Let's go."

* * *

Lucas opened the door, looking both terrified and eager. At the sight of Jayne and Lynn, however, he froze in the doorway, and all the eagerness left his face.

"Hi there, Lucas, sweetie," Lynn murmured, smiling for the little boy. "Remember us?"

The little boy stared at her. He looked ready to close the door in their faces.

"Is your Mom here?" Lynn tried again.

She got no response, silent or otherwise.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Lynn asked, frowning in concern.

Lucas's grip on the door tightened. Jayne saw the door start to close. She looked from Lynn's motherly and concerned face to Lucas's terrified one. The problem was clear: Lucas was scared all right, but he didn't want them. He wanted Dean.

Jayne slowly knelt down in front of Lucas. "Hey, Lucas," she said in a low voice. "We were here earlier today, remember? With Dean?'

The boy didn't respond, but he stopped moving the door.

"I'm Jayne," she continued. "And this is my stepsister, Lynn. We're friends of Dean's. He sent us here, to make sure you were all right."

Lucas stared at her. "He's coming soon," she assured him. "He's just got a little ways to drive, and he wanted to make sure nothing happened to you. He'll be here soon, I promise. Until then, whatever's going on, whatever it is that you're scared of, Lynn and I can stop it. I promise you. We can help."

Lucas continued watching her. He looked a little less inclined to slam the door and run. "Can you tell me what's wrong?" she asked.

A stare was his only answer. Jayne smiled softly, realizing her mistake. She slowly held out her hand to the little boy. "Can you show me?"

Lynn gasped in surprise. Lucas suddenly took Jayne's hand and practically dragged her up the stairs. She raced after them.

Lucas stopped outside a closed door, looking from Jayne to the door with a fearful expression. Jayne frowned at him. "Is your mom in here?" she asked.

Lucas was practically dancing in the hallway, he was so anxious. Jayne looked over at Lynn, and then knocked on the door. "Andrea?" she called. "Andrea, it's Jayne Gibson, from earlier…"

She was interrupted by a loud splash, followed by a terrified scream.

Lucas began pounding on the door, frightened out of his wits. Jayne grabbed him and pushed him towards Lynn, who tried to hold onto the little boy. The she twisted the knob, trying to get inside.

The door wouldn't budge. Jayne turned the knob with all her strength, throwing her weight into the door. When it still refused to open, Jayne stepped back and drew her gun. "Stay back!" she ordered Lucas and Lynn.

Then she shot the lock off, and burst into the room.

The bathtub was full of dark, black water. And Andrea was nowhere in sight. Jayne tensed at the eerie whispering that filled the bathroom.

But she did her best to ignore the bodiless voice, raced to the tub, and reached in, hoping to find Andrea. Her arms closed around the woman's waist, and she tried with all her might to drag her out of the tub. She pulled and pulled, but every time she almost got Andrea to the surface, an unseen hand would yank her back down again.

Straining with the effort of trying to haul Andrea out of the bathtub, she shouted, "Lynn!! Get in here and help me!!"

Suddenly, Lynn was at her side. The two of them grabbed a hold of Andrea and managed to finally wrestle the young woman out of the water. The three of them collapsed on the bathroom tiles.

"Andrea?" Jayne called. The woman was coughing uncontrollably. "Andrea? Are you all right?"

The woman didn't answer. She was too busy trying to breathe. "Lynn, get a towel."

Lynn grabbed a towel and covered the half-drowned woman with it. Jayne glanced out the bathroom door, thinking of Lucas. He shouldn't be seeing this.

He wasn't. Lucas was no longer in the hallway. "Lynn," Jayne exclaimed. "Where's Lucas?"

Lynn turned towards the hall. Her jaw dropped. "I don't know…"

Jayne got to her feet. "Lucas!"

Suddenly, Lucas flew into sight, dragging Dean Winchester behind him. Sam appeared directly after them. "Oh my God," Sam announced, racing into the bathroom and kneeling at Andrea's side. Lucas made to follow him, but Dean grabbed him around the waist and held him fast. "Is she all right?" Sam demanded.

"She'll be fine," Lynn murmured in reply, breathless. Andrea was still coughing, but slowly coming around. Jayne didn't seem to notice. She continued to stand, staring at the scared little boy and the man holding him.

* * *

Sam and Lynn helped Andrea into her bedroom. "What about Lucas?" she was asking, only half with it.

"Don't worry about Lucas," Lynn replied kindly. "He's with Jayne and Dean. They'll take care of him."

They guided Andrea to her bed. "But…" Andrea murmured.

"It'll be all right," Sam said. "You need to rest."

Andrea was a mess. She was only half awake, and still scared witless. She nodded and lay down in her bed. Lynn pulled the covers up around her.

Sam exchanged a look with Lynn. The two of them left the room. "Leave the light on," Andrea called after them.

The two hunters exchanged another look. "Of course," Sam said. They left the light on, and closed the door behind them.

In the hall, Sam shook his head. "She had a pretty close call back there," he announced.

Lynn nodded. "She's lucky," she said. "We got there right when it first started. If Jayne hadn't convinced Lucas to let us in…"

"How did she do that?" Sam asked curiously.

Lynn shrugged. "Jayne's got a way with kids," she replied. "A strange way that I've yet to fully understand."

Sam laughed slightly. "Yeah," he seemed to agree. "You seem more like the kid type."

"I am," Lynn returned. "But Jayne… she practically raised our little brother. I guess it's like practice makes perfect, you know?"

Sam nodded. "Where's your little brother?" he asked curiously.

She hesitated. It wasn't that Lynn didn't think Sam was trustworthy. She did. He was a nice guy, and he had this earnest puppy-dog thing going for him. But Lynn couldn't tell him about Stephen, she simply couldn't. For starters, it was family business. Private family business. And if Lynn told Sam all about it, she was pretty sure Jayne would kill her.

She shrugged, and gave Sam a smile. "He grew up," she said simply.

* * *

Lucas was fast asleep in his bed, but both Jayne and Dean seemed unable to leave his doorway.

"What happened?" Dean asked suddenly.

Jayne stared at Lucas's bed. For a moment, she was quiet. Finally, she said, "We showed up. Lucas didn't want to let us in."

"Then how'd you get in?"

"Honestly? I dropped your name a lot."

Dean smirked. "Yeah. I suppose that would work."

Jayne smirked back. "Then, Lucas took me upstairs. And when I reached the bathroom, Andrea started screaming. I broke in, and Lynn and I pulled her out of the bathtub."

"What was it like? What did you see?"

"The tub was full of this dark, black water," Jayne replied, her voice getting quieter as she spoke. "Something had a hold of her. We almost couldn't get her out. And there was…" Jayne trailed off.

"What?"

She met Dean's eyes. "There was this weird whispering," she announced. "It sounded like… come play with me."

* * *


	6. Dead in the Water

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to wurd-god and Nelle07 for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 6: Dead in the Water

Andrea sat on the family room couch, wrapped up in her robe, the gray light of dawn softening the harsh purple circles under her eyes. Two chairs were pulled up beside the couch. One was occupied by Sam Winchester. The other held Lynn Juarez.

"Can you tell us?" Sam asked.

She shook her head. "No."

Meanwhile, Jayne poked her head inside the den. She caught sight of Dean rather roughly pulling old books and albums off the shelves and flipping through them. For a moment, she considered helping him, but soon abandoned the idea. Through the door beside the den, the one that led into the dining room, she saw a sight that interested her far more.

Lucas was sitting at the table with his crayons, drawing as usual. Carefully, Jayne stepped into the room and approached him slowly, strangely cautious of spooking him. Dealing with Lucas was almost like dealing with a wild animal. Just when you'd gotten up close enough to make a move, he'd turn and run away.

She sidled up to the table and looked down at the paper before him. Once again, he was drawing that same red bicycle. He was always drawing that bicycle. Scattered about the tabletop were various identical pictures.

"Hey, Lucas," she said quietly. "Drawing?"

He didn't reply. He didn't even look up. Jayne wasn't a bit surprised. "Always drawing that bike," she observed. "Is that like a hint, or something? You want a bike for your birthday?"

She knew that wasn't the reason, but she said it anyway. Again, Lucas ignored her. Jayne sighed and sat down next to him.

Lucas continued to ignore her, but he didn't tense up at her being so close either. "You know," she murmured. "That was real scary, right? Last night, with your mom?"

Lucas silently continued drawing. "You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?" she asked. "That's why you were so scared."

He kept going. "I know it's scary, Lucas," she murmured. "But if you know something, we need you to tell us. You've done a real good job of that so far, but you got to keep doing it. Don't let last night scare you into backing off."

Lucas's hand slowed the progress it was making across the page with the crayon, but that was the only sign that he'd heard her. Jayne bit her lip, contemplating whether or not to go on. A quick glance around assured her that she was alone with the kid. Knowing how disgustingly close to Dean's little soliloquy this was going to sound, Jayne pushed ahead anyway. The kid needed to know he wasn't alone. "I know it's scary," she said again. "Once… when I was your age… I… I saw something scary like that. It… I saw something hurt my mom. And I was scared too, Lucas, I was scared just like you. But… I couldn't let anyone know, you know? I had… I knew I had to be brave for my sister and my brother, because they were scared too. And if they knew I was scared, they'd be even more scared. So I had to get tough. I had to get brave, and fast."

She stopped, and glanced over at the kid again. Lucas was still drawing, but he looked like he was listening. "So I tried to be brave. I still try to be brave. My brother and my sister need me to be brave. And… well, I kind of think maybe your mom needs you to be brave too."

Lucas put the crayon down. Slowly, without making eye contact, he slid the drawing over to her. Jayne looked down at the construction paper in front of her, and took it up cautiously in her hands. The red bike was finished.

"Thanks Lucas," she said, turning her head to smile at him. To her surprise, he was no longer sitting beside her.

She glanced over towards the door. Lucas was standing on the other side of her now. He looked directly into her eyes. Jayne studied him carefully. Then he reached out his hand expectantly, and stood there, waiting.

"You want to show me something?" she asked.

He continued staring at her, hand out. "All right," she said, taking his hand. "Show me."

* * *

"This doesn't make any sense," Andrea nearly whimpered. She sounded on the verge of tears. "I'm going crazy."

"No, you're not," Sam said kindly. "Tell me what happened."

Andrea shook her head, burying her face in her hands. Lynn glanced over at Sam. They made eye contact briefly before Lynn said, "Andrea, my stepsister saw everything you did. And she heard something. She said she heard a voice. Did you hear anything like that?"

Andrea looked up and stared at Lynn. Slowly, she nodded. "I… I heard the voice… I heard it too. It said… it said… come play with me."

Sam glanced over at Lynn, as if to ask whether or not that was consistent with Jayne's story. Lynn nodded.

"What's happening?" Andrea asked, still frightened by the encounter of the night before.

Lynn placed a comforting hand on Andrea's arm. "Don't worry. Whatever it is, we're going to make it stop."

Before Andrea could reply, Dean appeared in the room and slapped a picture album down on the table in front of her. "Do you recognize the kids in any of these pictures?" he demanded.

Andrea blinked, surprised. "What? No, I… well, except that's my Dad," she pointed at one of the kids who did in fact resemble the sheriff. "He must have been about twelve in these pictures."

Dean looked over at Sam and Lynn. "Chris Barr's drowning? The connection wasn't to Bill Carlton; it must have been to the sheriff."

"Bill _and_ the sheriff," Sam replied. "They were both involved with Peter."

"What about Chris?" Andrea asked. "My Dad? What are you talking about?"

"You guys," Jayne's voice sounded from the other side of the room.

All four of them looked up to see Lucas leading Jayne towards the door. She gestured at the kid, and inclined her head as if to say, 'come with us.' Lynn stood up immediately, making her way around Dean towards her stepsister. As Lucas led Jayne out the door, Andrea, Lynn, Dean, and Sam hurried to follow them.

Lucas dragged Jayne across the yard, everyone else following close behind them. "Lucas?" Andrea asked. "Honey, what is it?"

Lucas kept going until he reached a certain spot in the grass, on top of the incline in the backyard. He stopped, bouncing on the soft, mossy dirt. Then he looked up briefly at Jayne before turning his stare to Dean.

Jayne tore her gaze from Lucas and made eye contact with Dean. He stared back at her. Slowly, she handed the crayon drawing of the bicycle Lucas had given her to Dean. He looked down at the picture, and then met Lucas's eyes.

He glanced over at Andrea. "You and Lucas get back to the house and stay there," he ordered.

Andrea grabbed a hold of her son, who finally let go of Jayne's hand. The two of them made their way back to the house. Dean glanced from Lynn to Jayne. "You two go with them," he said. "Make sure nothing happens."

Lynn nodded, and followed Andrea and Lucas. Sam muttered something about shovels and wandered off to the shed in the backyard. Jayne caught Dean's eye.

She could tell the elder Winchester looked worried. Even though she wasn't as quick to trust the two brothers as Lynn was, Jayne still appreciated the fact that Dean cared about the little boy. She was starting to as well. "Don't worry," she said, looking him directly in the eye. "I'm not going to let a damn thing happen to the kid."

He raised his eyebrow. She turned away from him and walked back to the house.

* * *

As Lynn, Jayne, Lucas, and Andrea watched from the Barr house, both Sam and Dean dug through the dirt at the top of the incline, determined to find something. After half an hour, their hard work paid off. Dean's shovel hit something hard, and they heard a metallic clang. He and Sam tossed their shovels aside and hauled the metal contraption out of the earth.

Though old and covered in soil, it was obvious at once what the two boys had stumbled upon. "Peter's bike!" Sam exclaimed.

The click of a pistol cocking caught the brothers' attention, and the two of them turned around to see the sheriff standing behind them, holding them at gunpoint. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Put the gun down, Jake," Sam said calmly.

"How did you know that was there?" he growled, his arm starting to shake.

"What happened?" Dean retorted. "You and Bill kill Peter? Drowned him in the lake, and then buried the bike? You can't bury the truth, Jake. Nothing stays buried."

From inside the house, Andrea watched her father threaten the Winchesters in horror. Jayne and Lynn looked nervous as well. "Uh-oh," Lynn murmured.

Andrea turned to Lucas. "Stay here," she ordered him. Then she raced outside, Lynn hot on her heels.

Jayne watched the two of them speed away, contemplating joining them. Then she glanced at Lucas and thought better of it. Right now, as far as she was concerned, the kid's safety was the most important thing to worry about.

"Don't worry, kid," she said quietly. "They'll be back. It'll be fine."

Lucas didn't reply. He didn't even look remotely nervous. He just stared out the window, watching the grown-ups yell at one another. Then he walked to the back door.

Feeling unaccountably panicked, Jayne blocked his way. "Whoa, Lucas, where you going?" she asked.

He stared up at her with his huge, unblinking blue eyes. She frowned. "Lucas," she murmured. "What's wrong?"

He glanced out the door, towards the lake. "I think you better stay in here, kid," she announced, as if reading his mind.

She felt uneasy as he looked up at her again. "All right," she said finally, still frowning at him. "Show me."

His hand closed over hers, and then he started pulling her out the door. Jayne let him drag her in the direction of the lake. A glance over her shoulder showed that Andrea was arguing with her father, and the three hunters were standing around, occasionally putting in a word or two. She returned her attention to Lucas. He dragged her all the way to the bank, where the land inclined deeply before reaching lake. Jayne stopped, giving him a gentle tug backwards before they reached the wooden ramp that led down the incline and onto the dock. "I don't think so, Lucas," she said. "We're not going down there."

He looked up at her again with those same unblinking eyes. "I'm sorry, kid, but it's not safe," she answered the look. "You know it's not safe. Whatever it is, we're not going down there."

He took a step towards the incline, but Jayne dragged him back again. She knelt down in front of him, taking both his arms in her hands. "Lucas," she whispered. "I know you want to show me something, but not down there, all right? We can go back in the house, and you can draw me a picture. All right?"

"Jayne?"

She looked up at the distant sound of her stepsister's voice. Lynn was no longer paying attention to the argument between Andrea, Jake, and the Winchesters. She was staring at Jayne. Jayne shrugged at her. Everyone else looked up too. Jayne ignored all of them, and turned back to Lucas.

"Come on," she said again. "Let's go in, ok?"

She stood slowly, keeping a firm grip on Lucas's shoulder, and attempted to lead him back towards the house. At first, it seemed like it was going to work. Lucas began to walk with her.

And then, she heard a strange cracking noise behind her. Turning around, Jayne saw the dock shaking in the dark black water.

Jayne glanced down at Lucas. He looked terrified. She couldn't really blame him. Taking his arm, she yanked him away from the incline – but not before something invisible in the water seemed to rise up against the wooden dock, knocking the planks loose, and sending them flying towards the incline. Jayne practically threw the kid to the ground and hunched over him protectively as the planks came soaring towards them.

"_Lucas!_" she heard Andrea shout in horror.

"Jayne!" Lynn's equally terrified voice sounded.

Jayne pressed herself and Lucas as far down into the dirt as she could. The planks fell all around them, most of them miraculously missing the pair. Only a couple landed on top of Jayne, but not hard enough to really injure her. As the dock flew into smithereens, the ramp leading down to the dock fell into the lake and was swallowed by the black water.

The ramp took the dirt of the embankment with it. Jayne felt the earth slide away beneath her and Lucas. Then she tumbled to the lake below, Lucas right behind her.

As she fell, Jayne grabbed a hold of a tree root sticking out the side of the embankment, and caught Lucas by the hand before he hit the water. The small boy dangled inches above the black lake.

Jayne looked down at the lake. To her horror, she saw a small, grayish head poking out of the water, its huge blue eyes staring at both her and Lucas from under its wet red hair.

"Peter?"

Jayne looked up to see the sheriff's head poking over the embankment. He was staring wide-eyed and horrified at the sight before him.

Then a green-gray arm shot out of the water and grabbed Lucas by the ankle. There was a sharp tug. Jayne held fast to the kid's wrist.

The tugs continued, until they were strong enough to tear Jayne from her root. Both Jayne and Lucas crashed into the water below.

"Lucas!"

"Jayne!"

By now Lynn, Andrea, Jake, Dean, and Sam had reached the embankment. Neither Jayne nor Lucas had surfaced yet. "_Lucas_!" Andrea shouted, anguished.

"Oh my God," Lynn nearly whimpered.

Dean dove into the water, and Lynn followed directly after him. Sam turned to Andrea, who was pulling off her jacket. "Stay here!" he ordered.

"No!" she cried. "Lucas!"

"We're going to get him! Just stay on the bank!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sam leapt over the side after Dean and Lynn. Andrea watched as the three hunters dove beneath the surface for long periods of time, continually resurfacing with nothing. She didn't notice her father wander off on his own.

Lynn and Sam both resurfaced. Lynn looked like she was on the verge of tears. Then, suddenly, the ripples between the two hunters swelled, and a heavy body flew up out of the lake with a splash, hitting the embankment, and then bouncing back into the water.

"Jayne!" Lynn shouted, swimming furiously over to her stepsister. She grabbed the other woman by the arms as Sam dove beneath the surface again. Jayne, though breathless, appeared to be fine, and tried to struggle out of her stepsister's grip. "Are you all right?" Lynn demanded, her voice wobbling.

Jayne nodded. "I'm fine," she panted. "Lucas…"

"What happened?"

"I tried to hold onto him," Jayne gasped. "But… it threw me…"

Dean resurfaced. He stared quizzically at Jayne. "There!" she ordered him, pointing to a specific spot in the lake.

He didn't ask questions. He dove under the water directly where Jayne had pointed.

"Peter!"

Jayne and Lynn turned to stare at the spot where the voice had come from. The sheriff had wandered off to a spot where the bank was lower to the water, and was wading out into the lake. "Daddy!" Andrea shouted at him. "Daddy, no!"

"Get out of the lake, Jake!" Lynn shouted, swimming towards the sheriff.

The Winchesters resurfaced as Jake swam farther out. "Peter, if you can hear me… Peter, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But Peter, please! Please! He's just a little boy! Take me! Please, let him go! Take me instead! Please!"

"Go back!" Lynn exclaimed.

"Daddy!" Andrea cried.

"Jake, no!" Dean shouted at him.

It was too late. Suddenly, something pulled Jake beneath the surface of the lake. He didn't come back up.

"No!" Andrea screamed.

Dean and Sam exchanged looks, and dove beneath the surface once again. Andrea watched the water, horrified. Jayne dove under the water too, leaving Lynn cursing on the surface. "Jayne!" she shouted. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

Jayne couldn't hear her under the water. Lynn shook her head and dove under next.

One by one, Sam, Jayne, and Lynn all resurfaced, panting, with no Lucas to be seen. Sam looked up at Andrea on the embankment and sadly shook his head.

"No!" the woman half-sobbed.

Then, Dean broke the surface. He had Lucas in his arms.

* * *

"Well, thanks for your help."

Lynn looked up at Sam, who seemed rather sheepish about the whole thank you he was delivering. "No problem," she replied, smiling at him.

They were standing in the Lakeview Motel parking lot. Not far away, Dean was loading up the Impala, and Jayne was leaving their motel room, presumably to say good-bye.

"You know," Sam murmured thoughtfully. "The four of us? We actually make a halfway decent team."

She smirked at him. "Only halfway?"

He smirked back. "Look," Lynn said, rather bluntly if truth be told. "I know you and Dean have this whole 'we don't need anyone's help' attitude going on – and trust me, working alongside Jayne for as long as I have? I get it, I really do. But it's just like I tell her – this job will kill you if you don't let people in."

Sam ducked his head down and stared at the pavement. "I mean it," she went on. "That's why I gave you my number. If you and your brother ever need _anything_ – anything at all – call us. We'll help."

Sam glanced over at Jayne, his eyebrow raised. Lynn rolled her eyes. "She will too," she said in response to his unasked question. "She may kick and scream the whole way, but she'll do it. I mean, who can say no to this face?"

She pouted at Sam. He couldn't help but laugh slightly. A grin spread across Lynn's face. "Take care of yourselves," she said."

He nodded. "Same to you two."

* * *

"What, you're not going to say good-bye?"

Jayne looked up at the elder Winchester as she passed his car purposefully. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she smirked. "Not if I can avoid it," she replied.

He smirked back, closing the trunk. "So… Lucas kind of took a liking to you, huh?" he said almost conversationally.

She shrugged. "Kind of. Kind of took a liking to you too."

He grinned. "Yeah, well. No mystery there. I'm irresistible. You, on the other hand…"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. Whatever makes you feel good about yourself."

Dean leaned against the Impala. "You guys leaving soon?"

She nodded. "In a little while."

He nodded back. "Well… bye then."

She forced a second long half smile. "Bye."

Sam and Lynn walked up to the Impala. "Dean," Lynn said, smiling at him. He grinned back.

"Lynn," he smirked.

"I was just telling your brother over here that my offer still stands," she announced. "You two ever need help, give us a call."

"Give _her_ a call," Jayne corrected her stepsister.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Right. Give _me_ a call."

"Will do, sweetheart," Dean replied with a grin. Lynn smirked at him.

"You two be safe," she said. "Bye Sam. Bye Dean."

"Bye," Jayne added. "Uh… don't die or anything like that."

For the second time, Lynn rolled her eyes at Jayne.

"Later," Dean returned, getting into the Impala.

"Good bye Lynn, Jayne," Sam said, following his brother's example.

The two girls watched as the Winchesters drove away. Then, as the car rounded the corner and disappeared, Lynn turned to her stepsister and gave her an incredulous look. "Don't die or anything like that?" she asked, shocked at her stepsister's inability to communicate.

Jayne snorted. "Whatever."

The two of them walked back into their motel room. Jayne returned to her packing as Lynn booted up the laptop. Several minutes later, and she said to Jayne, "He's on the move."

"Headed where?"

"I don't know, east maybe? He's just leaving town."

Jayne picked up the pace. "Better start packing," she said to her stepsister.

Lynn nodded. "I don't know Jayne. Doesn't this strike you as odd?"

"Lots of things strike me as odd," Jayne retorted. "Be more specific."

"He was here nearly as long as we were, and yet we saw no sign of him," Lynn replied. "I don't know, Jayne. He's doing an awfully good job of hiding out."

"Well, of course he is," Jayne said. "He learned from the best, didn't he? Russ was an expert hunter. Your dad taught us well."

Lynn nodded, still staring at her monitor. "Yeah," she agreed. "But that's the whole problem, Jayne. Maybe Stephen doesn't want to be found."

Silence descended on the motel room. Then Jayne shrugged. "Maybe not," she replied. "But the way I look at it, I don't really give a damn what he wants at this point. He can run away from us as much as he likes. We're going to find him. End of story."

Lynn stared at her stepsister for a moment. Then she nodded, determination settling in over her as well. "You're right," she agreed. "We're going to find him. End of story."

* * *


	7. A Meeting in an Airport

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to Winchesters Gurl, wurd-god, Nelle07, Living.By.Will, and TheWinchesterAngel for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 7: A Meeting in an Airport

Dean Winchester drove his Impala into the airport parking lot of Catani, Pennsylvania early that afternoon, frowning through the windshield. A glance over at his sleeping brother only deepened the frown.

He was starting to really worry about Sam. The boy wasn't sleeping, and whenever he did sleep, he was always having some awful dream about his dead girlfriend. When he'd approached Sam about it, Sam had given him some bullshit about how the job was getting to him.

The job could get to you. Dean knew that. But this wasn't about the job. This was about something else.

Sighing, Dean gave his brother a shake. "Sam! Sammy, wake up!"

Sam groaned, slowly opening his eyes. "Don't call me Sammy," he grumbled sleepily. He sat up straight and blinked a few times. Then he looked at his older brother. "Are we here?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, we're here. Get out."

Sam laughed as the two of them climbed out of the Impala. "Man, I can't believe I fell asleep."

"I can," Dean retorted. "You haven't slept in forever. Only a matter of time before your body made you."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever. So this Jerry Pinowski guy? You know him?"

"Yeah, like I said, Dad and I got him out of a tight spot with a poltergeist. He knows our work." Dean said this last sentence with his usual smirk. Sam once again rolled his eyes.

"So what did he say this was about?" he asked. "Something to do with a plane, the airport?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't know. He didn't want to talk about it over the phone."

"Strange."

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged again. "We're used to strange."

The two brothers walked inside the airport through the back entrance, making their way to the hangers. A secretary directed them to Jerry Pinowski's offices, and when they got there, they found the short, balding, frank-faced man waiting for them.

"Good to see you again, Dean," he said with a short smile and a firm handshake.

"You two," Dean replied. "This is my little brother, Sam."

"Nice to meet you," Sam smiled, shaking Jerry's hand too.

Jerry nodded, giving the other Winchester a second short smile. "You too." He hesitated briefly, glancing around the three of them with apparent nervousness. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk about this in private. Follow me to my office."

They nodded their assent and began making their way across the hangers. "Thanks for making the trip so quick," Jerry said as they walked. "I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around." He turned to Sam. "Dean and your Dad really helped me out."

"Yeah, he told me," Sam replied. "It was a poltergeist?"

"Poltergeist?" a worker called out rather stupidly as he walked past. "Man, I love that movie!"

"Hey!" Jerry snapped at his employee. "Nobody's talking to you! Keep walking!" Once they'd put some distance between themselves and the employee, Jerry continued with, "Damn right it was a poltergeist. It practically tore our house apart. I'll tell you something, if it weren't for you and your Dad, I probably wouldn't be alive."

Dean smirked at his brother. Before Sam had time to roll his eyes, Jerry asked, "Your Dad said you were off at college, that right?"

"Yeah, I was," Sam said. "I'm taking some time off."

"Well, he was real proud of you, I could tell," Jerry went on. "He talked about you all the time."

Sam was rather surprised. "He did?"

"You bet he did." Suddenly, Jerry turned to Dean. "Hey, I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?"

"He's, uh, wrapped up in a job right now," Dean replied.

"Well, we're missing the old man, we get Sam. Even trade, right?"

They laughed at the joke. "Not by a long shot," Sam returned.

"I got something I want you guys to hear," Jerry said, abruptly changing the subject.

The three of them entered Jerry's office. They all sat down around his desk, and Jerry slid a CD into his CD player. "All right, listen to this. It sounded like it was up your alley. Normally, I wouldn't have access to this. It's the copied voice recorder for Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours."

The recording began to play. "Mayday, mayday…" The voice began requesting help, saying they were crash landing due to mechanical failure. As they sat there, listening to the voice, they became aware of something else in the background – something that shouldn't be there.

It was a loud sort of roaring sound, one that was rather high pitched and definitely eerie. It sent chills up the spine. The noise increased, drowning out the pilot's requests for help, and then the recording ended abruptly in a sudden explosion of static.

"It took off from here," Jerry said, turning off the CD player. "Crashed about 200 miles south. Now they're saying mechanical failure. The cabin depressurized somehow, nobody knows why. A hundred people on board – only seven got out alive. The pilot was one. His name was Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault."

"You don't think it was," Sam said.

"No," Jerry replied. "I don't."

"Jerry, we're going to need passenger manifests, a list of survivors…"

"Right," Dean interrupted. "And um, anyway we could take a look at the wreckage?"

"The other stuff is no problem," Jerry returned. "But the wreckage? Fellas, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance."

Dean nodded, attempting a weak smile. "No problem."

* * *

Jayne Gibson parked her old gray pickup truck in the parking lot of a crappy motel, sighing heavily. It had been a long trip to where they'd ended up, and Jayne was not impressed by the town that was Catani, Pennsylvania. From what she'd seen so far, it was a small, dirty, soon-to-be city, and there was nothing much in it of interest. Why Stephen had decided to settle here after a long trip across the country was beyond her. It was as if he'd just opened an atlas to the index, and picked out the weirdest city name he could find.

In the passenger seat beside he, her stepsister sighed too, shutting down her laptop. "We better go get a room," she said wearily.

Jayne nodded mutely. Lynn opened the truck door and stepped out into the lot. Then she stopped and stared at a spot across the street from them.

"What?" Jayne asked, climbing out of the truck as well.

She pointed at the Catani Britannia Airport across the street. "That's an airport," she announced. "We're staying at an airport motel."

Jayne glanced over at the airport, and then back at her stepsister, unimpressed. "Yeah, so?"

Lynn bit her lip and looked over at her sister. "What if Stephen came here to catch a plane?" she asked, sounding worried.

Jayne raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Well, Jayne, maybe he's getting out of here, you know? Maybe he's going to another country or something."

"He wouldn't do that," Jayne replied without hesitation.

"How would you know?"

"Because then he'd have to ditch the Superbird," she said. "And there's no way Stephen would _ever_ do that. He loves that car. Asking him to part with the Superbird would be like asking him to cut off a limb."

Lynn studied the blacktop under her sneakers. "I don't know, Jayne. Stephen's been doing a lot of things that aren't like him lately. Maybe whatever it is that's got him running is enough to make him ditch the Bird."

Jayne was silent for a moment. Then she turned and started walking towards the motel. "Maybe," she replied. "We'll check it out once we get a room and check the obits and stuff, all right?"

Lynn sighed heavily. "All right."

* * *

Jayne surveyed the crowded airport lobby with a heavy sigh. Several phone calls to local hospitals and a quick check of the obits had turned up nothing. Now, at Lynn's insistence, the two stepsisters were at Britannia Airlines, hoping someone could tell them something about Stephen.

They stared at the circulation desk calculatingly. Their target was a young man, just out of high school, with a very unfortunate skin complaint.

"All right, here's the plan," Jayne announced. "You're going to go over there, work the distraught older sister routine, and flash your cleavage a lot. That should get him to cooperate."

"Wait," Lynn said, frowning. "Why do _I_ have to do it?"

Jayne gave her sister an appraising look. "Because _you_ have the… assets."

Lynn, still frowning, looked behind her at her curvaceous rear. "Well, actually, I meant _those_ assets," Jayne said, gesturing at her stepsister's huge breasts. "But yes, you've got a nice ass as well."

Lynn gave her stepsister a dirty look. "You know, your 'assets' aren't _that_ much smaller than mine. _And_ you have blonde hair. Don't gentlemen prefer blondes? There's a whole Marilyn Monroe movie about it."

"Ah. Yes. I _do_ have blonde hair," Jayne admitted. "But _you_ have those big dick-sucking lips. Dick-sucking lips totally trump blonde hair."

Her stepsister looked scandalized. "I do _not_ have dick-sucking lips!"

"Totally have dick-sucking lips."

"Do not!"

Jayne sighed heavily. "All right, all right. I'll make you a deal. You take this one; I'll get the next, ok? Now can we get this show on the road?"

"Fine," Lynn grumbled, pushing past her stepsister, heading towards the circulation desk. She stopped and turned back around. "I do _not_ have dick-sucking lips," she said one last time.

"Of course you don't," Jayne agreed. Lynn turned away again, and Jayne muttered under her breath, "Angelina."

Lynn whirled back around. "What did you say?"

"Nothing! I didn't say anything!" Jayne exclaimed. Lynn's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to go check out the overnight parking," she announced, backing away from her stepsister. "Look for the Superbird."

Lynn nodded. "All right. Meet you back here."

Jayne nodded back and made her way toward the exit. Lynn headed over to the desk.

Outside, Jayne crept furtively to the overnight parking lot, checking over her shoulder for signs of airport security. It wasn't that she was doing anything illegal and needed to worry about being caught – it was only that she knew she was going to look suspicious wandering around a parking lot full of cars that had practically been abandoned, and she didn't need the extra attention.

Jayne hopped over the waist-high fence that surrounded the lot and began walking slowly up and down the rows of cars on the blacktop. She frowned at car after car after car. There was no sign of Stephen's Superbird.

Finally, having exhausted the search for the bright orange muscle car, Jayne exited the parking lot and made her way back to the airport. She couldn't help but feel disappointed. Not finding the car should have been a relief – it meant there was a good chance her stepbrother was still in the area. He hadn't caught a plane out of the country or anything like that. But now she simply didn't know what to do. Where had her brother gone? Why couldn't she and Lynn find him?

Her shoulders felt heavy as she walked back inside. Barely through the door, Jayne passed the men's restroom – only to be barreled into by a young man leaving the bathroom.

"Whoa, sorry," he apologized.

Jayne was miffed, but she managed not to yell. "It's fine," she said tightly, looking up at him.

He gaped at her, mouth wide open, eyes full of surprise. Jayne was sure his face matched her own. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?" she demanded.

Dean Winchester quickly got over his shock. He scoffed at the woman in front of him. "_Me_? What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

Jayne crossed her arms in front of her chest, not sure what was provoking her sudden burst of bitchiness. She had never been a very friendly person, but she wasn't a total bitch either – especially not to people who had never given her a reason to be.

"I asked first," she returned shortly.

He smirked. "Well, I have a friend who works here, and he gave me a call about a possible hunt," Dean replied. "Your turn."

Jayne blinked. She wasn't about to bring up Stephen. "Same here," she replied. "Lynn and I are on the lookout for a hunt."

Dean nodded slowly, not looking like he completely believed her. "Right," he said, another smirk forming on his face. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were stalking me. Are you stalking me, Jayne? Because you don't have to. I say yes to almost everyone."

Jayne rolled her eyes. There was no way he had just said that. She was beyond annoyed now. The strangely unprovoked bitchiness now had a legitimate reason to continue. "Well, I suppose _you'd_ have to."

He looked mildly affronted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why do you and your brother turn up everywhere we go?" she snapped. Somehow, she had switched into her suspicious, interrogating hunter mode. "Now that it's happened three times in a row, I think we can safely say this is no longer a coincidence."

He shook his head at her. "You know, it's funny," he said, suddenly sounding rather unpleasant. "But I was just about to ask you the same question. I'm serious, Jayne. Are you two following us around?"

"Why the hell would we do that?" she retorted. "If anyone's following anyone here, it's you two."

Dean snorted. "Really? Cause I'm willing to bet that we got here first."

Jayne rolled her eyes. "You know what? This is your one and only warning. Whatever creepy thing you and your brother are up to, it's over now. Keep away from me and my stepsister."

She turned her back on him and marched back towards the lobby. Almost there, she suddenly realized to her great disconcertion that he was following her. Jayne whirled around, glowering at Dean. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

He gave her an incredulous look. "Hey, I'm just trying to track my brother down," he retorted. "What the hell do _you_ think _you're_ doing?"

"My stepsister is in the lobby," she snapped.

The two of them, both rather disgruntled, turned away from each other and made to enter the main area of the airport. To their great annoyance, they found both Sam and Lynn standing by the circulation desk, having a conversation – a conversation that seemed to be going much differently than the one Jayne and Dean had just had.

Both of them sighed. "Damn it," they said at the same time. The simultaneous remark caused them to send each other another round of suspicious glares. Then the two of them pushed their way across the airport towards the other two hunters, each trying desperately to get there first – and giving one another nasty looks all along the way.

* * *

Lynn had undone the top two buttons on her rather tight gray pullover, showing off more cleavage than was probably appropriate. Swishing her hips more than she normally would have, she approached the main desk, her big brown eyes focused on the pimply young man. She did her best to tear up as she got closer, which turned out not to be such a challenge. Whenever Lynn thought about what might be going on with Stephen, she was prone to tearing up anyway.

She made it to the desk, and leaned over the counter, positioning her arms so they pushed up her breasts. Then she turned huge watery eyes on the young kid at the computer.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," she said in a rather breathy voice, doing her best Marilyn Monroe impression. Lynn watched far too many old movies – especially the ones that starred Marilyn Monroe. "But… my brother disappeared from home, and I was worried that he might have tried to take a plane out of this airport."

The young man looked up, annoyance in his eyes – annoyance that quickly disappeared when he got a good look at Lynn. She mentally cursed Jayne for knowing the kid behind the desk would like what he'd see. Lynn hated to prove her stepsister right.

She blinked back tears, jutting out her lower lip. "He's mentally challenged," she went on, doing her best to sound distressed. "And he can't really be trusted to live on his own. He stole my credit card and split. Can you tell me whether or not a Stephen Juarez has tried to get a flight out of here, and where he wanted to go?"

He stared at her. "Um… well… I'm not really supposed to do stuff like that…"

Lynn pouted harder, and blinked. A tear came rolling down her cheek. The young man looked around him quickly, and then said, "But I suppose in this situation, I can make an exception…"

Lynn brightened immediately. "Oh, thank you so much," she exclaimed. It was all she could do not to say 'thank you ever so.' She figured actually quoting Marilyn Monroe would be going a step too far.

She waited expectantly as the kid in front of her checked the computer for any signs of Stephen Juarez. Lynn was extremely disappointed, but in no way surprised, when his search turned up no results.

After thanking him again, Lynn turned from the desk and marched away – only to run directly into none other than Sam Winchester.

He blinked at her in surprise. "Uh… Lynn?"

Lynn gawked at him, completely thrown. He stared back. His eyes traveled down towards her chest. Then he swallowed, and looked away, seeming rather nervous. She frowned. Then, suddenly, Lynn realized her pullover was still unbuttoned at the top.

Embarrassed, she quickly fastened the offending button, and gave her head a shake, attempting to snap out of it. "Sam," she said, trying to smile. "Um… hi. I didn't expect to… well…" Suddenly, she frowned. "What are you doing here?"

He also tried to smile. "Um… actually, I was going to ask _you_ that."

Lynn felt torn. Once again, for the third time in a row, Jayne and she had traveled to a new town in search of Stephen, only to find the Winchesters. This was beyond strange. This was borderline suspicious.

At the same time, however, Lynn had a real hard time being suspicious of Sam when he was smiling at her from behind his messy brown hair and looking at her with those really attractive dark green eyes.

Inwardly, she winced. If Jayne had heard that thought… she could just imagine her stepsister's reaction. It wasn't a nice picture. What was wrong with her anyway? She might not have been as closed off from other people's society as Jayne was, but she didn't usually go in for the boy crazy thing either.

"Oh, you know," Lynn replied, trying to sound normal. "Jayne and I were just poking around, looking for a hunt. The usual. You?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah," he murmured. "Dean and I, well… actually, a friend of ours called up and asked us to investigate something."

He seemed reluctant to continue. Lynn began to realize that Sam was every bit as suspicious of this third coincidence as she was. She decided the best way to approach this was head on. "So, uh… this is kind of weird, isn't it?"

Sam nodded. "Uh… yeah," he laughed nervously. "Weird is definitely a good word for it."

Lynn smiled. "Look, um… this is… I hope you don't think that…"

"You're following us?" Sam interrupted, smirking.

Lynn laughed. "Uh… exactly. You know, that's exactly what I don't want you to think."

"Because then it would be easier to follow us?"

Lynn blinked at Sam. A slow smile spread across his face. "I'm kidding," he announced.

"Oh." She attempted to laugh again.

Sam shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, and let out a heavy breath. "Well, I hope you guys don't think that about us. Cause we're not."

Lynn nodded. "Right. I believe you."

It wasn't a lie. For some reason, Lynn really did believe Sam. Maybe it was the earnest expression in his puppy dog eyes. Maybe it was his genuine smile. Maybe it was the fact that he had been nothing but nice since the moment she'd met him. But Lynn believed him, even though she knew Jayne wouldn't.

Sam smiled. "Um... what's this hunt about?" Lynn asked.

She could tell Sam was hesitant to explain. Immediately, she knew that even though she felt inclined to believe him, he wasn't quite so sure about her. "Well, uh… there was a plane crash," he said. "And, uh… a friend of ours who works here thinks maybe it was supernatural."

"Oh," Lynn nodded. "What do… what do you think?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, I… believe him, I guess. He had this…." Suddenly, Sam trailed off and gave Lynn a funny look.

"What?" she asked.

"Uh…" he gave his head a little shake. "Nothing, just… well, I…"

"You don't trust me," Lynn finished for him. There was no hurt or annoyance in her voice. She actually sounded amused.

Sam blinked, and then tried to smile. "I don't…"

"It's ok," Lynn said. "I probably shouldn't trust you either. I mean, it's like we already said: this is kind of weird. Actually, scratch that – this is _really_ weird. But, hey… I like to think the best in people."

Sam laughed, almost in spite of himself. "Yeah, well…" He half frowned and half smiled. "Me too."

Lynn was rather taken aback by his reply, but tried not to show it. Instead, she asked, "So, uh… you guys need some help?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we could use it."

"You're going to let us help?" He nodded again. She was rather surprised. "Well, that was kind of a 180. What, you trust me all of a sudden?"

"Not exactly," Sam replied, smiling. "But, hey… keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

Lynn laughed. "So, what do you got so far?"

"Well, there was this recording… you know, from the plane's black box? It was the pilot, radioing for help. And then, well… his voice cut out, and we heard this… this kind of roaring sound? It was… well, it was definitely weird. Definitely not supposed to be there."

"Right," Lynn nodded thoughtfully. "Like white noise?"

"Sort of."

"You think it's a spirit or something? Haunted flight?"

"We're not sure yet," Sam returned. "That's what we're about to find out."

"Well, don't give the whole plan away, Sammy," a voice spoke up from the sidelines. "Since when are you such a chatterbox, huh?"

Both Sam and Lynn looked up to find Dean and Jayne standing beside them. Neither one of them looked too pleased about this sudden turn of events, although Dean _was_ attempting a good-natured grin. Sam raised an eyebrow at his older brother.

"She offered to help, Dean," Sam said in response to his brother's previously asked question. "I was just giving her the details."

"Hi, Dean," Lynn put in. "Nice to see you too."

He smirked at her. "Yeah. Running into you two again… it's a real treat."

"So, you offered to help them?" Jayne asked her stepsister in a rather dangerous tone of voice.

Lynn flinched under Jayne's death stare. "Yes, I did," she retorted. The instinctive flinch did _not_ mean she was going to back down. "What's wrong with that? You wanted a hunt, remember?"

Jayne pursed her lips. Lynn knew her stepsister was angry – but at least she hadn't given away their real purpose for showing up in Pennsylvania. That was one thing Jayne couldn't holler at her about. "Yes, I _was_ looking for a hunt," Jayne agreed tightly. "Lynn, can I speak to you in private?"

"That's a good idea," Dean spoke up. "Sam? A word?"

Both Sam and Lynn looked ready to protest, but Dean and Jayne dragged them off before they could say a word. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jayne hissed at her stepsister as she cornered her nearby the service desk.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Well, let's see. I just finished chatting up the pimply college drop-out behind the desk, and I've got squat to show for it. And I'm going to assume your search of the parking lot turned up similar results."

Jayne's petulant silence made it clear that Lynn was right. She pushed on with, "Now, I'm not really sure what else we can do to look for Stephen. But I _am_ sure that there's a hunt here, and we have a chance to save some innocent people. So let's do it."

Jayne sighed, crossing her arms over her chest stubbornly. "And you don't think it's slightly odd that the Winchesters are here? We've only run into them, oh… _three_ freaking times already!"

"Of course it's odd," Lynn returned without hesitation. "And what better way to get to the bottom of all this than to keep them close?"

Jayne blinked at her stepsister. Lynn smirked triumphantly. As Jayne continued to stare at the young woman in front of her, she began to smirk as well. "You don't mean that," she announced. "You think we can trust them. You're just trying to convince _me_ that this is a good idea."

Lynn shrugged, smiling. "Is it working?"

"No."

Lynn sighed heavily. "Look, I know it's weird. I know it could be dangerous – _they­ _could be dangerous. But honestly, Jayne? I just don't get that vibe from them. I mean, they seem every bit as suspicious of _us_ as we are of them!"

"So what's your explanation for all this then, huh?" Jayne retorted. "What, you think it's just one big happy coincidence? I don't buy it."

"I don't either," Lynn said. "I don't think it's a coincidence. But I don't think the Winchesters are behind this. You know, whatever 'this' is."

Jayne glowered at her stepsister some more. "Come on, Jayne, let's do this. Let's help them," Lynn half begged. "Consider it… paying reparations for making me expose my… _assets…_ to the weirdo behind the desk. Something I did for _you_, out of the goodness of my heart, even though I dislike being objectified."

Her stepsister snorted, unimpressed. Finally, she rolled her eyes in apparent acquiesance. "All right, fine," she announced. "We'll do this. But only because _this_ way, we can keep an eye on them."

Lynn rolled her eyes back. "Whatever."

Meanwhile, next to a rather large potted plant, Dean was berating his little brother in much the same way that Jayne had been yelling at Lynn. "Are you nuts?" he exclaimed. "You actually asked for their help? What the hell's the matter with you, Sam?"

"Well, we can always use the extra hands," Sam said mildly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "We don't need help, Sam. We know how to do this job. There's nothing they can bring to the table that we haven't already got."

"Well, sorry, Dean, I didn't realize joining forces with other people on hunts was so damaging to your ego," Sam retorted. "Would you please _not_ do the macho thing right now? I know we can do this on our own. But maybe we can do it faster with Jayne and Lynn."

"Are you kidding me, man?" Dean snapped. "Faster? Hell, we'll be lucky if they let us solve this thing at all! We can't trust them, Sam! We don't know where the hell they came from, who the hell they are, or what the hell they're doing here! But we _do_ know they keep showing up everywhere we go! And I'm sorry, but in my book that makes them evil!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "They're not evil, Dean."

"Really? You got proof?"

His younger brother sighed, shaking his head. But he didn't make eye contact with Dean, and that was all the elder Winchester needed.

"You don't," he pushed on. "You've got nothing."

"You're right," Sam agreed. "You think I don't know that this is weird? Suspicious? I do. I get it. But I don't know, Dean… I mean, trust me. Dad disappearing, Jessica dying, and now this? It feels wrong, I know. Off, somehow. But Jayne and Lynn don't. All right? The situation feels wrong, but they don't. I just… you didn't see the look on Lynn's face when I ran into her. She was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her."

"Yeah, surprised she got caught."

"Dean…"

He sighed, and gave Sam a hard look. "You believe her, don't you? You think she's telling the truth. That she didn't expect to find us here anymore than we expected to find her and her stepsister."

"Yeah," Sam said. "I do."

"Right. I think she's hot, too."

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean smirked. "Dean, that's not what this is about."

"I'm sure it's about that a little."

"No, it's not."

"Oh, come on, Sam, the girl's built like Kim Kardashian."

Sam gave his brother a dirty look. "Dean, I'm not going to say Lynn's ugly. That would be a lie. But that's the last thing on my mind right now. I mean, Dean…" his voice broke, and he looked down at the floor. "It hasn't even been two months since Jess…"

"All right, I know," Dean interrupted. His little brother looked like he was on the verge of tears, and the last thing Dean wanted to see was Sam breaking down in the middle of a crowded airport. "I'm sorry, all right? I'll stop being an ass."

Sam nodded, blinking. Dean sighed heavily. "Ok, fine, Sam. You want to work with Lynn and Jayne? We'll work with Lynn and Jayne."

Sam smiled slightly. "Good."

Their decision made, the brothers walked away from the plant and approached the other two hunters. It appeared that their argument was at an end as well.

"So," Lynn announced once the Winchesters returned, trying to smile brightly. "It seems that we're both willing to join forces with you boys."

Jayne snorted from where she stood off to the side. "Willing. Right."

Lynn ignored her stepsister. "Sound good?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, smiling back. "Sounds great. We're glad for the help."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Sammy," Dean interjected.

Sam rolled his eyes. Lynn smirked at him. "So… what's first?"

"Well, we got some people to interview, and some wreckage to look through," Dean announced. "So I guess what I'm saying is… where's the nearest Kinko's?"

* * *


	8. Different Hunting Partners

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to wurd-god, TheWinchesterAngel, Strangler000, Britishgl, and Nelle07 for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 8: Different Hunting Partners

Jayne sat in the driver's seat of her Nissan, drumming her hands rather nervously on the steering wheel. She was sitting outside of the local Copy Jack, waiting impatiently for Dean Winchester to emerge from the shop. Normally, the sound of Janis Joplin crooning out her speakers would be soothing, but today she hardly noticed the music filling the cab of her pickup.

She was beyond furious at her stepsister. Lynn knew how important it was that they find Stephen. Hell, it was Lynn who always seemed so worried about him. Not that Jayne wasn't worried about him, of course – she was actually worried as hell – but it was Lynn who was always staring hungrily at the laptop screen, tracking the Superbird across the country, and blinking back a constant stream of tears. Of course, finding Stephen was becoming increasingly more difficult everyday. No matter what they did or what the tracking system told them, there was never any sign of Stephen when they showed up in the towns he was supposed to be in.

So she supposed she couldn't blame Lynn for grabbing at the chance for a hunt. Jayne was itching for one too. The hunt always took her mind off things. It was an outlet for all the frustration and worry in her life – perhaps not a very healthy outlet, but an outlet all the same.

However, accepting a hunt alongside the Winchester brothers was probably the stupidest way to go about hunting. She didn't care what Lynn said: they had no reason to trust Sam and Dean. In fact, they had every reason not to. The boys kept turning up wherever they went, and as far as Jayne was concerned, that spelled trouble. It only made things worse that they kept turning up where Stephen was supposed to, while Stephen never showed his face. How could she be sure they hadn't done something to her little brother? It was feasible, wasn't it?

To top it all off, Lynn had insisted on staying at the motel with Sam to run an EBP check on the cockpit voice recorder, while Sam leafed through the passenger information this Jerry Pinowski guy had given him and made some phone calls. This, of course, meant that Jayne had been given the ever so delightful task of accompanying Dean to the copy store to make fake IDs. It wasn't that Jayne liked Sam better than Dean, or that she hated Dean's guts, or anything like that. But she sensed the argument in the airport was only the beginning of her growing dislike for him, and their situation only fueled her growing distrust. Now, whenever she saw him, she thought of his arrogant attitude outside the public restroom, and her nagging suspicion that the Winchesters had something to do with Stephen's disappearance.

Lynn kept insisting that they give the Winchesters a chance. Well, Jayne wasn't biting the line. As far as she was concerned, Lynn's supposed 'women's intuition' didn't have a damn thing to do with her readiness to like the boys. Judging by her demands to stay with Sam while Jayne and Dean went off together, Jayne was certain that her stepsister had a mild crush on the younger Winchester boy. It was hormones, not intuition.

Finally, Dean made his way out of the copy shop and slid into the cab of the pickup truck. "What the hell took you so long?" she snapped, still edgy. "You've been in there for an eternity."

He smirked at her. "Can't rush perfection," he announced, handing her one of the four cards in his hand.

She stared down at it. It was her picture, but now her name was… "Gertrude Wildenheimer?"

He smirked again, shrugging. "Sorry. You just… look like a Gertrude."

"You look like an ass," she retorted. Her gaze returned to the photo ID in her hand. "So, Homeland Security, huh?"

"Yep."

"Are you an idiot?" she asked him, the edginess back in her voice. "Do you have any idea how much shit we'll be in if we get caught impersonating Homeland Security officials? I mean, police officers and FBI is one thing, but Homeland Security…?"

"What's the matter, Goldilocks?" he smirked, for the third time. "Afraid to live life in the fast lane?"

Jayne couldn't understand him at all. When she'd first met him, he'd been tolerable. The second time she'd met him, he'd still been tolerable – maybe slightly irritating when he tried. But now he was completely, one hundred percent, effortlessly infuriating. Did the boy have any other settings? Like mute, maybe?

"Goldilocks?" she repeated, staring at him incredulously.

"Yeah, Goldilocks," he said. "That's what I'm going to call you from now on. Goldie for short."

"Goldie?" Jayne's incredulous look never left her face. "Like a goldfish?"

He shrugged. "Sure, if that's how you want to look at it."

"I should kick you out of my truck," she announced. "I should kick you out, right now, and make you _walk_ back to the motel."

"Yeah, but you won't."

"And why wouldn't I?"

"Because I'm adorable."

"No, actually, you're retarded."

Suddenly, their squabble was interrupted by the first strains of Deep Purple's "Smoke on the Water." Jayne frowned, confused, until Dean answered his cell phone.

"Hello? Yeah, hey Sam. Yeah, I just got out of the copy shop… you want me to talk to who? Max Jaffey? Why… a survivor? What makes you so sure he saw anything…? Oh, really? Well, that's a flashing red light right there. Ok, sure, we'll check it out. Yeah, man, see you."

Dean hung up his phone. "We're going to the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital," he announced.

"Really?" she returned. "Why? Finally decided to do everyone else a favor and have your ass committed?"

"That's not funny," he retorted.

She shrugged. "Made me laugh."

"We're going to the psych hospital to interview a Max Jaffey," Dean said. "He was one of the survivors on Flight 2485. After the crash, he checked himself into the hospital. I don't know about you, but I think there's a good chance that guy saw something that made him think he was losing his mind."

"Or he was traumatized by a plane crash," Jayne replied.

"Yeah, well," Dean shrugged. "If ifs and buts were candy and nuts, then we'd all have a happy birthday."

"Are you serious?" she asked incredulously. "Why would you even say that? That was totally lame. _You're _totally lame."

"I'm lame?"

"You bet your ass you're lame."

"Oh yeah? You think so? Well…." Dean trailed off, screwing up his face in thought. Finally, grinning triumphantly, he announced, "Your truck smells like cats!"

Jayne turned slowly in her seat, her face contorted into what could only be described as a death glare. Dean swallowed and tried to grin. He sure as hell hoped the force wasn't strong in this one.

"Never," she said, slowly and deadly. "Never insult Janis."

"You named your truck Janis?"

"Yes," she said, still slowly and deadly. "And no one ever gets to insult her and live, do you understand me?"

He tried to smirk, and nodded. "Right. Sorry. She's… a magnificent machine."

"Damn straight," Jayne retorted. Then she turned away from him, shifted out of park, and hit the gas.

* * *

Sam hung up his cell phone and shifted uncomfortably in the hard hotel chair, rustling the papers he held in his hands. Jerry Pinowski had been better than good on his word, and now Sam found himself sorting through the passenger manifests and the list of survivors that Jerry had given him. He had just learned something very interesting concerning one of the local survivors, and had quickly passed it on to Dean.

He glanced up and across the motel room he was sharing with his brother. His brother, however, was not seated on one of the beds on the other side of the room. Lynn Juarez was.

She was bent intently over her laptop, headphones jammed in her ears, and working furiously on the recording Jerry had given Sam and Dean. As soon as they had entered the motel room, she had demanded he hand it over so she could run a check on it for EBP. He was so surprised to see her demeanor change that quickly to pushy and demanding that he'd simply given it to her. Lynn was like a faucet – she could turn hot or cold at the twist of a knob. One minute she was friendly, open, funny – a cute girl with a great personality. The next minute she was pushy, in your face, and determined to have her way. There was no question about it. Lynn Juarez was a puzzle.

The information he'd just gotten about Max Jaffey seemed like something she ought to know. Despite this, Sam wasn't sure he wanted to tell her. She seemed so focused on her work that he was actually a little afraid she'd bite his hand off if he disturbed her.

So instead of tapping her on the shoulder and telling her the news, he just sat there a moment and stared at his companion. What he had told Dean in the airport had been true. He didn't believe that either Lynn _or_ her stepsister were evil. But that didn't mean he thought their reoccurring meetings were coincidental. Far from it.

He continued to stare at the young woman before him. It was clear to him that she was keeping something from him. They both were. Lynn and Jayne had a secret of some sort, that was for sure, and they certainly weren't in a hurry to share it. He couldn't really fault them for that - it wasn't like he and Dean were being entirely upfront and honest about their lives either. But whatever the stepsisters' secret was, he doubted it was an explanation for why the two of them kept showing up wherever he and Dean did. No, when it came to that piece of the mystery, he was certain they were just as in the dark about it as he and his brother were.

But that didn't mean that their secret wasn't connected to these strange circumstances, either. Hell, he was willing to bet that it was connected. He just wished he could figure out what that secret was.

Sam continued watching Lynn. It slowly began to dawn on him how right Dean had been about her. She actually was really attractive. Lynn may have been on the short side, but she had extremely round hips and very large… breasts. He swallowed. This was entirely inappropriate, now that he thought about it. He should _not_ be thinking these sorts of things right now. Damn it anyhow, Dean. Why did his stupid older brother have to bring Lynn's looks to his attention?

He tried to return to his papers. However, he soon found his eyes drifting back over to Lynn. It wasn't just her body that was attractive. There was real beauty in her face. She was clearly Hispanic. Her skin was very tan. Her wavy, raven-colored hair wasn't in its normal ponytail, and it looked really good framing her face and dusting her shoulders. Her big brown eyes were very pretty – and very intense. And her lips… those big, full, plump, juicy lips….

Lynn looked up and made eye contact. Embarrassed, Sam quickly glanced away, and then mentally cursed at himself for being both so obvious and so awkward. Lynn removed her headphones, and announced, "There is definitely EBP on this."

Sam looked back over at her, although he did his best to direct his eyes to the laptop and not the pretty young woman. What the hell was he thinking anyway? This was not the sort of behavior someone in his situation was supposed to exhibit. "Yeah?" he asked, trying to keep his mind on the investigation. "Let's hear it."

He made his way across the room, sitting on the bed across from her, and still trying to avoid her eyes. If Lynn noticed, she had enough tact to pretend she didn't. "Here," she said. "Listen up."

She hit the play button. Sam listened to the static and the muffled sound of the pilot's voice. Then he heard that whiny, raspy noise he'd heard in Jerry Pinowski's office. Except this time, the voice spoke in words he could understand.

"No survivors," it hissed into the motel room.

Lynn swallowed and winced like she'd heard nails on a chalkboard, putting the laptop down on the bed beside her and hitting the stop button. "Creepy as hell," she commented, clearly a little freaked out.

"Yeah," Sam murmured. "No survivors? That's weird."

"I know, right?" Lynn replied. "Whatever that thing was, it certainly didn't finish the job. How many survivors did you say there were? Eight?"

"Seven," he corrected her.

"Seven survivors," she whispered, giving her laptop an unsettled eye. "What do you think it means?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. But I just sent Dean and Jayne to interview one of the survivors. His name is Max Jaffey. Maybe he can shed some light on the situation."

"Yeah?" Lynn asked. "What makes you think he'll be any help?"

"Because I spoke to his mother," Sam returned. "And she told me where to find him."

"Which was where?"

"The Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital."

* * *

"I don't understand," Max Jaffey said, limping through the gardens of Riverfront Hospital with his cane. "I already spoke to Homeland Security."

"Right," Dean Winchester said from his place on the young man's left side. "But some new information has come up, so if you could just answer a couple questions."

"Right before the plane went down," Jayne cut in smoothly. "Did you see or hear anything strange? Weird noises, maybe? Flashing lights? Anything like that?"

Max Jaffey shook his head, limping towards a patio table and chairs. "No, nothing."

The three of them sat down around the table. "Hmm," Dean said, clearly not believing a word that came out of the plane crash survivor's mouth. "Mr. Jeffey…"

"Jaffey," the other man corrected him, sounding irritated.

"Jaffey. You checked yourself in here, right?"

Max nodded.

"Can I ask why?"

Max Jaffey looked at Dean like he was an idiot. "I was a little stressed. I survived a plane crash."

"Mm-hmm. And that's what terrified you? That's what you were so afraid of?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"See, I think maybe you did see something up there," Dean pushed on. "We need to know what."

Jaffey shook his head. "No. No, I was delusional. Seeing things."

Dean snorted. "He was seeing things," he smirked, clearly disgusted with the man he was interviewing.

Jayne, who had been relatively quiet up to this point, swooped in. "Mr. Jaffey," she announced with a rather authoritative tone. "We understand you're upset. We understand that the trauma of a plane crash can mess with your mind. Make you think you saw things that weren't there. But no matter how fragmented and unlikely your story may seem to you, believe me when I say that we at Homeland Security can piece it together in a way that makes more sense. Your so-called delusions may lead to ground-breaking discovery. So I am going to have to insist you share your story with us. Whatever it is you thought you saw, please just fill us in."

He blinked at her. "You'll just think I'm crazy."

"Mr. Jaffey, sir, we are sitting with you on the grounds of a psychiatric ward," Jayne replied without missing a beat. "That ship has sailed."

He stared at her for a moment. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No, sir, Mr. Jaffey," Jayne returned without even the slightest trace of a smile. "We at Homeland Security do not have a sense of humor that we are aware."

He blinked again, frowned, and then shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "There… there was this… man," Jaffey began rather hesitantly. "And… he had these eyes, these black eyes… and I saw him… or, I thought I saw him…"

Jaffey trailed off. "What?" Dean prompted him.

"He opened the emergency exit," Jaffey said finally. "But that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door."

Dean's face reflected thoughtfulness. "Yeah," he murmured.

"And what did this man look like, Mr. Jaffey?" Jayne asked, her voice still authoritative. "Other than the black eyes?"

"You _are_ making fun of me," Jaffey concluded. "I knew you'd think I was nuts."

"What you saw is entirely possible under certain circumstances, Mr. Jaffey," Jayne replied. "I need a description of the man."

"I don't know… he was… middle aged, had thinning gray hair… look, everything happened so fast. I didn't really get a good look at him. The only thing I can tell you that might help you out is that he was a passenger sitting in the seat in front of me."

The two fell quiet, and exchanged looks over the table. "Look, I'm tired," Jaffey went on. "Are you finished?"

Dean nodded slowly. "Yes, sir, Mr. Jaffey. You're free to go."

The man got up and began walking back towards the building. Dean raised an eyebrow at Jayne. "We at Homeland Security do not have a sense of humor that we are aware?" he quoted her incredulously.

She shrugged. "What?"

"Ok, Tommy Lee Jones. What, was Men in Black on HBO last night or something?"

"Hey, it worked didn't it?"

"Yeah, barely. You're pretty damn lucky, you know that?"

Jayne snorted and got to her feet. "Whatever. We need to get back to the motel. Get Lynn and Sam up to speed."

"Wait, I'll call them," Dean said, getting out his cell phone. Jayne began walking away anyway, and Dean found himself dialing Sam's number and rushing to keep up with her at the same time.

"Yeah?" Sam answered the phone.

"We interviewed Jaffey," Dean announced. "Said he saw a man open the emergency exit door. A man with black eyes."

"A man? But that's…"

"Impossible? I know. So does Jaffey."

"Well, was it a spirit? Did the image seem to flicker, like a mirage? Anything like that?"

"No, man, he was a passenger. Jaffey said the guy sat in the seat in front of him."

"All right, then. I'll check the manifest, and Lynn and I will try to interview him… or his surviving family."

"That's… grim."

"Tell me about it. Meet us back at the motel."

"You got it. Later, Sam."

"Bye."

* * *

The black Impala pulled up in front of a good-sized, nice looking, two-story house with a manicured lawn and neatly trimmed rosebushes. Sam Winchester shut the ignition off and climbed out of the car. Lynn, who'd been seated in the passenger seat, followed suit. "This the place?" she asked.

"Yep," Sam replied. "This is where George Phelps lived."

"Our mystery strongman," Lynn commented wryly. "I don't know, Sam. This seems far fetched. No one can open an emergency door during flight. It's impossible."

"Impossible for a human, maybe," Sam replied. "But a creature of some kind? Maybe not."

"Right," Lynn returned, raising her eyebrow ironically. "I guess the question we've got to answer now is what kind of creature makes it's lair in well-maintained two-story homes and loves yard work."

Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. "Just come on."

It wasn't long before the two hunters found themselves sitting in the living room of the Phelps house, across from George Phelps' widow. Sam drummed his fingers on his thigh rather nervously, occasionally glancing over to the side to steal glances at Lynn. Every time he found himself doing it, he mentally cursed his brother, and forced himself to look away.

Looking for something to distract him from Lynn's soft wavy black hair, he turned his eyes to the coffee table in front of him and saw a picture of a balding, middle aged man. Picking the photo up off the table, he asked, "Is this your late husband?"

"Yes," the woman said quietly, with a sad smile. "That was my George."

"He was a dentist?" Lynn cut in. Sam glanced over at her, rather put out. He was going to ask that.

She nodded. "He was headed to a convention in Denver." She paused, tears welling up in her eyes. "Did you know he was petrified to fly?" she asked suddenly. "For him to go like that…"

She trailed off. After a moment of silence, Lynn asked gently, "And how long did you say you two were married?"

Again, Sam had meant to ask that question. Lynn was totally taking over this interview and completely stealing his thunder! Pushy, in-your-face Lynn was back full force.

"Thirteen years," she replied.

"Wow," Lynn murmured, smiling sadly. Jesus Christ, Sam thought irritably. Lay the empathy on a little thicker, why don't you? "That's a long time. Impressive, in this day and age."

The woman smiled. "You must have been close," Lynn continued. "You probably knew him better than anyone."

"You might say that."

Sam cut in quickly, determined not to let Lynn steal the show completely. "In all that time," he said as gently as possible. "Did you ever notice anything… strange about him? Anything out of the ordinary?"

The widow thought for a moment. "Well…" she murmured. "He had acid reflux, if that's what you mean."

Sam and Lynn exchanged a look. That, of course, hadn't been what they meant at all.

* * *

"Sorry if I was kind of stepping on your toes back there," Lynn announced as the two of them made their way to the Winchester's motel room. The car ride back to the motel from the Phelps house had been a silent, rather tense one. "I didn't mean to take over like that."

Sam blinked, surprised. "Oh, um…" he stuttered. "No. I didn't think you were… taking over, or anything. You were fine."

"Really?" Lynn pressed. "Because you seemed kind of irritable back at the house. And in the car."

"Nope," Sam insisted, even though he was lying through his teeth. "Wasn't bothered at all."

"Right," Lynn nodded slowly. Sam didn't like the look she was giving him. She didn't seem to buy his story for a moment. "Well, I'm still sorry. I can't really help it. Jayne's always on my case about it. She says I'm too pushy. Overbearing. I just… I don't know. When I go into an investigation, I have a one track mind. I know what I need to find out and what needs to get done, and I don't stop until all the Ts have been crossed, you know what I mean? Anyway, I really am sorry for being so… excessively determined."

Sam couldn't help but be shocked by this speech. Lynn was confusing the crap out of him. One minute she overbearing and taking over the investigation, which had actually made him rather resentful. The next, she was apologizing, and doing so in such a frank, open manner, that he found himself starting to like her even more. It was so rare to hear anyone just lay out their flaws like that, and even rarer to hear them admit those flaws without any shame. There was just something about her openness that Sam was really starting to warm up to.

"You know what?" he announced, giving her a genuine smile. "It's all right, really. You're just good at your job. Who can fault you for that?"

Lynn smiled at him in return. The two of them had reached the motel room now, and Sam quickly unlocked the door. When the two of them entered, they found Dean sprawled out on the bed, watching TV, and Jayne sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, determinedly looking out the window.

"About time," she said dryly as they walked in.

Lynn gave her stepsister a nasty look. "Oh, please. Don't even start."

"What'd you find out?" Dean asked, not looking up from the TV.

Sam frowned, noting the tension in the room. "What happened?"

Both Dean and Jayne looked up, frowning. "Nothing happened," Dean replied.

"Why?" Jayne asked.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know… you guys just seem kind of… tense."

"Yeah, well, I know I am," Dean retorted. "There is just no getting along with this woman, you know that?"

"Oh, right," Lynn tossed back. "And I'm sure you were just as friendly as can be."

"Yeah," Jayne added.

"What are you going on about?" Lynn asked her stepsister. "I'm sure you were every bit as difficult as he was."

Jayne glowered at her stepsister. "All right, moving on," Sam said, choosing to ignore the growing feud between Dean and Jayne. "We went to the Phelps house, and found out that George Phelps was just a normal, married, middle-aged dentist with acid reflux. Not exactly the type who would vamp out and throw open an emergency exit in an airborne plane."

"Great," Dean grumbled, turning off the TV and slamming the remote down on the mattress. "Well, now what? Take a look at the wreckage? See if that tells us anything?"

"Maybe," Sam frowned. "But if we're going to go that route, we better look the part."

"Look the part?" Dean asked. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means we'll have to get suits," Sam replied. "Dress up, look professional. You know, actually look like Homeland Security officials."

"Oh, dude, come on! Lame," Dean exclaimed. "I'm not wearing some freaking monkey suit!"

"I'll do it," Lynn said immediately.

"_You'll_ do it?" Dean returned.

"Yeah. I'll do it," she replied. "I'm not afraid to dress up."

"Great," Sam grinned at Lynn. "Then Lynn and I will go to the NTSB warehouse tomorrow and check out the wreckage. You two can… sit here and hang out."

Jayne snorted. "Yeah, right. No thanks. I'll be in our room."

She stood up and left the motel room, headed for the one she was sharing with her stepsister. Lynn raised an eyebrow at Dean. "You two must really not be getting along."

"Look, _Lynn_," Dean retorted sardonically. "Maybe Sammy over here thinks you and your stepsister are just dandy, but as far as I'm concerned, the jury's still out on that one. This showing up wherever Sam and I go bull shit? Not something I can write off as a coincidence. So I guess what I'm trying to say here is that I don't trust you or Jayne as far as I can throw either one of you."

Dean stood up, grabbed his coat, and stormed out the door. "I'll see you later, Sammy."

Sam and Lynn watched him go. "Uh… sorry," Sam murmured. "My brother, uh… he has trust issues."

"Yeah," Lynn agreed. "Don't worry about it. I know what exactly what you're talking about."

* * *


	9. Phantom Traveler

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to wurd-god for the review! Greatly appreciated. Side note – during this particular episode, Selena Gomez was probably not as big as she is right now. It didn't occur to me until after I wrote the chapter, and I didn't want to change it, so… anyway, I know the timing is kind of wacked. Please just roll with it.

* * *

Chapter 9: Phantom Traveler

Lynn stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, scrutinizing herself. She was dressed in a black skirt and suit jacket, with a crisp white blouse underneath, and had on a pair of extremely tall high heel shoes. "Does this look all right?" she asked her stepsister.

Jayne, who was lounging on one of the motel beds and watching some crap reality TV show, looked up at her sister and raised an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me?" she asked. "You know it looks better than all right."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Jayne said, returning to the TV. "But if I were you, I'd ditch the heels."

"But I like the heels," Lynn returned, facing her stepsister with her hands on her hips. "What's wrong with the heels?"

"Nothing's wrong with the heels," Jayne replied. "They're just not very… practical."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're going to a NTSB warehouse and impersonating a Homeland Security official," Jayne retorted. "So maybe you better wear flats. Those heels look like they'd be hell to run in."

Lynn considered this, and then looked in the mirror again. She pouted. "I like the heels," she said again.

"Only because they make your ass stick out," Jayne retorted. "And trust me, Lynn – there's really no need for that."

Lynn rolled her eyes and slid out of the shoes. "Fine. I'm changing."

As she replaced the high heels with a pair of black flats, there was a knock on the door. "Jayne, will you answer that?" Lynn asked.

"No."

"Jayne!"

"Fine," Jayne grumbled, getting up and walking to the door. Lynn finished putting on her shoes and began twisting her hair up into an elegant bun. When Jayne opened the door, she found Sam Winchester in the hallway, doing his best to straighten his tie.

"Hi," she said shortly, turning from him and retreating to the bed.

Rather self-consciously, Sam entered the room, leaving the door open behind him. "Hey, Sam!" Lynn called, finishing her hair. She turned around and gave him a grin.

Sam blinked at the young woman in front of him. She continued to smile at him. He had to admit, she looked really good. Her tight black skirt hugged her hips in an extremely flattering fashion, and with her hair pulled back from her face, he had a better view of her chocolate brown eyes. They met his dark blue ones, still smiling, although now that smile was becoming inquisitive. "Sam?" she asked.

"Uh…" he stuttered. "You, uh… you look, um… that outfit is very… uh…"

"I believe the word you're searching for, Sam, is booty-licious," Jayne piped up from her place on the bed. She gave him a smirk, and then returned to the TV.

Sam felt a flush creep up his neck. Lynn rolled her eyes. "Jayne," she snapped. "Would you, like, shut the hell up?"

Jayne flicked her stepsister off.

"Nice," Sam said. "I was going to say you looked nice."

Lynn smiled at him. "Thanks. You look nice too. So, uh… are you ready to go?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm just waiting on Dean," he replied. "He's coming with your fake badge and the car keys."

"And here I am," a rather cocky voice sounded from behind Sam. Dean strode into the room, grinning in his usual overly confident way. He gave Lynn a once over and the smile vanished. "Damn," he said.

Lynn raised her eyebrow. "Damn?" she asked.

"Yeah, damn," he agreed. "That is one sexy monkey suit."

Lynn felt a grin forming on her face despite herself. "Right. Well, since I'm sure you thought that was a compliment, thanks."

"Here's your badge," he announced, handing it over.

Lynn frowned down at it. "Selena Gomez?" she asked.

"What?" Dean asked, frowning back at her. "What's wrong with it?"

Lynn stared incredulously at him. "Oh, nothing, except that's the name of a Disney channel star!"

Sam gawked at his brother. "You gave her a badge with a Disney actress's name on it?"

Dean shrugged, getting defensive. "What? Come on, man, I needed a name that sounded Mexican, and that was the first one that popped into my head!"

Lynn's eyes grew dangerous. Jayne snorted from the bed. "Now you've done it," she announced.

"First of all," Lynn snapped. "I am Puerto Rican."

Dean swallowed. "Oh. Um… sorry."

"And second of all," Lynn pushed on, her voice growing more and more deadly as she spoke. "How the hell did you expect me to get into an NTSB warehouse with a badge that says Selena Gomez on it?"

Dean shrugged again. "No one will notice! They won't even look that close."

Lynn scoffed, and turned to the other Winchester. "Is he serious?"

Sam appeared to have other concerns. "Dean, how do you even know who Selena Gomez _is_?"

That was when something hilarious happened. Dean began to squirm and shift under his brother's incredulous stare, trying to force himself to laugh. "I… I don't know, man… I just… she was on the news! They said she was the next Miley Cyrus!"

Sam's incredulous look continued to grow more incredulous. Dean quickly added, "Whoever the hell she is."

"Was this particular news show you were watching called Hollywood Access?" Sam asked.

Dean still looked uncomfortable. "No," he scoffed, not sounding very convincing.

Sam laughed. Dean glared at him.

"Shut up. Oh, and hey. Before you guys go, I wanted to give you this," Dean announced, handing over the most ghetto-looking EMF detector to Sam that the stepsisters had ever seen.

Sam stared at it for a moment, and then asked, "What is this?"

"It's an EMF meter. Reads electro-magnetic frequencies."

"Yeah, I know what an EMF meter is, but why does this one look like a busted up walkman?"

Dean smirked almost triumphantly at his younger brother. "Because that's what I made it out of. It's homemade."

"Yeah, I can see that," Sam returned sarcastically.

Dean's smirk faded, and then he snorted. "Whatever. Here's the keys. Don't mess up my car."

His ego bruised, he turned his back on the other three hunters and walked out the door.

"Um, well… ok, then," Sam said, trying to smile. "You ready?"

"Yeah," Lynn said, smiling back. "Let's go."

"Don't get caught!" Jayne called after Lynn as the two hunters made their way out the motel room door.

Lynn snorted as she closed the door behind her. "Good bye Jayne!"

* * *

As it turned out, getting into the NTSB warehouse was actually fairly easy. They flashed their IDs at the security desk, gave the guards friendly smiles, and then marched real businesslike back into the warehouse to see the wreckage. To Lynn's complete and utter amazement, Dean had been right. They barely looked at her badge. Not one guard noticed that her name was exactly the same as the name of the next Miley Cyrus.

Lynn and Sam were now poking about the wreckage of flight 2485 in total silence. She had never felt so awkward in her life. Sam had Dean's homemade EMF reader out and was walking throughout the wreckage, scanning everything he passed.

She had to say something. Anything at all. Lynn did not function well in silence. It was actually rather frustrating, because her stepsister flourished in silence – which meant that Lynn spent a lot of time trying to make her talk, and Jayne spent a lot of time refusing to talk.

But that was beside the point. She wasn't with Jayne right now, she was with Sam Winchester. The incredibly tall, good-looking, Bambi-like Sam Winchester. And she had to say something.

"Find anything yet?" she asked.

Sam looked up at her, mildly startled. "Um… no," he replied rather ruefully. "So far, the plane's clean."

Lynn sighed. "Fantastic. Am I the only one starting to feel like this case is impossible?"

Sam chuckled slightly. "I'm definitely with you on that."

She smiled at him. He smiled back, and then returned his attention to the busted up walkman in his hands – aka, the EMF reader.

Lynn glanced over at the emergency door, which was lying in a mangled heap on the ground. "Hey," she said. "Maybe we should scan that thing. After all, it was the source of the crash."

Sam followed her eyes. "Yeah, all right," he agreed. "That might be a good idea."

"Might?" Lynn asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam started, and looked down at her in surprise. There was a good-humored expression on her face, but he could see the challenge in her dark eyes clear as day.

Wow, could she really turn it on and off.

"Ok," he remedied, not really looking for a showdown at the moment. "It would be a really good idea."

"Now you're just trying to pacify me," Lynn replied.

Sam stared at her. Talk about maddening. She was smiling at him like it was all a joke, but there was a tension in her shoulders and a disturbance in her eyes that made it loud and clear that he was treading on thin ice.

"Ok, then," he said, attempting to shrug it off. "Let's just go look, all right?"

He walked past her and made a beeline for the emergency door. Lynn followed close at his heels. Sam wasn't entirely surprised when the EMF reader started buzzing off the charts as it passed over the door handle.

"Good call," he said to Lynn.

"Thanks," she grinned at him. Then she frowned down at the handle. "What's this stuff?"

She bent over the handle, picking at a powdery yellow substance caked on the door handle. Sam bent over too, staring intently at the substance as well. Lynn scraped at it with a long manicured fingernail. The substance flaked off into her outstretched palm. Frowning down at it, Lynn gave it a cautious sniff.

"What do you think it is?" Sam asked.

"Sulfur," she replied without hesitation.

Sam blinked, surprised. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Pretty sure. I mean, I'm not one hundred percent, but… it's got the smell and the appearance of it."

He didn't mean to look doubtful, but he did. Mainly because Sam didn't want the strange yellow substance to be sulfur. He knew exactly what sulfuric residue meant – and it meant big time trouble when it came to this hunt. "How do you know?" he asked.

As soon as he asked, he winced with regret. He full on expected Lynn to turn around and snap at him the way she had snapped at Dean in the motel room. But she didn't. Instead, she merely shrugged and said, "I was always pretty good in chem class. Besides, the smell of sulfur? Hard to mistake."

Sam liked Lynn, he really did. Sometimes. But he didn't like walking on eggshells. At least this time, she hadn't overreacted. The tension leaving his shoulders, he sighed and said, "Well, there's only one way to be sure."

"What's that?"

"We'll take this stuff to Jerry Pinowski," Sam replied, pulling a plastic bag of his jacket pocket. Lynn carefully dumped the contents of her palm into the bag. "He's got a microscope and stuff. He'll probably be able to tell."

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"We better get out of here fast, though," Sam went on. "I'm starting to worry someone's going to catch on to the fact that we're not really from Homeland Security."

Lynn nodded her agreement, and the two of them hurried towards the back of the warehouse, sneaking through the rear exit. They shuffled furtively along the back of the building and rounded the corner cautiously. As they neared the security gate, a loud alarm bell went off, undoubtedly to alert the staff that two idiots impersonating Homeland Security officials were on the loose in the airport. Panicked, Lynn and Sam raced for the gate.

Sam took a running leap, landing half way up the gate, and then heaved himself over the top, hitting the ground on the other side where he miraculously managed to stay on his feet. He glanced behind him, suddenly concerned about Lynn. She was, after all, much shorter than he was, and he began to worry that she wouldn't make it over the gate.

His worries, he soon discovered, were unfounded. Lynn also took a running leap, and, while she hit the fence lower than Sam had, didn't have any trouble scrambling quickly up over the top and dropping down on the other side beside him. Sam was mildly impressed.

"Good thing I didn't wear my heels," she announced, giving him a smirk.

He stared at her, a rather goofy grin crossing his face. Lynn turned and raced away. Sam stood there stupidly for a moment before he remembered that he was trying to outrun airport security. Hastily, he chased after her.

All they had to do now, assuming they managed to escape security, was head over to Jerry's offices and have that yellow powder analyzed. Then they would know whether or not Lynn was right in thinking that the substance was sulfur… and whether or not they had a whole lot of bad coming their way.

* * *

"Huh," Jerry announced, peering into his microscope. "This stuff is covered in sulfur."

That had been exactly what Sam hadn't wanted to hear. "Are you sure?" he asked, hoping against hope it wasn't true.

"Take a look for yourself," Jerry replied. A loud banging sound was heard outside the office, followed by the yelling of an employee. "Now, if you two will excuse me," Jerry continued, walking towards the door. "I have an idiot to fire."

Jerry walked out of the office. "Hey!" they heard him shout. "Einstein!"

Sam turned to Lynn. "Looks like you were right," he murmured. He didn't sound happy about it.

Which was understandable, Lynn thought to herself, because she wasn't feeling all that happy about it herself. She knew what sulfur meant. "Well, I guess it's pretty obvious what we're dealing with here," she said slowly. "Sulfuric residue usually points to demonic possession. So I suppose that means our unusually strong dentist friend had a lot more than stomach acid bubbling around inside of him."

Sam sighed. "Well, it does explains how Phelps was able to open that emergency hatch."

They were silent for a moment. "You know, I've heard of demons using people to do a lot of crazy shit in my day," Lynn announced. "But this…?"

"Using George Phelps to take down an entire airplane full of people?" Sam returned. "I know. Have you ever heard of something like this?"

Lynn shook her head. "Nothing comes to mind."

He sighed a second time. "Well, let's get back to the motel. Tell Dean and Jayne what we found out."

"Right," she agreed.

Sam certainly hoped that Dean had run into this at some point during his hunts with their father. Because, put frankly, this was something he hadn't quite expected… and to be honest, it was really freaking him out.

* * *

"Demons?" Dean asked incredulously, watching his brother wrestle his tie off.

"Yeah, demons," Sam replied. "Lynn went to get Jayne and to change her clothes. They're coming over in a few minutes to help us research."

"I don't get it," Dean said, shaking his head. "I mean, this goes way beyond floating over a bed and barfing pea soup. We're dealing with a demon that possesses people in order to cause plane crashes? It doesn't make sense."

"So you haven't heard of anything like this before?"

"Never."

Sam sighed, disappearing into the bathroom. A couple minutes later, he came back out in jeans and a tee shirt. He sat down at the table and began booting up his laptop.

A knock sounded on the door. Sam gave Dean a pointed look, and his brother, although appearing surly, went to answer it.

Lynn was standing in the doorway, her laptop in her hands. Behind her, looking equally as surly as Dean was her stepsister Jayne, clutching an armload of books.

"We brought research," Lynn chirped.

"Fantastic," Dean sneered. "I'm all atwitter."

Lynn rolled her eyes at the elder Winchester and bushed past him into the motel room. Jayne gave him a glare, and he took a step back, allowing her to pass through the door. Lynn sat her laptop down on the table across from Sam, and started barking orders.

"All right, Jayne, put those books on the bed over there. You and Dean can sort through them while Sam and I search the Net. Sound good?"

"Whatever you say, boss," Jayne grumbled, dumping the books on Dean's bed.

"Hey!" he exclaimed indignantly. "That's _my_ bed!"

"Sorry," Jayne replied, clearly not meaning it. She snatched up a book and took a seat on Sam's bed, leaning up against the headboard. Dean continued to glare at her. She looked far too comfortable there – which was extremely exasperating, seeing as he no longer had a bed to rest his head.

She ignored his glare and flipped open the book in her hands, concentrating on the text in front of her. It was clear to everyone else in the room that they no longer existed.

Lynn rolled her eyes at her stepsister. She knew how Jayne felt about all this. She was worried about Stephen, she was suspicious of the boys, and she was uncomfortable sitting around with two guys that might as well be strangers – rather infuriating strangers, as Lynn was sure she saw them. Jayne hid it well with her tough talk and her sarcastic comments, but she was actually sort of shy, and half the time her perceived bitchiness was actually just a result of her reserve. This, of course, was something Lynn never dared bring up in her presence. Jayne wasn't exactly friendly or talkative in the presence of other people, but she had no problem telling her stepsister where to shove it.

"Well, ok then," Lynn announced, forcing cheeriness into her voice. "Let's do this, shall we?"

This earned her a sneer from Dean, a glare from Jayne, and a sympathetic smile from Sam. Lynn sighed, and turned to her laptop. This was going to be one seriously long afternoon.

* * *

"So every religion in every world culture has the concept of demons and demonic possession, right?" Sam spoke suddenly into the room. "Judeo-Christian, Native American, Hindu, you name it."

"Yeah, but none of them mention anything like this," Dean returned from his spot on the end of his book cluttered bed.

"Well, that's not exactly true," Sam replied. "You see, according to Japanese beliefs, certain demons are behind certain disasters, both natural and manmade. One demon causes earthquakes, another disease…"

"And this one causes plane crashes?" Dean interrupted.

Sam shrugged.

"I don't see why not," Lynn spoke up from her seat at the table. "I mean, demons manifest themselves in many different forms. And all of them seem to have the same common goal: chaos. It sort of makes sense."

"What, so we have a demon that's evolved with the times and found a way to ratchet up the body count?" Dean asked.

Lynn shrugged. "Looks like."

"And that's not the half of it," Sam added. "I mean, who knows how many planes it's brought down before this."

Jayne slammed her book shut with a heavy thud. "Great, so now that that's all cleared up," she grumbled. "What's next? Think we can find a way to track it? I mean, we've to exorcise it somehow. Send that bastard back to Hell."

"Well…" Lynn murmured. "I've got a theory. You see…"

Dean's cell rang quite suddenly, cutting Lynn's speech short. Dean answered quickly with a "Hello?"

"Dean, it's Jerry."

There was a curt, yet somber note to his voice. Dean knew immediately that something was up. "Oh, hey, Jerry."

The other three hunters in the room looked up with interest. "My pilot friend," Dean heard Jerry say into the phone. "Chuck Lambert is dead."

Oh, crap. This couldn't be good. "Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?"

"He and his buddy went up in a small twin about an hour ago. Plane went down."

"Where'd this happen?"

"About sixty miles west of here. Near Nazareth."

"Well, I'll try to ignore the irony in that."

"I'm sorry?"

Dean quickly backtracked, suddenly realizing that his snarky comment wasn't appropriate given the situation. "Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon."

Saying his goodbyes, Dean hung up with Jerry and looked at Sam, Lynn, and Jayne, who were staring at him expectantly. "Another crash?" Sam asked.

"Yep," Dean returned. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"Nazareth."

* * *

Sam sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, eyeing his brother nervously. There was something strange in the way Dean held himself as he steered down the road, heading away from Nazareth. Behind them, Jayne and Lynn were following in their gray pickup. And nestled comfortably in Sam's pocket was a small little baggie full of yellow powder found at the site of the latest plane crash – a powder that was undoubtedly sulfur.

"You all right?" Sam asked Dean.

His brother let out a sigh and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Yeah, fine."

"Bull," Sam replied. "You're acting all twitchy. What's up?"

Dean sighed again, glanced over at Sam briefly, and then chuckled slightly, although the chuckle was without mirth. "I don't know, man, I mean… this isn't our usual gig. Demons… they don't want anything, just death and destruction for its own sake."

He paused. Sam didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. Instead, he sat patiently, staring at his older brother, and waiting for Dean to continue.

"I mean, this is big," Dean went on. "And I… I wish Dad was here."

Sam nodded. He'd been thinking something similar. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "Me too."

They were silent as they continued their drive back to Catani, Pennsylvania. The airport where Jerry worked was getting closer now. "Everything's changing," Sam said suddenly. "This… this all feels so weird."

Dean nodded. "I know."

"Dad's gone… and… well, hell, Dean, you've got to be thinking it too. The man disappeared right when we needed him the most!"

To his surprise, Dean didn't try to defend John Winchester. "I wish we could find him," was all he said.

Sam sighed. "I wish I understood what was happening."

Dean nodded again. The nod almost made Sam laugh. If only Dean knew how little he truly understood… and exactly how much was happening. Sam wasn't sure if he could take one more sleepless night of nightmares and worry and... Shit. He really needed to think about something else.

By now they had reached the airport, and Dean was parking the Impala outside of Jerry's offices. Jayne pulled her truck into a space beside them. The four of them clambered out of their vehicles, met up without saying a word, and marched inside.

Jerry wasn't surprised to see them. They said hurried hellos and then rushed inside his office, handing over the baggie of yellow powder. He poured the powder out onto a slide and slid it under the microscope.

"Sulfur?" Dean asked after a few moments.

Jerry looked up somberly and nodded.

"Well," Dean said sarcastically. "That's great."

He turned around to face the other three people in the room. Sam was seated behind the desk in front of the computer, and Lynn was leaning against the small table behind him. Jayne had her arms crossed and was standing beside the desk, not really looking at anyone or anything. "All right," he announced. "So that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him."

"With all due respect to Chuck," Sam returned. "If that's the case, then that would be the good news."

"What's the bad news?"

"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight," Sam replied. "And get this: So did Flight 2485."

"Forty minutes? What does that mean?" Jerry asked.

"It's biblical numerology," Dean explained. "You know, Noah's Ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death."

"Exactly," Lynn put in. "So Sam and I went back over the flight records for the past decade, and it turns out that there have been six other flights over these past ten years that went down exactly forty minutes into flight."

"Any survivors?" Dean wanted to know.

"No," Sam replied. "Well, not until now, at least. Not until flight 2485, for some reason. It's just like the EBP Lynn found on the cockpit voice recorder. Remember?"

"No survivors," Lynn whispered, shaking her head. "Which leads me to my theory…."

"It's going after all the survivors!" Dean interrupted, as though a light bulb had suddenly clicked on over his head. "It's trying to finish the job."

Lynn pursed her lips, obviously disgruntled. "Yeah. Exactly," she returned tightly.

"Awesome," Jayne put in, also sounding less than happy. "So, any ideas? What do we do now?"

"We go back over the list of survivors," Lynn replied. "Find out if anyone's planning to fly again."

Sam sighed heavily. "Sounds like I'm going to have to make up a fake phone survey. I really hate doing that."

"What if someone's planning to fly?" Jerry asked.

"Then we stop them," Dean replied.

Jayne snorted. "Well," she said. "That sounds like a regular walk in the park."

* * *


	10. Flight 424

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to wurd-god, winchesterxgirl, and guardian music angel for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 10: Flight 424

"Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, and if you _do_ plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks."

Sam Winchester hung up his cell phone and looked over at his brother, who was driving his Chevy furiously down the road. "All right, that takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon."

"So our only wild card is the flight attendant, Amanda Walker," Dean replied.

"Right," Sam agreed. "Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at 8 pm. It's her first night back on the job."

"Well that sounds like just our luck," Dean sighed.

Both Jayne and Lynn sat in the backseat of the Impala, listening intently to the conversation the brothers were having up front. Lynn glanced worriedly over at her stepsister. Jayne shrugged. It was clear from the way the two boys interacted that they were a team – and that Jayne and Lynn were as much a part of that team as a pile of old luggage.

Lynn, however, was not about to just sit by and watch as the Winchesters figured everything out themselves. Maybe being left out of the group was all right with Jayne, but Lynn would not be treated as a useless inanimate object. Determined, she attempted to push her way into the conversation. "Indianapolis?" she asked. "How far are we from there?"

Sam shook his head, looking discouraged. "It's a five hour drive. We'll never make it in time."

Dean cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to call attention to himself. "Even with you behind the wheel," Sam returned.

"Why don't you call Amanda's cell phone again? See if we can head her off at the pass," Dean suggested.

"I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her phone off," Sam replied, sounding rather panicky by this point. He sighed heavily, checking his watch. "God, we're never going to make it."

"Oh we'll make it," Dean retorted, stepping down hard on the gas. The Impala tore off down the highway at speeds even Jayne wouldn't dare attempt – at least, not in her ratty old pickup.

"Holy shit, what are you doing?" Lynn exclaimed from the backseat.

"Driving to Indianapolis!" Dean snapped. "What does it look like?"

Lynn huffed. "Well, do you have to drive like some sort of deranged person?"

He smirked at her in the rearview mirror. "Hold on, sweetheart. It's only going to get worse from here."

Lynn turned to her stepsister with wide eyes. "Can you believe this?" she asked.

Jayne shrugged, clearly not as upset about Dean's driving as Lynn was. "At least we'll make good time," was all she said.

Lynn rolled her eyes rather theatrically and crossed her arms across her chest, turning to stare petulantly out the window. "We'll make good time, all right," she announced rather snottily. "Of course, it won't make much difference if we all die in a flaming car crash!"

No one paid her complaints any mind. Dean continued driving at the same speed, and all four people in the car hoped against hope that they would make it to Indianapolis in time.

* * *

The Impala tore around the corner, tires squealing, and sped across the airport parking lot to the nearest available space. Dean swung the car around violently and barely managed to park within the yellow lines. The Impala screeched to a stop, and Dean shut off the ignition.

"Oh my God," Lynn gasped. She turned to Jayne, her hand over her chest. "That man drives worse than you do!"

Jayne gave her stepsister a winning smile. "Brings about a whole new level of appreciation for me, doesn't it?"

Lynn rolled her eyes and threw open her car door, getting out of the vehicle as quickly as possible. The door shut with a slam behind her.

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed, climbing out as well. "No slamming my doors!"

Lynn ignored him and high-tailed it for the airport. Sam tore after her. Jayne and Dean quickly followed.

The four of them rushed inside the airport, stopping only to read the flight announcement board. "Right there," Sam announced breathlessly, pointing at the board. "They're boarding in thirty minutes."

"Ok," Dean said. "We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone."

The two brothers shoved their way through the throng. Lynn looked over at her stepsister, who merely shrugged. Rolling her eyes, Lynn pushed after the boys, Jayne following behind her. "What are you doing?" she demanded. If there was one thing Lynn hated, it was being left out of the loop. "Why do you need a phone?"

Both Sam and Dean ignored her, much to Lynn's annoyance. They had found a courtesy phone in the lobby and Dean picked it up. "Gate 13," he said into the phone. "I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on Flight… Flight 424."

Lynn gave Sam a questioning look. Sam shrugged, wearing a bemused expression. Apparently he didn't know what Dean was up to either. Lynn looked over at Jayne next, and found her staring off into the crowded lobby with a moody expression on her face, not paying any attention to the other three hunters. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, huffing in irritation.

"Miss Walker," Dean suddenly announced into the phone. "Hi, this is Dr. James Headfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here… Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she _was_ injured, so…"

Dean trailed off, apparently having been interrupted by the woman on the other end. As Sam, Lynn, and Jayne watched, his face grew more and more worried, which they took to mean that Amanda wasn't buying the story he was selling.

"You what?" he asked.

There was another pause, in which the 'oh crap,' expression on Dean's face only intensified. "Um… well… there must be some mistake…"

Apparently he was interrupted for a second time, because he trailed off yet again and winced. Suddenly, he shrugged, chuckled slightly, and said, "Guilty as charged."

Sam, Lynn, and even Jayne exchanged incredulous looks. Sam attempted to get Dean's attention, but his brother wasn't paying him any mind. "He's… really sorry," Dean tested the waters.

"Yes," he agreed to whatever she said next. "But he really needs to see you tonight. So… Don't be like that! I mean, come on, the guy's a mess. Really, it's pathetic… Oh, yeah."

For a brief moment, the four hunters felt hopeful, thinking that perhaps Dean had managed to pull this off. But then, almost immediately, their hopes came crashing down around them as Dean's expression went from beguiling to panicked, and he exclaimed into the phone, "No, no! Wait! Amanda! Amanda!"

Apparently, Amanda Walker had hung up on him, because Dean slammed the phone down in frustration and swore, "Damn it! I was so close!"

"All right," Sam announced. "Time for Plan B: we're getting on that plane."

"Wh… now just hold on a second…"

"That plane is leaving," Sam interrupted. "With over a hundred passengers on board. And if we're right…" Here, he lowered his voice, as if afraid Homeland Security would come sweeping down on them all if he was overheard. "That plane is going to crash."

"I know!" Dean exclaimed.

"Well, then what's the problem?" Lynn snapped, thrusting herself into the conversation. "We have to get on that plane!"

"We have to track that demon down and exorcise it," Sam added. "Let's go to the car and get whatever will make it past security. Lynn, you and Jayne go sort out the ticket situation."

"No problem," Lynn replied, turning from the brothers and dragging her stepsister with her. "Come on Jayne, let's go."

Jayne neither assented nor protested as the other young woman dragged her away. Once they'd disappeared, Sam turned to Dean. "All right, let's go," he said.

Dean didn't move a muscle. Sam frowned. "Are you ok?" he asked.

"No," Dean retorted. "Not really."

"What's wrong?"

"Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh…" He trailed off and sighed heavily.

"Flying?" Sam supplied.

"Well, it's never really been an issue before now!" Dean returned, sounding on the verge of panic.

"You're joking, right?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?" he snapped. "Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?"

Sam paused. "Um… all right," he said finally. "We'll just go without you."

"What?"

"I'll go with Lynn and Jayne, and you can stay here," Sam elaborated. "We'll just do this without you."

"Are you nuts?" Dean exclaimed. "Sam, you said it yourself; the plane's going to crash!"

"Look, Dean, either you can come with us, or we'll do it without you. I'm not really seeing a third option here!"

"Come on! Really?" Dean looked away, the anxiety clear on his face. "Man!"

* * *

All Dean's fears aside, the four of them still ended up on Flight 424 when it took off. Dean sat by the aisle, Sam next to him, and Lynn next to Sam, directly beside the window. Jayne was rather irritated, however, to find herself sitting in the row in front of them, next to an obviously smitten couple who kept grasping one another's hands and giggling. She rolled her eyes and forced herself to stare out the window so she wouldn't have to look at them. It was disgusting, and furthermore, Jayne hated having to sit so close to someone she didn't know.

"Jayne!"

Jayne rolled her eyes a second time at the loud hiss that came from behind her and sounded a lot like her stepsister. She turned in her seat and glared at Lynn. This was all her fault anyway. If she hadn't been so determined to hunt with the Winchesters, if she hadn't been so inexplicably attracted to Sam, if…

"We have to figure out how to track this demon down, so would you please pay attention!" Lynn snapped.

The couple beside Jayne turned to look at both her and her stepsister like they were insane. And not the harmless kind of insane, either – the 'maybe it's time to call the air marshal' kind of insane.

Jayne said the first thing that popped into her head. "We're, uh… writing a novel together," she explained, giving them a rather pained smile.

Despite this, the couple seemed to buy the story. "Oh," the girl said. "That's cool."

"You know," the guy put in. "I'm somewhat of a writer myself..."

"Awesome," Jayne cut him off, and then turned back to Lynn. The guy looked mildly offended for a second, by was quickly distracted by his girlfriend and the Eskimo kisses she was showering on his face. Jayne crinkled her nose in disgust. Man, that was gross.

She looked at her impatient, fuming stepsister, and then glanced over at the other two. Sam looked rather amused for some odd reason, and Dean looked…

Dean looked uncomfortable, she supposed was the best way of describing him. At least, that was as close to describing the odd expression on his face as Jayne was going to get. Maybe she ought to ask 'somewhat of a writer' guy for his professional opinion.

"Dude," Sam asked his brother. "Are you humming Metallica?"

So that was where that annoying noise had been coming from. "It calms me down," Dean returned shortly before continuing his humming.

Jayne frowned at Sam's idiot older brother. That's what she had decided to call him from here on out. If he got to call her Goldilocks, then she got to call him Sam's idiot older brother. "Why do you need calming down?" she asked him.

"None of your freaking business," he snapped.

"It's no big deal," Sam said in a low soothing voice. "Dean's just… a little afraid of flying."

"You're afraid of flying?" Lynn asked. "I didn't know that."

Jayne snorted. "That's hilarious."

"Shut up, Goldie," Dean retorted.

"All right, all right," Sam intervened. Jayne fell silent, but glared at Dean out of the corner of her eye. He ignored her, still freaking out about being on a plane. "Let's concentrate. Dean, you really need to calm yourself down."

Dean paused, looking torn between killing his brother and returning to his wonderful heavy metal happy place. "Ok," he said finally.

"I mean, we've got thirty two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing, anyway, and perform a full on exorcism," Sam went on.

"Yeah," Dean snorted. "On a crowded plane. That's going to be easy."

"Just take it one step at a time, all right?"

"Yeah, Dean," Jayne interjected, smirking. "Take little teeny baby steps. Breathe deep. And, hey, if you need to? Don't be afraid to cry."

"When we get off this plane, I am going to _kill_ you," Dean snarled.

"I second that," Lynn announced pointedly, giving Jayne a nasty look.

Jayne rolled her eyes and fell into belligerent silence.

"All right," Sam said, with the air of an irritated elementary school teacher who desperately needed a smoke. "Who do we think it's possessing?"

"Well," Dean said. "It's usually going to be somebody with some sort of a weakness. You know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Someone with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress."

To Jayne and Lynn's amazement, Dean actually seemed to be calming down. Apparently Sam knew his brother well enough to know that if he distracted Dean by making him focus on the job, he had a better chance of getting over his fears.

"Well," Sam announced. "It is Amanda's first flight since the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up."

"Mm-hmm," Dean murmured. As the murmur left his lips, a young, pretty blonde flight attendant walked by his seat. "Excuse me," he said to catch her attention. "Are you Amanda?"

"No, I'm not," the flight attendant replied, smiling one of those fake customer service style smiles.

"Oh," Dean returned, forcing a smile of his own. "My mistake."

The flight attendant kept walking down the aisle. Dean had a very peculiar look on his face. It was obvious from his expression that he was still freaking out over being in the air. Despite this, he turned in his seat and glanced back at the other end of the plane. There was a second flight attendant with long dirt-blonde hair stationed down there.

"All right, well that's got to be Amanda back there," Dean announced. "So I will go talk to her and try to get a read on her mental state."

"What if she's already possessed?" Sam asked.

Dean brightened. "There's ways to test that," he announced, opening up his carryon. He brought out a beat up plastic bottle. "I brought Holy Water."

Sam rolled his eyes, snatching the bottle away from his brother and tucking it inside his coat. "No," he said. "I think we can go more subtle."

"Really," Lynn added, giving Dean a frown. "I mean, why don't you just walk right up to the air marshal and say, 'I'm a terrorist – arrest me!'"

"If she's possessed," Sam continued. "She'll flinch at the name of God."

"Oh," Dean said. "Nice."

He got to his feet and began walking towards the back of the plane. "Hey," Sam hissed after him.

"What?"

"Say it in Latin."

"I know."

"Hey!"

"What?"

"In Latin, it's Cristo."

"Dude, I know, I'm not an idiot!"

Dean stormed off to the back. The plane went through turbulence, and he stopped, grabbing hold of the nearest seat. He brought his fist down hard on the seat in frustration, and then continued on his way.

Sam looked over at both Lynn and Jayne, the unease clear on his face. "Actually, he is an idiot," Jayne spoke up. Then she turned back around and sat down in her seat.

Lynn sighed heavily, clearly frustrated, and kicked the back of her stepsister's seat. Jayne turned back around and gave her a vicious glare. Lynn smiled sweetly. Sam made a sound closely resembling a whimper and closed his eyes. "Don't even start," he groaned. "I'm a hunter, not a babysitter."

"So, uh… how exactly are we going to exorcise a demon on a crowded flight?" Lynn asked as quietly as possible.

Sam sighed, his eyes still closed and his head tilted back against the seat. "I have no idea."

"Well, we better think fast," Jayne returned matter-of-factly. "We've got twenty-six minutes."

Sam sighed again. Lynn screwed up her face in thought. Jayne looked towards the back of the plane to see if Dean was still talking to Amanda. As she watched the curtain at the end of the aisle, it moved back and Dean stepped out from behind it. He made his way back to the other three hunters, still looking uneasy, and sat down so fast once he reached his seat it was almost comical. "All right. Well, she's got to be the most well adjusted person on the planet," he spat out.

"You said Cristo?" Sam demanded.

"Yeah."

"And?"

"There's no demon in her. There's no demon _getting_ in her."

"Great. So if it's on the plane, it could be anyone."

The plane suddenly shook violently. "Come on, that can't be normal!" Dean exclaimed.

"It's just a little turbulence," Sam said soothingly.

Jayne and Lynn exchanged looks. "Sam, this plane is going to crash, so stop treating me like I'm freaking four!" Dean snapped.

"You need to calm down."

"I can't!"

"Yes you can."

"Dude, stow the touchy feely self help yoga crap, it's not helping me!"

"If you're panicking, then you're wide open for demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down right now," Sam half growled in a low, serious tone.

Jayne raised her eyebrow at her stepsister. Lynn looked like she was trying not to laugh. Dean stared at Sam for a moment, and then took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, apparently trying to calm down.

"Good," Sam said. "Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is going to work."

He flipped open John Winchester's notebook. Although Jayne didn't realize the significance of the journal lying across Sam's lap, she did recognize it as the same one Dean had found the Anasazi protection symbols in when they'd been hunting the wendigo in Colorado. As she frowned down at the notebook, Lynn spoke up.

"You did?" she asked Sam, sounding rather put out. "You didn't say anything."

"I'm saying something now, aren't I?" Sam asked rather irritably.

Jayne winced inwardly. Lynn's eyes narrowed. So Sam was irritated? Well, two could play at that game.

"Oh, so Jayne and I are such a burden then, are we?" she hissed. "Well, I am _so_ sorry that we're interrupting your investigation. I realize that we're absolutely no help at all. I mean, it's not like I figured out the EVP or anything. And I didn't find the sulfur on the emergency exit door. And Jayne didn't manage to wrestle information out of the insane asylum guy. We didn't do just as much work as you did. Excuse us for tagging along. It's shameful, really, the way we're breaking up the dynamic duo here!"

Sam blinked at Lynn, speechless. Dean's face made it obvious that he thought Lynn was about as stable as a crazy cat lady. Jayne sighed and rubbed her forehead. She felt a migraine coming on.

"You know, I don't appreciate being treated like a useless sidekick," Lynn went on. "How about you two stop talking like Jayne and I aren't here and include us in the conversation! Talk to us, so I don't have to keep forcing my way in!"

The Winchesters continued to stare at her. Finally Sam said, "Well… um… sorry. I guess we didn't realize we were doing that."

"Well you were," Lynn returned snottily.

Silence fell. "Well, now that that's over," Jayne said hesitantly. "Let's get back to the exorcism, shall we? We've got about twenty one minutes to go."

Sam was suddenly all business again. "Right. Well, um… the exorcism. It's called the Rituale Romanum. There's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body, causing it to manifest – which actually makes it more powerful."

"More powerful?" Dean exclaimed. "How?"

"Well it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own."

"And why is that a good thing?" Dean asked.

"A fair question," Jayne drawled.

"It's a good thing," Sam explained. "Because the second part sends the bastard back to Hell. Once and for all."

Lynn nodded. "Sounds good," she murmured. "You know, as good as exorcising a demon _can_ sound."

"Yeah, well, first things first," Dean pointed out. "We got to find the thing."

"Right," Sam agreed. "Well, um… Dean, why don't you walk up and down the aisle with the EMF reader? See if anyone sparks a reading on your, uh… busted up walkman."

Dean sneered at him. "Very funny. Fine, I'm going."

Dean dug his EMF reader out of the bag at his feet, jammed the headphones in his ear, and stormed off down the aisle.

"Give me the Holy Water," Lynn hissed at Sam.

Sam blinked at her. "What?"

"Give me the Holy Water," she repeated.

He blinked again. "What are you going to do with it?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Look for the demon. Obviously."

A short, disbelieving chuckle escaped Sam's throat. "I'm sorry, but weren't you the one who said using the Holy Water was like going up to the air marshal, announcing that you were a terrorist, and then asking him to arrest you?"

"I'm not going to splash people with it," Lynn retorted. "I'm going to spike the drinks on the trolley."

Sam blinked at her for the third time, except this time he was impressed, not confused. "Oh," he murmured. "Um… well… just don't let anyone see you."

Lynn raised her eyebrow at him. "Thanks for the tip," she replied. "Real good advice there."

She yanked the proffered water bottle out of Sam's hand and tucked it inside her purse. Then she stood up, crawled over his ridiculously long legs to get to the aisle, and disappeared in the direction Dean had gone.

Sam and Jayne exchanged looks. "They both drive me nuts," Jayne offered.

"Same here," Sam replied.

"I like Lynn better than Dean, though," she continued. "You know, 'cause I'm obligated."

Sam laughed slightly. "Fair enough."

"What's the plan for us?" she asked.

He frowned at her. "What's the deal?"

"What do you mean, what's the deal?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, you're usually all quiet and unfriendly. Now you're being… kind of friendly. It's weird."

Jayne snorted. "Hey, I just don't want to die in a flaming plane crash. I still don't trust you _or_ your brother. Now, what's the plan?"

Sam sighed and thought for a moment. "Well… I guess we could try to strike up conversations with some of the passengers. See if we can slide Cristo in."

Jayne blinked at him. "You want to what?"

The younger Winchester seemed not to comprehend the obvious dislike of his plan filling her voice. "Yeah," he said thoughtfully, almost to himself. "I'll go up the aisle, and you stay in this section."

Sam got up and disappeared in the opposite direction his brother and her stepsister had. Jayne watched him go, a look of incredulity on her face. He could not seriously expect her to willingly engage in conversation with perfect strangers. What was he, nuts? She did _not_ have the social skills for this crap.

She sat there quietly for a moment until the girl beside her got up and headed for the bathrooms. The young woman had been gone for barely three seconds before her boyfriend turned to Jayne and asked, "So how's that novel going?"

Inwardly, Jayne swore. Why the hell was this guy talking to her?

She stared at him. "Honestly? Not good."

He laughed. "Well, like I said, I do some writing myself. Maybe I could help."

Jayne snorted. "Yeah, I doubt it."

"Come on, at least give me a chance! What's the novel about?"

Jayne sighed. What the hell; why not? "Well… it's about this demon that possesses people who are getting on planes," she explained. "And then it crashes the planes. And there are these people who are trying to stop it."

He blinked at her. "That's a really weird thing to write a novel about," he announced.

Jayne shrugged and smirked at him. "Yeah, well, what can I say? We're a couple of weirdoes."

"So what's the problem? How'd you get stuck?"

Jayne stared at him for another moment. "Well, uh… the main characters are on this plane, right? And they're searching for the demon. But we can't decide who the demon should be possessing."

He looked thoughtful. "How about one of the people looking for the demon?"

Yeah, right. Great plot twist, freak. Not exactly helpful at the moment. She forced a smile at him. "Right, we're pretty sure we don't want to go that route."

He shrugged and thought for another moment. "How about one of the pilots?" he suggested after a while.

Jayne blinked at him. "One of the pilots?"

"Yeah, sure. That way it'd be easier for the demon to crash the plane. Make everything real suspenseful, right?"

Huh. Not bad. She nodded slowly. "Yeah… that could work."

"You like it? Think you'll use it?"

She shrugged and attempted to smile at him. His idea was good and all, but… she might as well do her job thoroughly. She barely trusted the people she was working this job with – she sure as hell wasn't about to trust this guy. "Yeah, well, you know what they say… Cristo."

He frowned at her. "What?"

Jayne's smile faltered. "You know… Cristo."

"Who says that?" he asked. "I don't know anyone who says that."

No black eyes, no flinching, no writhing or burning. Definitely not the demon. Oh, well, it had been worth a shot. At least he'd given her some valuable perspective. She shrugged again. "I, uh… I've got to go," she announced. Then she stood up, brushed past him, and headed off after the other three hunters.

A glance over her shoulder revealed the young man to be sitting in his seat wearing an expression of complete befuddlement. Jayne chuckled slightly. Poor bastard.

* * *

Dean made his way to the end of the aisle, trying to wave his EMF reader over the people he passed as inconspicuously as possible. So far, it wasn't working too well. Almost everyone he passed kept giving him extremely weird looks.

He sighed in his head. Whatever. At least the turbulence had stopped.

Ignoring the stares, he kept pressing on down the aisle, still trying to find the demon. He passed a young girl with several tattoos and a huge nose ring, who immediately noticed what he was doing and gave him a very nasty look. Dean forced a smile at her and kept walking.

Damn, that was one scary looking chick, he thought to himself. He remembered Jayne having a nose piercing, but she always wore a stud. Also, despite the fact that nearly every time he saw her she was wearing some baggy flannel shirt, she didn't look like a man.

He gave his head a shake. All right, enough with the insulting thoughts about the strange girl you don't even know, he thought to himself. Focus on finding the demon.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him by the arm, scaring the crap out of him. Dean jumped about ten feet in the air and swiveled around in a half panic.

Sam stood beside him. Lynn was hovering in the background. Dean glowered at him. "Aw, man, don't do that!" he exclaimed.

"Anything?" Sam asked, all business.

Dean shook his head. "No, nothing. How much time we got?"

Sam checked his watch and sighed heavily. "Fifteen minutes."

"We are so screwed," Lynn breathed out, clearly exasperated – and on the verge of panic. "Where the hell is this thing?"

"Maybe we missed somebody," Sam said.

"Maybe the thing's just not on the plane," Dean replied, sounding a little too hopeful.

Sam stared at his brother like he'd grown another head. "You really believe that?"

"Well, I will if you will."

"Yeah right," Lynn put in. She folded her arms across her chest and glanced all around her. "Where the hell is my stepsister?"

Sam glanced around too. "I don't know. Think she found something?"

Suddenly, Dean heard his EMF reader go off. He glanced down at it in surprise and then looked up in the direction it was pointed. Standing directly in front of him was the copilot.

Sam immediately noticed the shocked expression on his brother's face. "What is it?" he asked.

Dean didn't reply, just continued staring at the copilot. "Cristo," he murmured.

The copilot looked up at the three hunters standing in the aisle. Suddenly, he wasn't the copilot anymore. He had huge black eyes – huge black pupil-less eyes, and the whites of his eyeballs were just gone. Then, as though nothing had happened, the copilot turned away from them and headed back inside the cockpit.

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam, and then at Lynn. The three of them looked at the cockpit door in shock.

"Hey!"

Sam, Dean, and Lynn all jumped. They turned around to see Jayne standing behind them. "I was just talking to this guy," she announced, oblivious to what had just happened. "And I think maybe the demon's possessing one of the pilots…"

"Yeah, well stop thinking, Goldie, because we already know it is," Dean cut her off, sounding impatient.

She blinked at him. "You do?"

"Yeah," Lynn explained. "We just ran the Cristo test on the copilot. He's got the devil in him, all right."

Jayne looked put out. "Oh." She crossed her arms and stared rather petulantly at the floor. "So much for my great idea."

"Now what?" Sam murmured. "How the hell are we supposed to get into the cockpit and exorcise the demon from the copilot? This job just keeps getting more and more impossible by the minute!"

"I've got an idea," Dean announced.

"You do?"

"Yeah. We need to talk to Amanda."

* * *

Sam led Dean, Lynn and Jayne down the aisle and back to where Amanda was filling up her trolley, or whatever it was flight attendants did while they were standing behind the curtain. He was shaking his head. "She's not going to believe this," the younger Winchester announced.

"Twelve minutes, dude!" Dean replied.

The four of them filed through the curtain. Sam pulled it closed behind him. Amanda looked up at their arrival. "Oh, hi," she smiled, apparently recognizing Dean. "Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope."

"Actually, that's kind of what we wanted to talk to you about," Dean replied, glancing furtively over his shoulder.

Amanda looked a little surprised – and who could blame her, really? After all, she was only the flight attendant. How was she supposed to make the plane fly smoother? Despite this, she managed a smile and said, "Well, um… ok. What can I do for you?"

Dean took a deep breath. "All right, well… this is going to sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole 'the truth is out there' speech right now…"

"All right, look," Sam interrupted. "We know you were on Flight 2485."

Amanda's pleasant 'I'm here to help you' smile faded into an unsettled frown. "Who are you guys?"

"Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors," Sam went on, ignoring the question. "We know something brought down that plane, and it wasn't mechanical failure."

"And we need your help to stop it from happening again. Here. Now," Dean added.

Amanda looked rather flustered and very uncomfortable. Lynn rolled her eyes. Leave it to Sam and Dean to ignore the sensitivity of the situation and scare the crap out of the poor girl. She probably thought they were all terrorists or something.

"Amanda," she said softly, giving her a pacifying smile. The other woman stared at her, still looking nervous. "Hi, I'm Lynn Juarez. This is Jayne, Dean, and Sam. And I know what we're saying is kind of hard to swallow, but trust me. We're here to help."

The young flight attendant, who _had_ looked about ready to go rushing off down the aisle in pursuit of the pilot, or a marshal, or anyone who could help her escape the crazies in the back of the plane, seemed to relax. Only very slightly of course, but it was enough. Sam pounced. "There was something wrong with 2485," he said. "Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't, but there's something wrong with this flight too."

Amanda stared at them all. "I… I… um…"

"Look," Dean interjected. "The pilot on 2485? Chuck Lambert? He's dead."

"What!" Amanda exclaimed, looking and sounding horrified. "Chuck is dead?"

Lynn swooped in, giving Dean a glare. She rested a comforting hand on Amanda's arm. The other woman jumped about a foot in the air, but Lynn stayed the course. "It was another plane crash," she explained gently. "We think the same thing that brought down 2485 brought down Chuck's plane too. And we think it's here on this plane now."

Amanda stared at her. "Did you notice anything unusual about Flight 2485?" Lynn asked.

The woman looked up at Dean, Sam, and Jayne, and then looked back at Lynn, swallowing noticeably. "Um…" she seemed hesitant to go on. "Well… on Flight 2485, there was… there was this man. He… he had these eyes…"

"Yes!" Sam exclaimed. "That's exactly what we're talking about!"

"Well I don't understand. What are you asking me to do?"

"Get the copilot," Dean replied. "Bring him back here."

"What? Why? What does he have to do with anything?"

"We think…" Lynn started to reply, but Dean cut her off.

"Don't have time to explain," he said. "We just need to talk to him."

"Well how am I supposed to go into the cockpit and get the copilot…?"

"Whatever it takes," Sam interrupted desperately. "Do whatever it takes. Tell him something's broken back here… whatever will get him out of that cockpit."

"Do you know that I can lose my job…?"

"Well, you're going to lose a lot more than that if you don't help us out!" Dean snapped.

Amanda was shocked into silence. Lynn gave Dean another disapproving glare before turning to her and saying gently, "Please, Amanda. We're really counting on you here."

Amanda stared at Lynn for a moment, and then took a shaky breath and headed out into the aisle. Dean peered out through the curtain to watch her walk to the cockpit and knock on the door.

Lynn crossed her arms in annoyance and glared at the other three hunters. "You three!" she exclaimed as quietly as possible, clearly exasperated. "You just have no idea how to talk to people."

"Hey," Jayne protested. "I didn't say a word!"

"Precisely!"

"Shut up, they're coming back," Dean ordered.

The two stepsisters ceased their bickering and stepped out of the way. Sam opened up the journal and began flipping through the pages, looking for the exorcism. Dean stood at the side of the door, waiting expectantly. As soon as the copilot came through the curtains and into the back area of the plane, Dean's fist went sailing through the air, making crushing impact with the side of the copilot's face and sending him crashing to the ground. The man looked up in surprise as he hit the emergency exit door, and Dean rushed at him, lifting him up off the ground and slamming him back down. Lynn raced up beside Dean and slapped a piece of duct tape over the man's mouth while Dean and Jayne grabbed a hold of the man and forced him back against the floor. Sam knelt beside them and squirted Holy Water all over the man's torso.

"What are you doing?" Amanda exclaimed in horror. "You said you were just going to talk to him!"

"We are going to talk to him," Sam replied.

Amanda stared at the man as he lay writhing on the floor. His shirt began to hiss and steam, the water bubbling on the fabric right before her eyes. "Oh my God," she exclaimed. "Oh my… I… I…"

"Look, we need you calm," Sam said to her. "We need you calm and we need you outside the curtain."

"But I… I don't understand… what…"

Lynn got swiftly to her feet and took the flight attendant by the arm. "It's all right. Calm down. We're not hurting him; we're hurting what's inside of him."

That did little to pacify Amanda, who still looked panicked, and now looked confused as well. Lynn ignored the look on her face and led her briskly to the curtain, with a no-nonsense attitude that was very hard to argue with. "Everything's going to be fine," she said soothingly. "But we need you to keep people out of here. Can you do that? Can you stand outside the curtain and keep everyone out?"

Amanda glanced back helplessly at where Sam, Dean, and Jayne were still restraining the struggling copilot. "But…"

"Amanda, we need you to do this for us," Lynn pressed. "Just stand outside, and don't let anyone in here. It'll be over before you know it."

She didn't look anymore at ease, but she did nod and move to stand outside the curtain, keeping watch.

Lynn raced back to where the other three were performing the exorcism. Jayne and Dean were still holding the copilot down and Sam was reading from the journal. As Lynn ran back to the exorcism, the copilot's arm shot out, knocking the Holy Water from Sam's grasp. He tossed Jayne backwards and into the wall.

Lynn dove for the Holy Water as the copilot repeated the toss with Dean. The elder Winchester crashed into Jayne. Almost immediately, the two of them began struggling and pushing each other, trying to disentangle themselves. Suddenly, the possessed man grabbed Sam by the shirt and pulled him closer, ripping the tape from his mouth. "I know what happened to your girlfriend," he hissed.

Sam froze, staring at the demon beside him. Lynn raced forward with the bottle in her hands, knowing the still struggling Jayne and Dean were going to be very little help. "She must have died screaming," the demon continued, sounding all too pleased at the horrible thought. "Even now she burns!"

Lynn grabbed the man by the mouth, stifling any further comment, and squirted the Holy Water all over the man's front. He moaned from behind her palm, his shirt and chest burning and hissing. "If anyone's going to burn, it's going to be you," she announced, still spraying.

Dean appeared at her side and punched the man in the face. The he grabbed the man by the shoulders and helped Lynn restrain him. "Finish it, Sam!" he ordered.

Sam, although he still seemed thrown, snatched the book back up and continued reading. Jayne appeared on the other side of Dean as the man struggling under him and Lynn now began to groan. From the way he had begun to shake, it looked as though the demon was about to leave his body.

"I've got him," Sam announced, helping the other two restrain him. Suddenly, the man's leg shot out and kicked the journal under the curtain.

"Shit," Lynn exclaimed, letting go of the copilot and tripping over Sam as she dove for the door. "I'll get it!"

No one else had noticed the notebook disappear. "Get what?" Jayne asked, leaping forward and helping pin down the possessed man. With Lynn gone, the man had nearly succeeded in throwing the Winchesters off. "Great timing, by the way," she grumbled after her stepsister.

The man began to convulse. As the three pinned him to the ground, a black mass began to pour from out his mouth. The demon left the copilot's body, and disappeared into the ventilation.

Outside the curtain, Lynn tried very nonchalantly to look under the seats for the journal without anyone noticing. Amanda gave her a wide-eyed look and mouthed at her in panic, 'What are you doing?' Lynn attempted a reassuring smile and then returned to her search.

It was underneath the seat of a young man who couldn't be much older than her. As inconspicuously as possible, Lynn knelt down on the floor and reached her hand as far under the seat as it would go, desperately trying to catch hold of the notebook.

"What are you doing?"

Lynn's head shot up like she was some sort of whack-a-mole game, and she made eye contact with the young man who was giving her a weird look. "Uh… sorry," she said, trying to smile at him. "I dropped something and it slid under here."

A grin crossed his lips – a grin that sort of creeped Lynn out. "No problem," he replied, trying to sound suave. "You know what else you could do while you're down there?"

Lynn's jaw dropped and her eyebrows furrowed. Unbelievable! What a dog! She was about to tell him off, when suddenly the plane lurched downward, and the lights began flickering crazily.

Mr. Suave Pick-up Line started screaming like a girl. Everyone else on the plane joined him. Amanda stumbled over to a seat, eyes wide with horror. Lynn laid down flat on her stomach and reached for the notebook.

Unfortunately, the plane was tilted nose-down. The journal slid out from under the creeper's chair and went flying down the length of the plane. "Damn it!" Lynn exclaimed, scrambling back to her feet and chasing after the notebook. She stumbled, tripped, and practically rolled the rest of the way down the aisle. Too frantic to care that she'd probably busted her kneecap or her skull or something, Lynn rose up on her knees and reached under another person's seat. Stretching her arm as far as it would extend, Lynn fumbled for the notebook, her fingers touching the spine and yet still unable to grasp it.

Behind the curtain, Sam had leapt to his feet and tore off in the direction that Lynn had disappeared. Dean and Jayne attempted to follow him, but once the plane began its downward descent, that became impossible. Jayne stumbled back into the wall and, much to her irritation, Dean landed on top of her.

Not only did he land on her, he also started hollering like he was riding a roller coaster or something. Jayne sighed loudly in exasperation and attempted to shove him off of her. "Damn it, Dean, would you get up!" she exclaimed.

He completely ignored her request. Not only did he not get up, he also continued yelling in terror instead of answering her. "Dean!" she shouted at him. "What are you, a woman? Get up!"

Jayne gave him a mighty shove. Finally, the elder Winchester flew towards the opposite wall, crashing painfully into it. In spite of herself, Jayne couldn't help but wince. Oops.

She struggled to her feet and ran for the curtain. The plane suddenly lurched forward and she toppled over into Dean. The two of them ended up in a tangled heap in the corner. "Get off me!" he yelled.

"I'm trying!" she yelled back. And she was, too. But no matter how hard she tried to disentangle herself from Dean, she failed miserably. Dean braced himself against the wall, forcing them both up into a sitting position. Jayne grabbed a hold of the curtain and lifted herself to her feet.

The plane gave another sickening lurch. She flew face first into the wall, bounced off, and crumpled to the floor. Grabbing her forehead – which hurt like a bitch – she moaned and tried to get back up. "Damn it, anyhow!"

Dean was also thrown forward, but instead of face planting in the wall, he managed to break his fall with Jayne. Once again, she found herself pinned beneath him. "Get off me!" she screeched.

He screeched back, except he did it wordlessly. The plane continued its fall to earth. As it tilted forward more and more, Jayne began to realize she was _not_ getting back up. Sandwiched between a practically hysterical Dean and the wall of the plane, Jayne gave in to her inevitable fate.

She was going to die underneath Dean Winchester.

The perfect end to a perfect life.

Back in the plane's cabin, Lynn was still stretched out on the aisle floor, desperately scrambling to drag the notebook out from under the seat hiding it. A faint cry of joy escaped her lips as her hand finally closed around the spine of the book, and she pulled it out from its dark prison.

"Lynn!"

She looked up to see Sam racing towards her. The plane suddenly nosedived further, sending Sam crashing to the floor. He landed on top of her.

For one completely stupid moment, the two of them stared at one another. Dark blue met chocolate brown. Then Sam snapped out of it. "The notebook!" he exclaimed.

Lynn lifted it up off the floor and held it in the air like a trophy. "Right here!"

He snatched the journal from her hands and flipped furiously through the pages, trying to find the exorcism. Then he rose up on his knees – although apparently, he couldn't be bothered to stop straddling her – and began to shout in Latin over the roaring sound of the plane crashing.

As the last few rites of exorcism fell from his lips, the plane began shaking harder – and then electricity sizzled all around the cabin. The plane slowed, and then miraculously pulled itself out of the nosedive.

It had worked. They had exorcised the demon.

Slowly, it began to dawn on the passengers that everything was going to be all right. The lights stopped flickering, the plane returned to normal, and everyone on board let out sighs of relief. There were even a few laughs.

As the voice of the pilot came on over the PA, Sam glanced down at Lynn, who he happened to still be sitting on. He sort of laughed. She came back with a single short chuckle.

Then Sam swallowed noticeably as he noticed the position they were in. "Um… sorry," he said, quickly climbing off of her and struggling to his feet. Lynn sat up slowly, her black hair falling into her face. Sam extended his hand and hauled her back on her feet.

Awkwardness settled over them. "We saved the plane," Sam said dumbly.

"Yeah," Lynn replied. "Go us."

On the other side of the curtain, Dean's terrified hollering had finally ceased. He looked all around him like he was shocked that he wasn't dead. Jayne, still pinned beneath him, rolled her eyes in annoyance. Then he looked down at her.

Jayne made eye contact with him. That's when she noticed his unusual, very pretty, dark green eyes.

She stared at him wordlessly for a moment. To her surprise, he stared back. Then she closed her eyes, gave her head a little shake, and growled, "The plane's done crashing, you're done screaming like a little girl, and I'm done having you on top of me. Get off!"

"Oh, like I'm on top of you because I want to be," Dean grumbled. Jayne opened her eyes again to find Dean carefully disentangling himself from her and getting cautiously to his feet.

As soon as he was clear, she leapt to her feet as well. The two of them made their way towards the curtain. On the other side stood Lynn and Sam. The four of them exchanged looks.

The demon was in Hell. They weren't dead. Imagine that.

* * *

Back in the airport, everyone from the plane was milling about, talking to Homeland Security about the almost plane crash. The copilot sat in a wheelchair, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, telling the agents interviewing him that he couldn't remember a thing. Amanda was talking to an agent as well. When he wasn't looking, she mouthed the four hunters a thank you.

Everything should have been fine. But it wasn't.

Jayne and Lynn had already started for the door when Dean turned to Sam and announced, "Let's get out of here."

The two brothers followed the stepsisters out of the airport silently. "You ok?" Dean asked his little brother.

"Dean," Sam murmured, quietly enough so no one else could hear. The pain in his voice was obvious. "It _knew_ about Jessica."

"Sam," Dean replied, trying to sound matter-of-fact. "These things read minds. They lie."

Sam stared at his older brother. "Right," he agreed. He didn't sound like he meant it.

"Come on," was all Dean said. The two of them followed Jayne and Lynn out into the parking lot.

The four of them climbed back into Dean's Impala to make the long drive back to Catani, Pennsylvania. Dean ordered Sam to drive, and climbed into the passenger's seat, apparently ready for a nap. The two stepsisters settled into the back, and Sam started up the engine. Soon, they were on the road.

Lynn sat in the backseat, feeling rather awkward. During their time on this hunt, she had begun to feel some sort of a connection with the youngest Winchester boy. Oh sure, she had definitely noticed how attractive he was before, but this hunt had really cemented some sort of interaction. He was beautiful, but he also had a lot of substance. The type of guy Lynn was curious to know more about.

However, he also appeared to have a dead girlfriend.

As they drove on through the night, both Dean and Jayne fell asleep. Once she was sure they were out, Lynn decided it was time to speak up. She wanted to know what the demon was talking about. She wanted to know more about the mystery that was Sam Winchester.

"Sam," she said quietly.

He stiffened, surprised, but then relaxed and said, "Yeah?"

"Are you all right?"

Sam tried to make himself laugh. "Everyone keeps asking me that."

Lynn didn't even crack a smile. "You're not all right, then."

Sam fell quiet again. Finally, he said, "I'm fine."

They lapsed into awkward silence. Lynn was the one to break it. "Sam, on the plane, when we were exorcising that demon, he mentioned something about your girlfriend."

Quick and to the point. Lynn just laid everything out with no attempt at tricks or games. It was that same frankness that got innocents to cooperate with her on hunts – a businesslike frankness mixed with calm, soothing sympathy. Sure, she didn't always let everyone know every little detail, but she told you what she thought you needed to know, and she didn't dance around the subject either.

Sam dreaded what was coming next. "Sam, what was he talking about? What _did_ happen to your girlfriend?"

Silence descended over the car. Lynn didn't push, didn't ask again, just stared at him expectantly in the rearview mirror. Finally, Sam let out a heavy sigh and said, "She died."

"How?"

Another silence. "Our apartment caught on fire," Sam replied shortly.

"What was her name?"

Sam blinked back sudden, unexpected tears. "Jessica Moore."

There was another long awkward silence. Sam continued blinking, trying desperately not to cry. He kept his eyes focused on the road so Lynn couldn't see the struggle.

"When did this happen?" she asked softly.

Sam swallowed back the tears. "Not too long ago. Less than two months."

Lynn suddenly felt very foolish.

Sam was cute. He was smart. He had a sense of humor. There was a lot to the guy. Lynn liked him. She wanted to know him better.

She probably never would.

He had just lost his girlfriend. A girl that, judging from the way he was trying – and failing – not to cry, he had really loved. And no matter what, Lynn knew that she didn't stand a chance.

The girl had died, young and probably beautiful, in a tragic way during the high point of their relationship. That was something Lynn simply couldn't compete with.

She crossed her arms over her chest and silently admitted defeat to the poor young girl, wherever she was now. Then she leaned back in the seat and stared out the window.

"How'd the fire start?"

Sam cringed. Lynn noticed.

"Um… don't know… electrical shortage, probably."

She didn't buy it. He was lying.

But Lynn wasn't going to press the matter. If it was that painful, then he didn't have to tell her. He certainly wasn't under any obligation to. And maybe she really didn't want to know.

It was just another tragic piece to the puzzle of Sam Winchester: Mystery.

* * *

Jerry Pinowski walked Sam and Dean out to their car. The hunt was over, and Jayne and Lynn had either left town already or were still locked away in their motel room. It didn't matter really. Dean still didn't trust them completely, and was glad to have them out of his hair. Sam, too, was glad to see them gone. Not because he didn't like them, not because he didn't trust them, not because they were a pain to have around. But he couldn't deal with Lynn right now. He couldn't deal with the fact that he'd told her about Jessica. And he couldn't deal with the fact that he was starting to like her.

Dean hadn't been wrong. The girl was hot. But she was more than that. She was funny, she was smart, and she was direct. He liked it.

He shouldn't.

She wasn't Jessica. And Jessica wasn't even cold in her grave yet. He loved her now every bit as much as he loved her when she'd been alive. And it was wrong – it was disloyal – to think about Lynn the way he'd been thinking about her since this stupid hunt had begun.

"No one knows what you guys did, but I do," Jerry announced, interrupting Sam's train of thought. "A lot of people could have been killed. Your dad's going to be real proud."

Jerry shook hands with Sam, and then with Dean. "See you around Jerry," Sam said. He felt even worse now. The mention of his father had brought up yet another part of Sam's life that he felt was being horribly neglected every time he spent even a minute thinking about Lynn. He didn't have time to be thinking about romance. What was he supposed to do, anyway, take her out to dinner? This wasn't the time for dating. He needed to find his father.

"Hey Jerry?" Dean called out suddenly.

"Yeah?"

"I meant to ask you. How did you get my phone number, anyway? I've only had it about six months."

"Your dad gave it to me."

Both Dean and Sam froze at Jerry's words. "When did you talk to him?" Dean asked, hardly daring to hope.

"Well, I didn't exactly," Jerry replied. "I called his cell. The voicemail said to give you call. Thanks again, guys."

Jerry disappeared inside the airport. Dean and Sam climbed into the Impala and drove off silently. Then, suddenly, after barely five minutes on the road, Dean pulled over, got out of the car, and pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket.

Sam got out as well and followed his brother to the back bumper. They leaned against the truck, side by side. "This doesn't make any sense, man," Sam announced. "I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service."

Dean kept dialing his father's number. Then he lifted it to his ear as it began to ring.

"This is John Winchester," the voicemail answered. "I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help."

* * *

Jayne packed her bag hastily. Both she and Lynn had overslept that morning, and now she was trying to make up for lost time. She was frustrated, mostly because they'd missed check-out time, and now they were going to have to pay for another night. The other reason she was frustrated had primarily to do with Lynn.

Ever since the flight, Lynn had been moody and perturbed. Jayne didn't care for it. She almost wished her stepsister was still staring at her laptop screen 24/7 and crying about Stephen. Lynn's tears, much like anyone's tears, usually made Jayne feel uncomfortable, but she was also used to Lynn crying. She knew how to handle it. The moodiness she wasn't quite so well-equipped to deal with.

Lynn, still not packed and moving very slowly (much to Jayne's annoyance) had just booted up her laptop and was now checking Stephen's location using the tracking device. Jayne felt a stab of guilt. They had been so wrapped up in this hunt that they'd nearly forgotten about Stephen. What the hell were they doing, anyway? Now was not the time to be making new friends and hunting new evils. They were supposed to be looking for their brother! Her stepfather was probably turning in his grave.

"He left," Lynn announced.

Jayne felt a second stab of guilt. "Where is he?" she asked.

She shrugged. "Looks like he's moving west."

Jayne sighed. "Hurry up and pack your crap. We need to get on the road."

"Why?" Lynn asked sullenly.

Jayne whirled on her stepsister. "Why?" she asked incredulously. There was sudden fury vibrating throughout her whole body. "Why? Why do you think, Lynn? We need to find Stephen."

"Why should we?" Lynn asked petulantly.

Jayne threw her hairbrush down on the bed. "Why should we?" she repeated in a low, dangerous tone of voice. "I know you didn't just ask me that question."

"You think I don't miss him?" Lynn asked coldly, not intimidated by Jayne's anger. "You think I don't worry? Of course I do! I've cried for him! I've searched for him! I've tried to understand! But he up and left us, Jayne! Stephen ditched us! The only family he has! The only people who were always there for him, who sacrificed everything for him – that selfish bastard turned and ran! He left us, Jayne! And he doesn't want to be found!"

Silence enveloped the room. Jayne stared at her stepsister, no expression on her face. Lynn looked flushed and her eyes were dancing with an angry fire that Jayne didn't often see there. Oh, sure, Lynn was a feisty one, but she didn't get angry that way. Not so angry she was dangerous. Not angry like Jayne.

Jayne turned away from her stepsister and continued her packing. "Pack your crap," she said again. "We need to get on the road."

There was another silence. Then, suddenly, in a fast, angry flash of movement, Lynn got to her feet and stormed to her side of the room. The suitcase came out and she started shoving her things furiously inside.

Jayne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly but surely, the hunt for Stephen was taking a turn for the worst.

* * *


	11. Exploding Eyeballs

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to winchesterxgirl, tbelle1234, guardian music angel, and Mareike for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 11: Exploding Eyeballs

A rusty gray Nissan pickup truck pulled into the parking lot of the Toledo, Ohio Budget Inn. Jayne tucked a loose strand of white-blonde hair behind her ear and shut off the ignition. With a heavy sigh, she turned to her stepsister, Lynn, who was sitting in the passenger seat. "Well," she announced tiredly. "Here we are."

"Yep," Lynn agreed. She stared out the windshield with her arms crossed in front of her chest, a sulky expression on her face. "Here we are."

The two of them were silent for a few seconds. "Look, Lynn," Jayne said, talking a deep breath. "I know you're still upset about…"

"You're damn straight I'm still upset," Lynn spat.

"Stop it," Jayne ordered.

Lynn fell silent, but continued to glower at the windshield. "Lynn," Jayne said, attempting to keep the growl out of her voice. "We can _not_ do this. I know it hurts, but if we give up…"

"It's too late," Lynn interrupted. "Stephen left. He's gone. It's too late."

"No, it's not."

Lynn shook her head. "I'm tired, Jayne. I'm tired of all this. I'm tired of following that goddamn blinking little light all over the country, and I'm tired of him running every time we get close. I'm tired."

"What happened on that plane?" Jayne demanded.

"Nothing," Lynn retorted sourly. "This has nothing to do with the plane."

"Bull," Jayne snapped. "You've been a royal pain in my ass since we got off Flight 424, and I want to know why."

Lynn took a deep breath and let it out in a long, exasperated sigh. "It's nothing, Jayne. I don't know, I guess I'm just… feeling the road, you know?"

Jayne stared at Lynn for a long time. Then she nodded, obviously not believing her but pretending to anyway, and said, "Fine. All right. Let's go check in."

She climbed out of the truck and made her way towards the door. Lynn sat in the truck a moment longer and then slowly clambered out of the vehicle and followed her stepsister inside the motel.

Lynn couldn't explain her problem to her stepsister. Hell, she couldn't even explain it to herself. She just wasn't quite sure what was going on with her. Exorcising that demon and learning about Sam's girlfriend… for some reason, she had just snapped. It wasn't that she wasn't still worried about Stephen, because she was. But suddenly, Lynn felt betrayed. Like maybe Stephen wasn't worried about her or Jayne anymore.

And maybe her infatuation with Sam Winchester had been a kind of distraction. Something that kept her from focusing too much on Stephen, and exactly what his disappearance meant. But now that was all shot to Hell. She had absolutely no chance with Sam. Which brought her back to square one: her little brother was missing, and he was purposely hiding from his older sisters.

Nothing was going right anymore. It was just one disappointment too many.

The disappointments, however, seemed determined to keep coming. Lynn stepped inside the motel at last, nearly three minutes after her stepsister had entered the building, and stopped short at the scene in front of her.

She wasn't even surprised, really. Deep down, a part of her had expected it.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Jayne was asking the two men in front of her, standing with her arms crossed and clearly looking for a confrontation.

Dean and Sam Winchester were staring her down, impressively holding their own. "We were here first!" Dean snapped. "So tell me, Jayne – what the hell are _you_ two doing here?"

Jayne seemed to simmer. Sam looked uncomfortable, but the distrust was there in his eyes too. Lynn saw it, and it made her see red.

She walked up to the other three and said, "Well, well. I sort of thought I'd be seeing you two," she announced.

All three of them turned to look at her incredulously. "You did?" Sam asked.

"Well, of course I did," Lynn retorted. "After all, we can't really seem to go anywhere anymore without bumping into the two of you."

Dean's furious look only seemed to intensify. Sam looked mildly confused at her blatant rudeness. Lynn didn't care. She didn't want the Winchesters to be in Toledo. Quite frankly, she didn't want to see the Winchesters ever again. All they did was remind her of things gone wrong in her life, and things she couldn't have, and she didn't need that now. She didn't need the extra pain.

Jayne also looked rather surprised to see her sister bite without being provoked, but she seemed more than willing to roll with it. "She's got an excellent point, boys," she added.

Dean snorted, clearly beyond aggravated and obviously done with the conversation. "Whatever. I suggest a compromise: you two stay out of our way, and we'll stay out of yours. Sound good?"

"Sounds more than good," Jayne retorted. "So why don't you get your sorry ass out of here now, Winchester, because at the moment, you are in my way."

He sneered. "Bite me, Goldie."

Dean brushed past her, knocking his shoulder roughly against hers. The motel door closed behind him with a loud slam.

Muttering under her breath, Jayne made to leave as well. "Jayne, where are you going?" Lynn demanded.

"To another freaking motel!"

"We've been all over the city, Jayne," Lynn returned patiently. "There aren't many other options."

Jayne appeared torn. She obviously really did not want to spend one moment longer under the same roof as the Winchester boys. She also didn't want to drive around the city for another half hour looking for a motel.

"Fine," she grumbled, heading for the front desk. Lynn wasn't surprised. As usual, Jayne's laziness had won out over anything else.

Lynn watched her stepsister walk up to the receptionist. Then she turned to Sam, who was watching her apprehensively. "Are you all right?" he asked finally.

"Perfect," she replied.

He frowned at her. "You don't seem… perfect."

Lynn sighed heavily and gave Sam the warning look. The look that appeared on her face right before she raked someone over the coals. Sam winced, but before he could backtrack, Lynn started in.

"Well, maybe I'm not," she said frostily. "Maybe I've got some problems. Maybe something's a little off today. But quite frankly, Sam? Maybe none of that is your business."

Sam blinked at her in surprise. "Look, I didn't mean…"

"You know, at first I was willing to roll with this weird shit," Lynn barreled on. "I mean, don't get me wrong, Sam. I'm not the most trusting person in the world. But I am one of the more trusting hunters out there. And I wanted to trust you and your brother, I really did. But this… no. I just don't know anymore."

Sam looked mildly hurt, and Lynn suddenly felt slightly guilty. He'd only asked her if she was all right, after all. Again, Lynn was back to questioning why she was acting the way she had been for the past few days. Why was she so upset? Was it Jessica? Was her problem finding out about Jessica and her death and the obvious fact that Sam was nowhere near over her – probably never would be? Was she upset that Sam had secrets he wasn't willing to share? Because that was hypocrisy at its worst. Lynn had plenty of secrets that she hadn't even contemplated telling Sam.

Lynn began to marvel at her bad attitude. When did she start to act this way? Like a spoiled child who lashes out when things don't go her way. Because that was exactly what she was doing, wasn't it? Lynn was attracted to Sam. And she didn't believe that he could ever be interested in her the way she was interested in him. So soon after his girlfriend's death? It wasn't practical. And so, she was getting upset.

She was being ridiculous.

"Sam, I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "I didn't mean any of that."

He stared at her uncertainly. "No?" he asked.

Lynn sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm just lashing out at anyone who gets in my way," she murmured. "It's wrong, and I'm sorry. Not that it's an excuse or anything, but it's been a rough few months."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I know what you mean."

That made her feel worse. Because he was right, after all. He _did_ know what she meant.

They stood silently and awkwardly in the lobby. "We're on a hunt," Sam announced suddenly. "There was this guy… he died in front of a mirror. His eyes kind of just… exploded."

"Exploding eyeballs?" Lynn asked skeptically.

Sam gave a short laugh. "Well, when you say it like that…"

They were silent for another moment. "We went to his wake," Sam went on. "His youngest daughter seemed to think it was her fault. That she'd accidentally killed him because she'd said Bloody Mary in the mirror."

Interest flickered in Lynn's eyes. "You think…?"

"Maybe," Sam said. "Honestly, we're not really sure yet. We were going to the library to do some research."

Lynn nodded. They were silent again. "You know, maybe if whatever you're here for falls through or whatever…" Sam trailed off.

Lynn was taken by surprise. Sam was actually asking her if she wanted to work this case with him and his brother. She hadn't had to wrestle her way in or anything. _Sam_ had taken the initiative. Lynn was shocked.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to accept.

"Maybe," she murmured quietly. "We're kind of busy."

Sam nodded. "That's ok," he murmured. "I understand."

"Good luck," Lynn said.

"Thanks," he smiled half-heartedly. "You too."

She nodded and smiled back. Sam gave her a rather pathetic half wave and then walked out the door.

Jayne came up behind her. "Here's your key," she half growled, practically throwing the room card at her.

Lynn snatched the little hunk of plastic from her stepsister's hands. "Thanks, asshole," she mock-chirped.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Let's lug our shit up to the room and then get started looking for Stephen," she said. "Or do you have some sort of ghost-hunting date with Sam Winchester that you're going to need some time off for?"

Lynn blinked. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Jayne didn't bat an eye. "I think you know."

The younger of the two stepsisters shifted uncomfortably under the elder's eyes. "Jayne…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You don't know what I'm talking about. Stop squirming, Bashful," Jayne said, managing a smirk at Lynn before she headed back out to the Nissan.

Lynn sighed heavily. "What's the point of older sisters anyway?" she grumbled under her breath.

* * *

Jayne hung up the phone, finished talking with the doctor on duty at the last hospital in the area. She eyed Lynn, who was sitting on her bed, cradling her cell phone to her ear and talking to a mechanic at one of the local garages. Then she heaved a sigh and began searching the obituaries in the newspaper.

Lynn was still being grumpy, but since they had encountered the Winchesters in the motel lobby, her mood had lifted ever so slightly. For example, she was back on track when it came to finding Stephen.

Quite frankly, this aggravated Jayne to no end. There was no reason why it should. She was glad to have Lynn back. She was pissed, however, that a short conversation with Sam Winchester was all it took to bring her around.

Call her paranoid, but there was no way Jayne was going to trust those boys, not in this more than shady situation. And it both concerned and irritated her that Lynn seemed to be getting more and more involved with them.

Lynn hung up her cell phone with a heavy sigh. "Surprise, surprise," she announced. "There is no record of a Superbird being worked on in any garage in the county."

"No one matching Stephen's description was found in any of the nearby hospitals," Jayne replied. "And so far, no mention in the obits. I suppose that last one is a good thing."

They fell silent. Jayne rustled the newspaper in front of her. Lynn started chewing her lip. Then she booted up her laptop and started tapping one long fingernail against the tabletop. "So, uh… shouldn't you be getting ready?" Jayne asked suddenly.

Lynn looked up at her stepsister with a confused frown. "For…?"

Jayne shrugged. "I don't know. Whatever crazy ghost hunt you and Sam dreamed up in hopes of getting a chance to ogle one another. Don't you think you better be slutting yourself up in preparation?"

It was highly amusing to see Lynn try to hide the blush forming in her cheeks. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right," Jayne nodded, returning to her newspaper. She idly turned the pages. "So you don't have any place to be? No hunting to do alongside certain tall shaggy-haired boys?"

"Nope."

Jayne glanced up from the paper very suddenly, looking interested. "Really?"

"Really," Lynn replied, staring at her laptop monitor.

"So the Winchesters aren't here on a hunt?"

"Oh, they're here on a hunt. Looking for something that might be Bloody Mary, actually."

"Bloody Mary?" Jayne asked incredulously. "As in the urban legend, Bloody Mary?"

"The one and only."

Jayne snorted. "Yeah, right."

Lynn ignored her, her fingers clacking against the keyboard.

"So, what then?" Jayne pushed on, yet carefully. "You're not going to lend them a helping hand?"

"Not this time."

Jayne raised her eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

She continued to stare at Lynn with her eyebrow raised. "What happened? You two have your first fight, or something? Lover's spat?"

"Shut up," Lynn grumbled. "It's nothing, Jayne, really. I just… I want to focus on finding Stephen, that's all. I'm not really up for tagging along behind the Winchesters."

Jayne eyed her stepsister with suspicion. "All right. I guess I could buy that… you know, if you hadn't been so gung-ho against tracking down our little brother about three hours ago."

Lynn shrugged, still staring at her laptop. "I was upset. Tired. Cranky. I didn't mean any of that."

Jayne nodded. She didn't believe her stepsister for a minute, but she decided to let it go. She wasn't real big on the heart to heart stuff anyway. "Well, ok then. I'm just glad I don't have to deal with those two idiots anymore."

Lynn smirked, and then threw herself into whatever work she was doing on her laptop. Jayne rolled her eyes, and folded up the newspaper. Something was eating at Lynn – something more than Stephen's disappearance. And for once, it seemed that Lynn wasn't up for sharing.

Jayne wanted to know what her problem was. She wanted to help her. But she couldn't bring herself to ask anymore questions.

The two of them fell into comfortable silence, Lynn still hunched over her laptop, and Jayne opening another newspaper.

* * *

Dean was tired and irritated. If he had to look through one more of these goddamn record books, he was going to lose his freaking mind! Seriously, he was starting to think there were no dead Marys in town period, regardless of whether or not they had died in front of a mirror. He was starting to get pissed.

He glanced over at his sleeping younger brother, and then returned to the book in his lap. Sam was stretched out on his bed, and even though he wasn't thrashing about in the throes of night terrors, Dean was pretty damn sure he was having a nightmare.

His fears were confirmed when Sam awoke with a start. Dean looked up from his book. "Why'd you let me fall asleep?" Sam asked.

"Because I'm an awesome brother," Dean replied. "What'd you dream about?"

Sam settled back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. "Lollipops and candy canes," he retorted.

"Yeah, sure," Dean said. He wished his brother would just admit there was something wrong with him and let him help. It worried him to no end that Sam kept having these nightmares and losing sleep. The kid was going to kill himself if he kept this up.

"Did you find anything?"

"Oh, besides a whole new level of frustration? No." Dean gestured helplessly at the books on the desk. "I've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Katherine, committed suicide in front of a mirror. And a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave. But no Mary."

Sam sighed heavily and threw himself back against the mattress. "Maybe we just haven't found it yet."

"I've also been searching for strange deaths in the area," Dean continued. "There's nothing. Whatever's happening, maybe it just isn't Mary."

Suddenly, Sam's cell rang. "Hello?" he answered it tiredly.

Dean watched with concern as Sam's face transformed from sleepy to almost panicked. "Whoa, whoa, calm down, Charlie. Tell me what happened."

There was a long pause that Sam spent most of nodding solemnly. Every time Sam nodded, Dean felt himself get more and more anxious. He was practically itching to get out of that goddamn miserable motel room. "All right. Hold on, we're going to come talk to you. Yeah, that's fine. Stay there."

Sam hung up the phone and got swiftly to his feet. "We have to go. That Charlie girl just called and said her friend Jill died in front of her bathroom mirror last night."

"I'm on it. Let's roll," Dean replied, leaping up as well and grabbing his jacket.

The two hunters marched out of the motel room and headed towards the car. Sam stopped suddenly. "Hey," he said. "Maybe we should go ask Lynn and Jayne if they want to come with us."

Dean stopped and gave his little brother an incredulous look. "What? Why?"

Sam gave a slight chuckle and shrugged. "I don't know, I just… Lynn's pretty good at dealing with hysterical women. Might come in handy."

The elder Winchester thought that over for a moment. At least, he pretended to think that over. Because actually, he already knew that he wanted absolutely no part of the two stepsisters or their possible ability to help. "No."

"I'm asking."

"You don't even know what room they're in!"

"Well, then I'll ask at the front desk!"

"Sammy, we don't have the time for this!"

"Sure we do," Sam replied. Then he turned on his heel and disappeared inside the motel lobby.

Dean sighed in exasperation. Why him?

* * *

Sam jogged down the hall until he reached the door with the correct room number on it. He came to a stop and took a deep breath, staring rather nervously at the door.

What was he doing here, he asked himself. Why did he want Lynn and Jayne to work this job with him and Dean so bad? It was strange. Now that he had worked the last two jobs with the stepsisters by his side, he had just become used to having them there. It was like they were a permanent fixture on their hunts. Working the job without them was suddenly weirder than hunting with them.

Just knock already, Sam thought to himself. Quickly, before some maid or guest walks by and labels you a pervert. Or worse, Jayne or Lynn opens the door and finds you lurking outside their motel room.

Taking yet another deep, steadying breath, Sam lifted his fist and knocked on the door.

After a minute, the door slowly opened, and Lynn's head poked out into the hallway. "Sam?" she frowned at him.

"Yeah, hey," he said, giving her a rather awkward smile.

Lynn raised her eyebrow. "Hey," she said back. "What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, um… well, I just thought…" he swallowed. Since when did he not know how to speak to Lynn? "Dean and I are going to go talk to this girl named Charlie," he explained. "And, um… we think whatever it is we're hunting killed her friend. So, I was wondering if you wanted to come with us."

Lynn stared at him. "You were?"

"Yep," Sam replied. He really wished she would stop looking at him like that. He was starting to feel like an idiot.

"Why?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, I just… this girl sounds pretty upset, and I remembered how good you were with Amanda, the flight attendant. I thought maybe you could help us talk to her."

Lynn stared at him a little bit more. Then she slowly nodded. "Ok," she murmured. "Um… yeah. We'll come."

"Good," Sam smiled.

Lynn smiled back. "Let me go get Jayne. We'll be out in a minute."

He nodded. Lynn went back inside and shut the door.

Sam found himself standing awkwardly out in the hall once again. He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and tried to appear casual. Lynn's voice could be heard very faintly from behind the door.

"What?" Jayne's voice was muffled, but he could still make out every word. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm not going anywhere with those two!"

Lynn's voice came again, this time with a note of impatience in it. Sam still couldn't make out what she was saying. "No!" Jayne exclaimed.

"Yes!" Lynn snapped.

There was a few more seconds of muffled argument that Sam couldn't quite understand. He felt like he ought to whistle or something. Finally, the door opened. Lynn appeared in the doorway, wearing a rather forced smile. Jayne stood beside her, looking grumpy.

"You guys ready?" Sam asked, trying not to let on that he'd heard any of their argument.

"Yep," Lynn replied brightly.

Jayne grunted.

"Great," Sam said, trying his best to sound enthusiastic. "Let's go."

* * *

"And… and they found her on the bathroom floor," Charlie choked out, rocking back and forth on the park bench with tears running down her cheeks.

Sam stood before her, frowning with sympathy. Jayne leaned on the tree behind the bench, her arms crossed in front of her. On one side of the sobbing teenager sat Dean, perched on the back of the bench, listening intently to her story. On the other side was Lynn, sitting directly beside the young girl and comfortingly rubbing her back.

"And her eyes," Charlie sobbed. "Her eyes were… they were gone!"

"I'm sorry," Sam murmured.

"It's got to be hard," Lynn added, still rubbing the girl's back. "Losing a friend like that… I understand what you're going through."

It was a stretch, of course. Having your best friend mutilated in her very own bathroom by an urban legend wasn't exactly the same thing as having your little brother go missing, probably of his own accord. Still, Lynn liked to think the situations were similar enough that her statement couldn't be considered a lie.

"And she said it!" Charlie exclaimed. "I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that." She turned her big wet brown eyes up at the four hunters surrounding her, looking at each one of them desperately, searching for reassurance. "I'm insane, right?"

"No, you're not insane," Dean told her.

"Oh god, that makes me feel so much worse," she whispered.

There was a silence. Lynn's hand kept moving up and down Charlie's back. The gesture seemed to comfort the young girl. "Look," Sam said quietly. "We think there's something going on here. Something that can't be explained."

"And we're going to stop it," Dean added. "But we could use your help."

Charlie looked up at the two boys staring down at her. Then she turned to look at Lynn. Lynn gave her a reassuring smile. "Ok," she agreed. "What do you need me to do?"

* * *

"We're going to get caught," Lynn announced.

"No, we're not. Stop saying that," Dean fairly growled.

"We are _so_ going to get caught," she replied. "This isn't exactly inconspicuous, you know."

All four hunters were crouched down on the roof of Charlie's friend Jill's house, waiting outside Jill's bedroom window for Charlie to let them in. "I wish Charlie would hurry up," Sam murmured nervously, glancing around at the street below.

"I know. Me too," Lynn agreed. "We're going to get caught."

Jayne rolled her eyes. "You're so paranoid," she grumbled.

Lynn gave her a nasty look. "I'm just saying…"

"Yeah, well, if we do get caught it's on your head," Jayne continued to grumble. "This was all your idea. 'Let's help them, let's go talk to this girl, I want to hunt Bloody Mary, I mean really, how many hunters get to hunt Bloody Fucking Mary….'"

"Shut up," Lynn snapped, smacking her stepsister in the shoulder.

The window suddenly slid open to reveal a frantic Charlie waving at them to get inside. The four of them glanced around them to make sure they weren't being watched and then hopped on inside.

"What did you tell Jill's mom?" Sam asked, starting to unpack the duffle they'd brought along.

"I just told her I needed some time alone with Jill's pictures and things," Charlie replied quietly. "God, I hate lying to her."

"Trust us, it's for the greater good," Dean returned, closing the curtains. "Hit the lights."

Charlie rushed off to do exactly that as Sam and Dean hunched over their equipment. "Night vision?" Lynn asked, sounding rather excited.

"You know it," Dean replied.

"Man, I wish we would have brought our stuff," Lynn murmured regretfully.

"Nerd," Jayne announced.

"You should bow down and worship me for being such a nerd," Lynn retorted. "Without my nerdiness, where would you be? What's that? Up shit creek without a paddle? Yeah. That's what I thought."

"I don't need you," Jayne snorted.

"So need me. Can't live without me."

Jayne rolled her eyes and started poking around the room. Sam finally got the night vision turned on the camera. "Hey," Dean asked him with a smirk. "Do I look like Paris Hilton?"

Both Sam and Charlie looked at him in a manner that clearly said, 'Dude, you're not funny.' Dean sobered and walked away from them.

"So, I don't get it. The first victim didn't summon Mary, but the second one did," Sam announced, opening the closet door and running the view finder of his night vision camera over the full length mirror. "I mean, how is she choosing them?"

Dean shrugged, walking around the room and waving his EMF reader over everything. "Beats me. I want to know why Jill said it in the first place."

He glanced over his shoulder and gave Charlie a rather harsh look. She shrugged. "It was just a joke," she replied.

"Yeah, well, someone's going to say it again," Dean went on. "It's just a matter of time."

Sam made his way to the bathroom. Lynn followed him. "What do you think you're going to find, exactly?" she asked.

Sam shrugged, still staring down at the viewfinder. "Don't know exactly." He ran the camera over the bathroom mirror. "I'll know it when I see it."

Lynn sighed, clutching her purse against her side. "So, uh… how did whatever you were doing earlier work out?" Sam asked cautiously.

Lynn blinked at him. "What are you talking about?"

He shrugged. "I don't know… you said you were busy earlier when I asked you to help with the case."

Was it her imagination, or did he seem nervous? It had to be her imagination. Sam seemed like the kind of guy who could turn awkward the moment the situation took a turn for the unexpected or unprepared for, but this wasn't exactly that sort of situation, now was it? He had no reason to be nervous around her… unless he reciprocated some of those feelings Lynn was starting to get about him. And he simply couldn't reciprocate any of those feelings – it wasn't practical to expect it. He loved a dead girl.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, still trying to focus on the viewfinder. Lynn shrugged back at him. "Things didn't exactly go according to plan," she replied. "But hey. I'm starting to get used to that."

A small smile formed on his face and he gave a short a chuckle. Then he frowned and stopped, staring into the viewfinder. "What?" Lynn asked.

"Look at that," Sam murmured, pointing down at the camera.

Lynn joined him at the bathroom sink, with her shoulder pressed against his arm, and stared down into the viewfinder. She frowned. "What is that stuff?"

There was some sort of white residue on the wall beneath the mirror. It looked like something had dripped down from behind the mirror and dried on the wall.

Sam turned around. "Hey, Dean!" he called. "We have a black light in the trunk, right?"

"Oh!" Lynn called, excited. She dug into her purse and pulled out a small battery-operated black light. "I've got one!"

Everyone in the room stared at her like she was crazy. Jayne raised her eyebrow at her stepsister. "Nerd," she said again.

"Shut up," Lynn snapped. She turned to Sam and found him staring at her with a small, amused smile on his face. "What?"

"Nothing," he said as innocently as possible. "You, uh…" he cleared his throat. "You carry a black light in your purse?"

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't look at me like I'm some kind of weirdo," she retorted. "It's been in here since the last hunt Jayne and I worked solo. I forgot to take it out."

Sam nodded slowly. "Right. Ok, then."

Lynn pursed her lips. "You know what…"

"Whatever," Dean interrupted rather rudely. "All I care about is that you saved me a trip out to the car."

Lynn frowned at him. Sam took the mirror down off the bathroom wall and it carried over to the bed. He laid it facedown and pulled out a knife, cutting the brown paper on the back open. Lynn tossed him the black light and he turned it on, running it over the back of the mirror. In the soft blue glow of the black light, a hand print was visible on the surface, and the name 'Gary Bryman.'

"Gary Bryman," Charlie read aloud.

"You know who that is?" Sam asked her.

Charlie shook her head. "No."

The four hunters exchanged looks. That meant one thing and one thing only: research.

* * *

Jayne sighed under her breath and sprawled out on the grass. She should have known better than to trust Lynn's word when it came to the Winchesters. The girl was smitten. Whatever resolve she'd had the day before not to get involved with the brothers or their hunt had disappeared the moment Sam had come knocking on their door, blinking at her with his puppy dog eyes, and asked her to help him talk to some scared little chicklet.

A scared little chicklet that was total jailbait, by the way, and yet there was Dean Winchester still chatting her up on the park bench. Maybe not as aggressively as he'd been chatting up Haley Collins back in Lost Creek, but it was enough to make Jayne want to puke. Who the hell did he think he was anyway, God's gift to women? She'd seen better. Maybe. No, she was sure she had. She just couldn't remember when at the moment…

Whatever. It wasn't important. Dean kept up his intent conversation with Charlie and Jayne ignored them both. She glanced over at the building Lynn and Sam had disappeared into and was surprised to see them already returning to where the other three were sitting in wait.

Well, there was the upside to working with the Winchesters, she supposed. Between her sister the nerd and Sam, who apparently was also pretty geeky when it came to the research thing, the boring parts of the hunts were over much quicker than they were when it was just Jayne and Lynn haunting the library.

"So, Gary Bryman was an eight year old boy," Sam announced, not bothering with silly formalities like saying 'hi, we're back.' Jayne couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Two years ago he was killed in a hit and run. The car was described as a black Toyota Camry. No one saw the driver."

"Oh my God," Charlie gasped.

The other four looked up at her with interest. "What is it?" Lynn asked.

"Jill drove that car," she said.

Jayne raised her eyebrow. Huh. That was an interesting turn of events.

"We have to get back to Donna's house," Dean announced.

* * *

Sam's only thought at the moment was, Shit. This isn't going well at all.

Charlie had miraculously managed to get the four of them inside Donna's house. Points for quick thinking, Sam thought to himself, as he recalled her cover story. The four of them were police investigators, from forensics, and they were double checking for signs of foul play. Apparantly a doctor at the morgue had decided that there wasn't enough medical evidence to suggest there had been a stroke, so the police department was just going over everything a second time to set the worried doc at ease.

Sam had a feeling Charlie watched a little too much CSI.

Donna had seemed annoyed - and who could blame her, really? Sam supposed it would be difficult to have cops coming in and out of her house, asking her personal questions, and picking at the fresh scab over the mark of her father's death. But as much as he sympathized, that didn't make the hunt any less important, and it didn't mean he could ignore what they'd found on the back of the bathroom mirror.

There had been another handprint there, and the name 'Linda Shumaker.'

Immediately, the four hunters had marched down the steps and began asking Donna questions - about her father, her mother, her parents' marriage...

Now, Donna no longer looked annoyed. She looked confused, irate, and mildly offended. "Why are you asking me all this?" she demanded.

Automatically, Sam looked over at Lynn. After all, she was the one who was good at this stuff. She could connect with the victim like no other. But even Lynn seemed hesitant about dealing with Donna.

"I know this must be rough," she attempted, placing a comforting hand on Donna's arm. Donna looked at the hand like she wanted to bite it off at the wrist. "Losing both your parents, and at such a young age. I know you won't beleive me when I say this, but I really do understand what you're going through. I've been through it myself. And I know how upset I got at the people who were trying to help my family. But I have to ask you not to get upset with us, Donna. We need to understand who Linda Shumaker was, and what happened to her in order to take the next step in this case."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Jayne gag silently. He barely managed not to laugh. Yeah, sometimes Lynn could over do it.

Donna stared at Lynn, and her expression wasn't friendly. Sam would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so important. It seemed the grieving teenage girl was immune to Lynn's charm. Finally, an upset young woman that Lynn couldn't get to open up.

"Yeah," the girl said hostilely. "Linda's my mom, ok? And she overdosed on sleeping pills. It was an accident, and that's it."

There was a pause. Lynn opened her mouth to say something else, but Donna cut her off. "I think you should leave," she announced.

"Wait, Donna, just listen..." Dean began, but Donna interrupted him too.

"Just get out of my house!" she shouted, storming into the kitchen.

Sam sighed. What could they do? If they stayed one moment longer, then Donna was justified in calling the cops.

"Oh my God," Charlie murmured beside him. "Do you really think her dad could have killed her mom?"

"Maybe," Sam replied.

"I think I should stick around," Charlie said.

"All right," Dean agreed. "Just, whatever you do..."

"Dont worry," Charlie interrupted him. "I won't say it."

* * *

Dean was fed up.

He'd had it. Something was going on in this town, something deadly and something supernatural. And he was positive it had something to do with the Bloody Mary legend.

And he was going to stop it.

Which is why, when the four hunters collected in the Winchester's motel room, he turned on Sam's laptop and announced he was going to do a nationwide search.

There had been a bit of a silence. "What?" Sam had asked.

"I'm doing a nationwide search for any Mary that died in front of a mirror," Dean repeated slowly, as if talking to the extremely dim-witted. Then he returned to the laptop.

As he searched, he noticed Sam get up from his seat on the bed and start pacing. He looked confused, and he looked like he had something he wanted to say. Dean rolled his eyes. Whatever Sam wanted to say, he could just spit out. Dean didn't care. He wasn't going to pay any attention to him until he'd finished his research.

But Sam's computer had decided to choose tonight to be slow. Dean leaned back in his desk chair as he waited for it to load and thought dreamily about what he'd so much rather be doing. He'd given anything for a six pack and a sexy young woman to, uh... pass the time with.

But no. Dean didn't get a six pack or a bar hag. Dean got research and an impossible hunt. He got frustration and annoyance and exhaustion. Story of his life.

Although he did have two young women assisting him in this case. And a rather attractive young ally who was pretty close with the victims.

Charlie was out of the question, legally speaking. The girl was still in high school, after all. At least, he thought she was. Sorry, sweetheart, come back when you're eighteen.

But Lynn, on the other hand, was twenty-four, if he remembered the dates on her driver's license correctly, and pretty damn hot. Black hair, brown eyes, tan skin, long fingernails... big pouty lips. And the curves... oh, man, the curves.

As he watched her discreetly from the corner of his eye, he saw her shift on the bed and arch her back. Damn.

Then, she crossed her legs and spared a glance at Sam. Sam was determinedly staring at their hunting wall, which was covered in newspaper clippings and other such crap. He wouldn't even turn around to appreciate the fine piece of work who was lounging on the bed behind him and... staring at his ass?

Since when did sexy young women stare at _Sam's_ ass? She was supposed to be staring at his!

Dean felt mild disappointment. Lynn was clearly in to Sam. And he knew from personal observation that his brother liked her as well. Which meant no Puerto Rican sex goddess for Dean. Damn it.

And it was such a waste, too. Sam was so caught up in his... Sam stuff... that there was no way he would ever pick up on the fact that Lynn liked him... and if he did, he would never do anything about it. What an idiot.

He glanced lazily over at Jayne, horribly neglecting his research. Well, if Lynn was interested in Sam, maybe he could try Jayne. True, they didn't seem to be getting along at the moment, but a lot of times angry sex was better than normal sex. And he supposed she was sort of attractive. Blond hair, gray eyes... she was really tall. He glanced at her legs. Underneath the old faded blue jeans, he was sure they were long, sexy legs. And even if she was wearing a baggy flannel shirt, he could tell that she had some decent curves too... not Lynn-style curves, but not bad either.

Whoops. She'd noticed him staring at her. "What the hell are _you_ looking at?" she asked rudely.

"Nothing," he retorted, returning to his laptop.

Whatever. He wasn't big on tomboy chicks, anyway.

"So let me get this straight," Sam said suddenly as Dean began printing what he'd found on the laptop. "You're doing a nationwide search?"

"Yep," Dean replied. "The NCIC, the FBI database... at this point, any Mary in the country who died in front of a mirror is good enough for me."

"But if she's haunting the town, then she should have died in the town."

"I'm telling you, there's nothing local. I checked. So unless you've got a better idea..."

"The way Mary's choosing her victims, it seems like there's a pattern."

"I know, I was thinking the same thing."

"With Mr. Shumaker, and Jill's hit and run..."

"Both had secrets where people died."

"So," Lynn put in. "What you're saying is that Mary's been picking off people who have secrets in their lives. But not just any secrets, they have secrets where people died. And, presumably, those deaths were their faults."

"Right," Sam agreed. "It makes sense, actually. There's a lot of old folklore surrounding mirrors. Supposedly, they reveal all your lies, your secrets... they're supposed to be a true reflection of your soul, which is why it's bad luck to break them."

"And if Mary died in front of a mirror, then she'd be able to travel through them because the mirror would have trapped her soul." Lynn said slowly. "Right? Isn't there an old legend about mirrors capturing people's souls? That's why it used to be tradition to cover the mirrors in a house where someone died."

"Yeah, I think that's right," Sam agreed.

"So if Mary's summoned to a mirror," Dean added. "Then she can see all your lies, your secrets... and if you have a particularly nasty one, like one where someone dies, then she..."

"Scratches your eyes out?" Jayne supplied, almost ironically.

"Yeah," Dean murmured. "Exactly."

"Whether you're the one who summoned her or not," Sam finished.

"Ok. Check this out," Dean announced, yanking what he'd just printed out of the printer and handing it to Sam. Jayne and Lynn came up behind Sam and stared at the page over his shoulder. In one hand, Sam held the photo they'd taken of the handprint on the back of Jill's mirror. In the other hand was a picture of a crime scene - one where a murder had taken place. There was a large, old fashioned mirror in the room. A similar handprint was smeared on the mirror in blood.

"Looks like the same handprint," Sam said.

"Her name was Mary Worthington," Dean announced. "An unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana."

The four hunters exchanged looks. "Well," Lynn murmured. "I guess we better go check that out."

* * *


	12. A Long Overdue Explanation

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to winchesterxgirl and guardian music angel for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 12: A Long Overdue Explanation

Jayne didn't know whether she was pissed off or relieved.

The Winchester brothers had left early that morning for Fort Wayne, Indiana. They were going to go talk to the main detective who had worked the Mary Worthington case. They had left Lynn and her behind.

On the one hand, this was a good thing. As far as Jayne knew, Stephen was still in Toledo. Leaving Toledo to go to freaking Indiana? Not the best course of action to take if she wanted to find her little brother. And Jayne _did_ want to find her little brother.

She didn't sleep anymore. She was grumpier than usual. Shorter with other people. He was all she thought about now. Where was he, why was he hiding, why couldn't he talk to her…?

Damn it, Stephen, this just wasn't funny anymore.

On the other hand, of course, Dean and Sam didn't know about any of that. They had no clue that she and her stepsister would want to stay in town in order to keep an eye out for their brother. So, basically, they were just bossing her and Lynn around. Making them stay behind and 'hold down the fort' while they went off and did some manly investigating.

Stupid prigs.

Jayne sighed heavily and glanced over at Lynn, who was engrossed in the TV set. "Guess what's on TV," Lynn practically gushed.

"What?" Jayne asked grumpily.

"One of my favs."

"Are you watching AMC again? Or TCM?"

"It's a Marilyn Monroe flick…"

"Gag."

"You can't hate every movie she ever made."

"Sure I can."

"It's _Some Like It Hot_."

Jayne paused and considered that. "Is that the movie with the two guys who dress like chicks and join that band?"

"Yep."

She shrugged and took a seat on her bed, preparing to watch some TV. "All right, I guess I can watch for ten minutes or so."

Lynn snorted at her. They sat there for a short while, watching the movie. Eventually, they came to a commercial break, and Lynn started booting up her laptop.

"What are you doing?" Jayne asked.

"Checking up on Stephen," Lynn replied.

Jayne nodded and returned to the TV. A few minutes passed, and the movie started up again.

"Oh my God," Lynn murmured.

That got Jayne's attention. She turned from the TV immediately and stared at her stepsister. "What?" she asked, sounding almost anxious. "What? What is it?"

"Stephen moved," Lynn whispered.

Jayne's eyes widened. Suddenly, she was on her feet. "Where? Where is he? Where'd he go?"

Lynn just kept staring at the laptop monitor, her mouth hanging wide open, shaking her head back and forth. "I can't believe this," she said faintly.

Jayne was two seconds away from packing up the Nissan. "What? What can't you believe?"

Slowly, Lynn tore her eyes from the screen and looked up at her stepsister. "Stephen's in Fort Wayne, Indiana."

Jayne stared at her stepsister. There was a long silence. In the background, both stepsisters were barely aware that there was a movie playing on the TV. Marilyn Monroe's tinkling laugh floated out from the speakers. For possibly the first time ever, the blonde starlet was ignored. The two stepsisters just stared at one another, completely silent. A horrible tension began to fill the room.

Finally, Jayne broke the silence. "Fort Wayne, Indiana?" she repeated quietly.

Lynn nodded.

Jayne stood still for a moment longer, her eyes fixed on an undeterminable point on the floor. Then, suddenly, her foot swung out and she kicked the wall.

"Jayne!" Lynn exclaimed. "You left a big black mark! Why do you always have to destroy things when you're mad?"

"This is impossible. This is ridiculous," Jayne muttered almost feverishly, pacing the room. "How could this happen?"

Lynn shook her head. "I don't know."

Jayne stopped her pacing rather abruptly. Then suddenly she turned and raced to the table. "Jayne?" Lynn asked uncertainly.

Jayne snatched up her keys and marched towards the door. Lynn was on her feet like a flash. "Where are you going?" Lynn exclaimed, following her out the door.

"Going to Fort Wayne," Jayne replied shortly.

"No!" Lynn shouted, jogging to keep up with Jayne's long legged pace. "Jayne, we need to stay put."

Jayne stopped short and spun around to face Lynn. Lynn winced and barely stopped herself from taking a step back. The expression on her stepsister's face was murderous. "Stay put?" she asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Lynn raised her chin almost heroically. "Yes," she replied. "Jayne, if we…"

"Stay put?!" she thundered. "Do what _they_ told us to?! Why the _hell_ would I do that?!"

Lynn winced under her sister's fury. "Jayne, listen to me…"

"No!" she shouted. "No! Listen to _you_? _You_ listen to _me_! What the hell are you thinking, Lynn? They… they… they did something… something to him… they…"

"I know," Lynn interrupted. "You're right."

Jayne blinked at her stepsister. "What?"

"You're right," Lynn repeated. "You think I don't know you're right? This is no longer coincidental. It's no longer innocent. And I don't trust those boys as far as I can throw them – which, believe you me, ain't that far."

Jayne blinked again. "Wait… I'm confused."

"You think I'm an idiot?" Lynn pressed. "You go rushing off to Fort Wayne now we've got way less chance of meeting up with them again. They'll suspect something's off. We know they're coming back here when they're done interviewing the detective. So when they come back, we'll be waiting. And then…"

She trailed off and smirked. Jayne didn't smirk back. But she did seem to calm down. "Wait for them here," she murmured.

Lynn nodded. "Yep."

Jayne nodded back. "All right. We'll wait," she said. "But when they get here…"

"You better believe it."

The two stepsisters stood there in the parking lot and stared at one another for a moment. There was an evil little smirk on Lynn's face. Jayne's own expression was stony, and her jaw was set in a firm, grim line.

"Well," Jayne said finally, without cracking a smile. "Maybe we're related after all."

Lynn's little smirk broadened.

Suddenly, Lynn's cell phone rang. Quickly, she dug the phone out of her pocket and glanced at the caller ID. "Who is it?" Jayne asked.

Lynn frowned. "I don't know… Charlie, maybe? Sam gave her my number just in case something happened while they were gone."

"Are you going to answer it?"

Lynn flipped the phone open and put it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Lynn? This is Charlie."

Lynn frowned. It was Charlie's voice, all right. And she sounded terrified. She was clearly crying.

"I… I… Donna said it," she whispered.

"Is she all right?" Lynn demanded.

"Yes, yes, she's fine, but… but I… I… oh, god, I saw her… in the mirror…"

Lynn's eyes widened. This was bad. "Ok, Charlie, where are you?"

"M…m… my car. The high school parking lot."

The car? What was she, an idiot? "All right, Charlie, I need you to not look at anything with a reflection. Can you do that? Can you keep your eyes closed?"

"Y…y… yes."

"All right, now stay put," Lynn said soothingly. "It's going to be all right. Jayne and I are coming to get you. Ok?"

"Ok."

Lynn hung up and turned to Jayne. "Donna said Bloody Mary," she announced. "And now the crazy bitch is after Charlie."

Jayne sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. "Great," she drawled sarcastically. "Why do we always have to save everyone?"

* * *

Charlie sat on Lynn's bed, hugging her knees to her chest, and rocking slowly back and forth. The curtains had been drawn, and Lynn and Jayne had been draping jackets, blankets, and anything else they could get their hands on over anything with a reflective surface. Now that they were finished, Lynn sat beside Charlie on the bed. "It'll be all right," she murmured soothingly. "We're not going to let her get you. You just need to stay here, right on this bed, and don't look at anything that shows your reflection. All right, Charlie?"

Charlie nodded numbly. "For how long?"

"Until we figure something out. Find a way to kill her."

Charlie nodded again. "Ok."

Lynn glanced over at Jayne, who was leaning against the wall by the window, gazing out through a slight crack in the curtain. "Jayne and I are going to go out into the parking lot," she said carefully. "We'll be right back. Stay put, and if you need anything, yell."

Charlie nodded. Lynn got up and walked to the door, opening it and stepping outside. Jayne followed her and closed the door behind her.

"All right," Lynn said quietly. "I know I said we'd get the Winchesters. And we will. But in the meantime… what are we going to do about Charlie? We can't let her die."

Jayne nodded her agreement. "I know," she murmured. "And we won't. We'll find a way to help her. But as far as Sam and Dean go… they're dead, Lynn. And I do mean that literally."

Lynn sighed. "I don't want to believe it," she said suddenly. "They… they were so… Sam seemed…"

"Do not let your puppy dog crush interfere on this one, Lynn," Jayne interrupted, her tone no-nonsense. "He lied. They both lied. And we're going to get the truth out of them no matter what it takes."

"I know," Lynn replied determinedly. "I know. My crush _won't_ interfere." She frowned suddenly. "And by the way, I don't have a crush."

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe not anymore."

Lynn sighed, and leaned back against the pole supporting the canopied outdoor hallway. Suddenly her phone rang.

Jayne raised an eyebrow at her stepsister. "Popular today, aren't we?"

Lynn fished the phone out of her pants pocket and checked the caller ID. She looked up at Jayne. "It's Sam," she said.

"Answer it," Jayne returned shortly.

Lynn did as commanded. "Sam?"

"Hey, Lynn. Dean and I are on our way back."

"Yeah?" Lynn asked, almost cautiously. "What'd you find out?"

"Well, the detective thought Mary had been murdered by an ex-lover because she threatened to tell his wife about their affair. Seemed to think it was a surgeon that lived in town. Get this: he actually said he believed that Mary spent her last moments trying to expose this guy for what he really was. She tried to write his name on the mirror in blood."

"Wow," Lynn murmured, trying to sound sincere. She and Jayne were sharing a strange look. "That seems to fit the bill, huh?"

"It gets better. I tracked down the mirror that Mary died next to. It was sold to an antiques dealer… in Toledo."

"Well, there you go," Lynn said, trying to sound happy about this turn of events. "That explains everything, right?"

"Just about, except how to stop her. Turns out she was cremated. We're trying to work out a theory."

"Great. Jayne and I will put our heads together and try to figure something out too. When are you coming back in town?"

"Another hour or so. Hey, are you all right? You sound… different."

"Me?" Lynn forced a laugh. "I'm fine. Charlie's not, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Donna said Bloody Mary in the mirror. Now Mary's going after Charlie."

Sam sighed into the phone. "Oh, no. We'll be back as soon as we can, all right?"

"Sounds good," Lynn replied, a rather ugly sneer appearing on her pretty face.

Sam couldn't see that sneer, of course. "Talk to you soon."

"Bye Sam."

Lynn hung up the phone. "They'll be here in an hour," she announced.

Jayne nodded. "Let's check the tracker."

The two filed back inside. Charlie was curled up on the bed, apparently asleep. Lynn sat down before her laptop and maximized the window. A heavy sigh escaped her lips and she shook her head.

"Stephen's shown as being an hour's drive away from here. Heading from Fort Wayne," she announced.

Jayne nodded grimly. "Well, I think we know what we have to do."

Lynn's expression was somber. "Yep."

"I think I'll wait outside," Jayne announced. Before Lynn could protest, she was gone.

Lynn sighed and glanced over at the sleeping Charlie. Things just seemed to keep getting better and better, didn't they?

She felt so betrayed. The reason was obvious. She was hurt because Sam had been the bad guy all along. Her brother's disappearance apparently _was_ connected to the Winchesters. Lynn felt like such an idiot. She'd actually thought there was something resembling a connection between her and Sam. She'd actually thought there was a chance that Sam might like her… and more than as a friend. She'd actually believed all that ridiculous crap about his dead girlfriend…

But the demon had said that, not Sam. Maybe that part was true.

Maybe what Sam had said later wasn't, though.

Maybe the reason Sam hadn't wanted to talk about what happened to Jessica Moore was because he hadn't wanted to admit that _he_ had killed her.

Lynn sighed and rubbed her forehead. All the good ones are either gay or taken, she thought to herself. The rest of them are evil… literally.

* * *

Dean pulled the Impala into the motel parking lot. It was getting dark, and he was tired from being on the road for so long. Sam sat beside him, peering curiously out the window. "Hey," his little brother said suddenly. "Is that Jayne out there?"

Dean squinted in the same direction. Jayne was in fact sitting in the bed of her pickup truck. There was something about the scene that oddly suited her. Her hair was twisted off to the side in its usual careless braid, she was wrapped up in a flannel shirt, and she just looked as though she belonged there.

She had her phone pressed to her ear and she was staring right at them. The look on her face was not friendly. It was even more unfriendly than usual, actually.

Despite the unsettled feeling that settled over Dean right away, he chuckled and said, "Looks like someone missed us. All the ladies want a piece of the Winchesters."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude, shut up."

He pulled the car into a parking space and shut off the ignition. As his headlights flicked off, Jayne jumped down from the bed of the pickup, hanging up her cell phone. She strode purposefully towards their car. As she came closer, the door to their motel room swung open and Lynn stepped out into the harsh lighting of the parking lot.

"Hey, Goldilocks," Dean announced, his arms spread wide and a smirk on his face. "Miss me already, huh?"

Jayne shoved roughly past him and walked right up to his car. Suddenly sensing malice, Dean began to fear for his baby. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

Jayne ignored him and began to kneel by his car. Dean grabbed her by the arm and pulled her roughly back up. "Get away from my freaking car!" he exclaimed.

He wasn't entirely prepared for what happened next. Jayne's fist flew out of left field and connected with his jaw. Sudden pain shot through the lower part of his face, and he stumbled backwards, letting go of her arm and nearly plummeting to the pavement below.

"Jayne!" Sam exclaimed, shocked.

She ignored him, threw herself onto the ground, and slid right underneath the car.

"What the hell…? You unbelievable _bitch_!" Dean shouted. He righted himself, and wiped blood from his lip. "I'll kill her!"

"You take one more step towards my stepsister and I'll shoot you."

Both Sam and Dean looked up in surprise. "Lynn?" Sam asked uncertainly.

She stood in front of them with her legs slightly apart, training a gun steadily at their heads. "You heard me," she returned evenly.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean demanded angrily.

"Why don't you tell us?" Lynn snapped.

Sam stared nervously at the gun and spared Jayne an uneasy glance. The elder of the two stepsisters was still sprawled beneath the Impala. "Look, I'm not really sure what's going on here, but I think you need to put the gun down."

"I think you need to tell us why you keep showing up wherever we do," Lynn retorted. "And this time Sam, try the truth. Or eat a bullet."

Suddenly, they heard a grunt from Jayne as she wrenched something out from under Dean's car. A definite snapping, electric sound filled the air. "What the hell are you doing to my car?" Dean exploded, rushing at her.

Jayne was already on her feet. As Dean came at her, she hauled off and threw whatever had been in her hand directly at his head. It hit him square in the temple and he nearly toppled over for a second time that night. "What the fuck?" he shouted into the night air.

Sam bent down and picked up the round little piece of technology. "Huh," he murmured thoughtfully. "Dean, this isn't a part of your car."

Frowning, Dean glanced down at the warped piece of metal in Sam's outstretched palm. "You're right," he agreed. "What the hell is that?"

"What the hell is that?!" Jayne shouted at him. There was more than anger in her voice; there was a frightening desperation that made both Dean and Sam glad Lynn was in charge of the gun. "Don't you pull that shit on me, Winchester!"

Both Dean and Sam stared at her, unsure how to respond. "Why is that on your car!" she demanded loudly and angrily, her eyes wide with an undeniably terrifying anger… and, strangely enough, shining as though she might shed tears. "Why?! Where did you get it?!"

Neither Dean nor Sam had an answer for that. They'd honestly never seen that thing in their lives.

"What did you do!?" she shouted. "What?!"

They stared at her. "If you don't tell us right now…!"

"Jayne," Lynn interrupted quietly.

Jayne turned on her stepsister. Sam and Dean spared her a glance as well. Oddly enough, she was frowning in confusion as she studied the boys' bewildered expressions. The cold anger had left her eyes. "Jayne," she said again. "I don't think they know."

"Bull!" Jayne snapped.

"Look at them, Jayne," Lynn murmured. "They've never seen that thing before in their life. Hell, I bet they don't even know what it is."

"They're liars. Good ones," Jayne returned. "I swear, if you hurt one hair on his head, I'll kill you. I'll kill you both. You'll be sorry you were even born by the time I'm done with you, you sorry, sick bastards."

"Jayne, stop," Lynn said. "I'm serious. They look totally lost."

Jayne snorted. "You stop, Lynn. You can't seriously be this gullible."

"All right, look," Sam spoke up, holding up his hands in a surrendering, soothing fashion. "You have to believe us. We have no idea what you're talking about. I don't even know what this thing is, and the last thing I'd be able to tell you is how it ended up under the Impala."

Jayne glowered at him. Then suddenly, she charged Sam and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pinning him up against the Impala. "Don't lie," she snarled.

"Don't you touch him!" Dean shouted at her, rushing to help his little brother. The sound of Lynn cocking her pistol stopped him cold.

"Move and I shoot," she announced.

Dean didn't move. He stood still, glaring at Lynn as if she disgusted him. Every so often, his eyes would flicker worriedly over to his little brother.

"Jayne, let him go," Lynn murmured.

"Not a chance in Hell," Jayne replied.

"Jayne…"

"No, damn it!" she shouted, slamming Sam against the car a second time. Dean tensed, looking ready to leap at Jayne and tear her to pieces. "No!"

"Jayne, stop it!" Lynn exclaimed. "Can't you see he doesn't know? I think we've been tricked."

"Tricked?" Jayne spat. Her eyes never left Sam's face. "Oh, we've been tricked all right."

"Jayne…."

"Where is my brother?!" she shouted at Sam.

Sam's eyes widened in shock. Then, sudden understanding enveloped him and he turned his eyes on Lynn. "Your brother," he murmured. At that moment, everything began to make sense to him.

Lynn lowered the gun and tucked it back into her jeans. Slowly, she approached Sam and Jayne and placed a gentle hand on her stepsister's arm. "Let him go, Jayne," she whispered. "Please, let him go."

There was a long tense silence as Jayne glared at the young man in front of her. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she released Sam's collar and took a step back. The glare stayed stuck on her face.

Suddenly, Jayne swiveled and kicked Dean's car. There was a loud clunk. Dean was suddenly rushed at her, furious. "Don't you dare touch my baby!" he thundered.

"Jayne!" Lynn exclaimed disapprovingly.

Dean grabbed a hold of Jayne's arm, and yanked her towards him, shoving her up against the car. There was fury in his face. Jayne tore her arm loose from his grip and threw all her weight into the mighty shove she gave Dean in the chest. He stumbled back away from her. Jayne turned from all three of them and stormed back to the motel. The door to the girls' motel room flew open and swung viciously into the exterior wall. Then it slammed loudly behind her.

Dean had half a mind to follow her and make her pay for the malicious damage she had inflicted upon the only thing he'd ever love. But something stopped him. The look on her face hadn't just been angry – there had been something else. Desperation. Fear. And heartbreak.

"I'm sorry," Lynn whispered, hanging her head. Tears had started to roll down her cheeks.

Sam stared at her. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah," Dean put in, still sounding rather pissed off. "I'd seriously like to know what provoked all that."

Lynn took a deep, shaky breath, and let it out in a long, heavy sigh. Her eyes were big and wet, and little tear drops kept dripping down the side of her face. "Our younger brother… his name is Stephen. Stephen Juarez. He's our… our half brother, I suppose. Jayne's mom married my dad, and then they had him not very long after. He's uh… we've been looking for him. For a long time."

Sam stared at her. There was sympathy on his face. Lynn didn't think she cared for it all that much. "He went missing a while back," she went on in her shaky voice. "For about three weeks. Then he gave us a call, said he didn't know where he was or how he got there… he was scared. He was so scared…"

Lynn swallowed and made herself continue the story. "Anyway, we tracked him down. Tried to figure out where'd he been, or what had happened… nothing. Didn't respond to Holy Water or anything. He wasn't possessed. He wasn't… I don't know. He was just terrified.

"Jayne was so worried, she… well, she convinced me to figure out some sort of tracking device. I had an old boyfriend who had just graduated from tech school, and he helped me set everything up. Jayne had me put the tracker on his car – a bright orange 1970 Plymouth Superbird."

Sam glanced over at Dean. To his surprise, Dean looked startled. There was a thoughtful expression on his face as well, and Sam began to wonder what exactly it was that Dean knew.

Lynn kept telling her story. "Anyway, it was a smart move, because a couple weeks later, he disappeared again. That was about five months ago. We haven't seen or heard from him since. We've been using the tracking device, but… well, you know. Looks like for the past three months we've been following you two around instead."

Silence fell over the three of them. "Anyway, you went to Indiana and I went to check on Stephen, and… well, we put two and two together. Sort of. Actually, we leapt to conclusions about you two that probably weren't exactly fair, but… well, I'm sorry you guys. This whole thing has just been really complicated and difficult and… and, well, it's enough to make us sort of crazy," Lynn finished.

The two brothers exchanged looks. "It's all right," Sam said quietly. "We understand, we really do. I mean, we'd probably do the same thing."

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Dean added sort of awkwardly. He glanced over at his car. "She didn't even scratch my car when she kicked it, so… no harm done, or anything."

Lynn mustered up a tiny, grateful smile. "Thanks, you guys."

She wiped her eyes. Dean kind of shuffled his feet and looked nervously around the parking lot. Finally, he sighed. "Look, Lynn," he announced. "Um… about three, three and a half months ago, I was in Palo Alto, and I saw… I saw a Superbird in the parking lot next to me. It was orange."

Lynn perked. "Did you see the driver?" she asked hopefully.

The look on her face was like a knife in Dean's gut. "Uh… no, sorry," he murmured, even though the last thing he wanted to do was crush her like that.

She looked crestfallen. "Oh."

"I don't get it," Sam said suddenly. "Why would the tracking device end up under our car?"

Lynn shrugged. "I don't know. I'm sure Stephen put it there, though. Don't ask me why he chose your car. I think maybe he found the tracker under the Bird and just wanted to get rid of it so we couldn't find him. For some reason, whatever's going on with Stephen, he doesn't want us to be a part of it." She took a deep breath and shook her head. It was obvious the words hurt her to say. "I just don't understand why," she said softly and sadly. "We've been together for… forever. Jayne and I practically raised that kid, I… we did _everything _for him, and now… now he won't… he won't… I'm sorry, I really am. None of this is your problem. There's no reason for me to lay all my troubles on you guys."

"Don't worry about it," Sam said quietly. "We understand completely."

"We do?" Dean asked.

Sam shot Dean an irritated look over his shoulder and then turned back to Lynn. "We've been looking for someone too."

Dean stared at his brother. "Sam, what the hell are you doing?"

"She told us their secret," Sam replied evenly. "I think we should tell her ours."

"No," Dean retorted. "Sorry, no offense Lynn, but no. Sam, this isn't any of their business. We have nothing to explain to them. We aren't the ones who went psycho and pulled a gun on them… _or_ kicked their car."

The way he said the last sentence about his car was almost comical. Clearly, he was going to hang onto that for a long time. Sam shook his head at his brother's ability to carry a grudge. Then he turned back to Lynn.

"About three months ago," he said. "Our father disappeared. I was at school…"

"Sammy!"

"Dean, I'm telling her," Sam snapped. "And I don't care if you like it or not."

Dean stared at his little brother for a few seconds. Then he shook his head, obviously pissed, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Fine, Sam," he said in a low, angry voice. "You do that. You go ahead and you tell them about every damn skeleton in our closet. Screw the family. Screw Dad. Screw everything, right?"

"They told us," Sam replied. "This way, it's even."

Dean shook his head again. Sam turned away from him and looked down at Lynn, who was frowning in confusion at the both of them. "Wait, so your dad's missing?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Dean came to get me at school. I was at Stanford, so that's how we managed to cross paths with your younger brother. We went looking for him, and then… and then when I got back there was a fire at my apartment. My girlfriend, Jessica, she… she… well…"

Sam took a deep breath. "Look, what I'm about to tell you, I've never told anyone," he announced. "Not even Jessica. But maybe… I don't know, you two are hunters, right? So maybe you or Jayne know what we're talking about."

He paused, as if trying to find the best way to say what he was thinking. Lynn stared at him expectantly. "When I was six months old," he said finally. "There was a fire in my nursery. My… the fire started… unnaturally. We don't know what it was, but we know it was something evil. And… and my mother was pinned to the ceiling, bleeding from the stomach, when suddenly, the whole ceiling burst into flames.

"The house almost completely burned down. My mother burned with it. That's when my dad started hunting. He pretty much raised us on the road. He was determined to get revenge on whatever it was that killed our mother."

Sam paused. "Then about three months ago, it struck again. And this time it… it…"

"Your girlfriend," Lynn interrupted, seeing how difficult it was for Sam to spit out the words. "It killed your girlfriend, Jessica."

Sam nodded. He was silent for a moment. After awhile he began to speak again. "Dean and I have been on the road ever since, trying to find our father. But we haven't had much luck. So far… well… it's kind of like the situation with your brother. We don't think he wants to be found."

Lynn stared at the two of them for a moment. Then she announced, "You two have to come into the motel room right now and tell Jayne what you told me."

Sam blinked. "What?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Tell that story to Jayne," Lynn replied. "I mean… I think… look, we need to tell Jayne. I… just come on."

She turned on her heel and marched towards the motel. Sam glanced over at his brother. Dean gave him a disbelieving look, clearly annoyed. Sam shrugged, and followed Lynn back to the motel.

Dean sighed heavily. Then he too made his way to the stepsister's motel room.

* * *

Jayne stormed into the motel room. "Jayne?" Charlie asked tremulously.

"Sam and Dean are back," she replied shortly. "Just stay where you are."

Charlie stared at her, confused. Jayne ignored her, even though she knew that the scene in the parking lot was not anywhere close to being the young girl's fault. Still, her mind was reeling and she couldn't deal with anything else at the moment.

She stormed into the bathroom, and shut the door heavily behind her. Then she sunk to the tiled floor, her back against the door, and crossed her arms on top of her knees. Her head dropped down against her forearms and she let out a shaky sigh.

One by one, slow and resistant, the tears began to roll down her cheeks. It was absolutely horrible, this feeling of complete and utter helplessness that consumed her as she sat on the bathroom floor, thinking about her lost little brother. All that time they had wasted searching for him, following the Winchesters… he had tricked them. He had ditched them. He didn't want his big sisters around anymore. It didn't matter that they had sacrificed everything their whole lives for him. He was through. He was gone. And there was nothing she could do to help him. Whatever he was going through, he had decided to go through on his own.

The tears fell harder, faster. He could be anywhere by now. How was she supposed to find him? What was she supposed to do?

Her shoulders shook. She was losing everyone around her. What the _hell_ was she supposed to do?

A faint knock came on the bathroom door. Then the door was pushed open ever so slightly. "Jayne?" Charlie's voice filtered in through the crack.

"It's all right, Charlie," Jayne replied calmly. She kept her spot on the floor, out of Charlie's line of vision. There were tears running down her cheeks, but she managed to keep them out of her voice. "Stay out of here, ok? There's a mirror. Go back and sit on the bed."

"Ok," Charlie murmured in a tiny voice. There was a pause. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Jayne returned. "Everything's fine."

"Did something happen?"

"Nope. It's all fine. Just go back out there and wait. I'll be out in a minute. Lynn, Sam, and Dean should be coming inside soon, too."

There was another pause. "Ok," Charlie said finally. Then the door closed and she heard the floor creak under Charlie's weight as she crossed the motel room, and then the groan of the mattress as Charlie sat back down.

Jayne sighed heavily, wiping tears from her eyes. She had to get herself under control. She had to think up a plan.

Leaving Charlie to Bloody Mary was out of the question. But if she and Lynn left right now to look for Stephen, she'd still have the Winchester boys to clean up the mess. Maybe they could go. They could pack up and get out of there. Head back to Palo Alto, or something. She was sure that was the last place Stephen had truly been. Where the tracking device had been switched from the Bird to the Impala. They could ask around for information, try to pick up his scent…

It was a long shot. He'd probably been gone for months now. But it was the best chance they had. Possibly the only chance.

She stood up and checked her reflection in the mirror. Quickly, she splashed some water on her face and dried it carefully. After making sure there were no telltale signs of the tears she'd just shed, she cleared her throat, squared her shoulders, and marched back out into the motel room.

Lynn was already in the room. "Jayne?" she asked softly. "Can you come outside for a moment?"

Jayne narrowed her eyes. "No."

Lynn sighed, looking pained. "Please don't make everything more difficult that it already is."

Jayne stared at her stepsister for a moment. Then she heaved a heavy sigh, and nodded. Lynn held the door open, and Jayne followed her out into the night.

The Winchester brothers were standing outside the motel, leaning against the rail of the exterior hallway. Dean looked annoyed, and Sam looked confused. Lynn looked… excited, maybe?

"Jayne, Sam just told me something I think you need to hear," Lynn announced.

Jayne snorted and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did he now?"

"Yes," Lynn retorted. "Sam and Dean's father disappeared about three months ago. They haven't heard from him since, even though they've been searching for him the whole time. Sound familiar?"

"Yeah," Jayne said shortly. "Sounds like us looking for Stephen. So what have you girls been up to then, swapping sob stories? Relating to one another's problems? Having a healing therapeutic discussion?"

"Jayne, cut the snark," Lynn snapped. "Sam told me something else. He told me that when he was six months old, there was a fire in his nursery. His mother died… pinned to the ceiling."

Her stepsister froze. For whatever reason, Lynn's statement had thrown her off her guard. Dean and Sam frowned at her. Both brothers were overwhelmingly curious at this point. Then, Jayne's face hardened again. "So what?"

"Jayne!" Lynn exclaimed, staring disbelievingly at her stepsister. "What the hell is the matter with you? Are you really this thickheaded? Something killed their mother, Jayne, something supernatural. Their father's been hunting for it all their lives. Do you understand what this means?"

"If I don't, I'm sure you'll tell me."

Lynn huffed, clearly irritated. She turned back to the boys. "When Stephen was six months old, Jayne's mom died exactly the same way."

Not much shook the Winchesters, but Lynn's announcement threw them for a loop. They stared at the two stepsisters in shock. Jayne nudged a spot on the ground with the toe of her shoe, looking rather awkward. "Lynn, I really don't think there's any reason for us to be telling them about this."

"They told us their story," Lynn retorted. "I know you always think we got to go it alone, Jayne, but I've told you before: that's crap. Not only is it crap, it's dangerous crap. You hunt alone, you die alone."

Jayne rolled her eyes and looked away from the rest of them. "Jayne, don't you see?" Lynn pressed. "The four of us? We're in the same boat."

Jayne snorted. Lynn turned back to the brothers, ignoring her stepsister. "After she died, my dad got into hunting again. He used to be a hunter when he was younger, but when I came into the picture, he retired. After Jayne's mom, though… he was so heartbroken. He went right back to the life. Not unlike your dad. He was determined to get revenge."

"Where's your dad now?" Sam asked.

Lynn looked at the ground. "He died six years ago. Heart attack, actually. Can you say irony?"

"I'm sorry," Sam murmured.

"Don't be," Lynn replied. "Not your fault."

The four hunters fell quiet. "So what now?" Dean asked suddenly. He sounded testy. "You want to join forces and hunt whatever this thing is together? Help one another find our lost family members? Become the best of friends? I don't think so."

"I don't think so either," Jayne spoke up. "Here's what's going to happen. You two are going to stop Bloody Mary. Save that poor girl in there. As for Lynn and me, we're leaving tonight. We're going back to Palo Alto and we're going to try and pick up Stephen's trail."

"No, we're not!" Lynn exclaimed, turning to her stepsister in shock. "We can't just bail on Charlie!"

"We're not bailing on Charlie," Jayne retorted. "We're leaving her in more than capable hands. I'm sure the Winchesters will wrap up this hunt just fine on their own."

"I'm not leaving," Lynn said.

Jayne stared at her. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not leaving," Lynn repeated. "I'm not bailing on this hunt. I'm not going to let Charlie die."

Jayne stared at her a while longer. "Fine," she said finally through gritted teeth. "You stay then. Have a ball. I'm sure you and Sam and Dean will be one big happy hunting party."

Lynn blinked at her stepsister. "Jayne…"

"I'm leaving tonight," Jayne interrupted, staring her down. "With or without you."

Then she turned away from all of them and disappeared back into the motel room.

* * *


	13. Bloody Mary

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to guardian music angel, winchesterxgirl, tbelle1234 and Nelle07 for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 13: Bloody Mary

Charlie sat on the lumpy mattress, her knees bent up to her chin, and her arms wrapped around her shins. She watched with huge brown eyes as Jayne reached under the other bed in the motel room and dragged out her suitcase.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Packing," Jayne replied shortly.

Charlie blinked. "Why? Are you going somewhere?"

She sounded rather upset. Jayne supposed she couldn't blame her. The girl _did_ have a homicidal ghost after her, and watching Jayne pack her bags before the hunt was finished couldn't exactly be comforting. "Yep," she said. "I've got something I got to do."

"What about me?" Charlie asked incredulously.

"You'll be fine," Jayne replied. "Sam, Dean, and Lynn aren't going anywhere. They'll help you."

She started throwing her things into the suitcase without bothering to fold or organize them. Charlie watched with wide eyes. "What's so important that you have to leave _now_?" she demanded.

Jayne shook her head. "Trust me. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"It's none of your business." There was finality in Jayne's tone that made it clear the discussion was, at least in her own eyes, over.

"I can't believe this," Charlie murmured faintly.

Jayne ignored her and kept packing.

Lynn burst in through the door. "You know what, Jayne?" she shouted into the room.

It was almost humorous to hear Lynn so angry. Rushing into the room and shouting something like "you know what?" wasn't exactly the most rational and intelligent way to kick off an argument. "What?" Jayne asked calmly, not bothering to look up from her packing.

"You're selfish!"

Jayne froze, dropped the shirt she was holding, and straightened her back slowly. She turned to face her stepsister, who immediately winced at the murderous look in her eyes. "I'm selfish?" she asked, deadpan.

"Yes," Lynn returned without hesitation, even though the look on her face made it clear she wasn't exactly confident about the course of action she'd chosen to take. "Know why?"

"Honestly?" Jayne snapped. "No. I can't imagine why. Because I want to go find my missing little brother? Because I don't want to stay and help out on a hunt that already has too many hunters working it? Because I've spent the vast majority of my life taking care of my younger sister and brother, and for some reason would like to continue doing so? Tell me, Lynn, which one of those is so goddamn selfish? Please, I'm dying to know!"

Lynn blinked at her stepsister, at a loss for words. Finally, she said, "All right. Maybe you're not selfish. Maybe overall you're a generous, caring, awesome big sister. And maybe right now you're acting a little selfish, but maybe you're also entitled to be selfish every once and a while. I don't know. But I'll tell you this, Jayne: we've got a young high school girl sitting in this room who's going to die if we don't stop that spirit. And unlike Stephen, she actually wants our help. She's grateful. She's not running away. Whatever Stephen's problem is, he doesn't want you to fix it. So why don't you stay here where you're actually wanted?"

Jayne stared at Lynn for a moment. Lynn felt mildly guilty about her attack, because she knew how badly it hurt Jayne to hear that her younger brother didn't want her help. But she would be damned if she let Jayne do this. They were not going to bail on a hunt like this, especially not when there was someone in trouble who was counting on them to get her out of it. And she was not going to let their desire to keep the family together actually wind up driving the family apart. Jayne and she were _not_ splitting up, not now and not ever.

Her stepsister was still staring at her, silent. Lynn began to worry that maybe she'd gone overboard. But finally, Jayne swallowed, and looked down at the floor. She cleared her throat and folded her arms across her chest. "Maybe this isn't his choice," she murmured. "Maybe someone's making him do all this."

"Maybe," Lynn replied. "Not likely, but maybe. So let's say that _is_ true: what is leaving tonight going to accomplish? Jayne, the trail is cold. It's more than cold: it's stone cold dead. Yeah, we can go back to Palo Alto and poke around, hoping someone there remembers seeing Stephen and knows where he went. But whether we leave tonight, or we wait until tomorrow, when this hunt's been wrapped up, it's not going to make a big enough difference in our search to really matter. Stephen's gone, Jayne, and this search for him is going to take a long time. So, while we're on it, we might as well help some other people out too."

Jayne stared at Lynn for a moment. Then she looked away, glaring at a spot on the wall over the bed. "Please, Jayne," Lynn almost begged. "Please don't do this. I need you. We can't split up. We can't."

Lynn's speech rather embarrassed Jayne, especially since Charlie was still sitting in the motel room. She continued to stare at the wall. Eventually her eyes fell on Charlie, who was watching them with big, scared, confused eyes. Jayne sighed and gave in. "All right," she said. She tried to grumble her assent, but it wouldn't come out sounding the way she wanted it to. "All right, fine. I'll stay. We'll stay. Just until this is over."

A small smile formed on Lynn's face. "That's my Jaynie," she said teasingly.

"Shut up."

* * *

Dean and Sam paced the outdoor hall in front of Jayne and Lynn's motel room, both getting rather impatient. "Man, why do we always get dragged into this crap?" Dean practically whined. "I'm so not in the mood for this female bonding emotional overload bull shit right now."

"Dean," Sam replied disapprovingly. "Give them a break. I mean, the little brother they thought they'd been tracking around the country literally just fell off the map. That's got to hurt. I mean, how did you feel when Dad disappeared?"

"Yeah, whatever," Dean grumbled. "This shit just keeps getting weirder and weirder, you know that? First with Dad, then with those two showing up, and now this? The whole 'our mom died like your mom' thing? Man, this is messed up."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I've noticed that's getting to be a recurring theme in our lives."

Dean snorted. "So what are we going to do about it?"

Sam shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. I mean, what _can_ we do? We'll just wrap this up, keep looking for Dad, let them keep looking for their brother, and if either of us gets a whiff of Dad or Stephen or the thing that killed Mom and Jess, we'll just give the other a call."

"I'll let you be in charge of that," Dean replied. He paced the hall a little bit more. "So," he said after a while. "About Mary…"

Sam gave a short, almost bitter, little chuckle. "Yeah, I've been thinking about that. You know your theory about smashing the mirror?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, I'm thinking that might not be enough," Sam announced. "I mean, Mary's hard to tie down. She moves around from mirror to mirror, so who's to say she won't just keep hiding in them forever? So maybe… we should _try_ to pin her down. You know, summon her to her mirror, and then smash it."

"Well, how do you know that's going to work?"

"I don't."

Dean nodded slowly, giving his brother a skeptical look. "Ok," he murmured. "But… who's going to summon her?"

Sam took a deep breath. He suddenly refused to look at his older brother. "I will," he said. "She'll come after me."

Dean stared at him for a moment. Then, he let out an irritated sigh. "All right, that's it," he practically snapped. "This is about Jessica, isn't it?"

Sam didn't reply. "You think that's your dirty little secret?" Dean pushed on. "That you killed her somehow?"

Sam still said nothing. Dean shook his head. "Sam, this has got to stop, man," he said. "I mean, the nightmares, and the calling out her name in the middle of the night… it's going to kill you! Now listen to me. It wasn't your fault. You want to blame something, blame the thing that killed her. Or better yet, take a swing at me! I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place!"

"I don't blame you," Sam was quick to say.

Dean gave him a pointed look. "Well, you shouldn't blame yourself. Cause there was nothing you could have done."

"I could have warned her," Sam shot back.

"About what?" Dean retorted. "You didn't know it was going to happen! And besides, all this isn't a secret! I know all about it! It's not going to work with Mary anyway!"

"No, you don't," Sam said quietly.

Dean stared at him. "I don't what?"

"You don't know all about it," Sam clarified. "I haven't told you everything."

Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. He just stared at Sam incredulously. What could Sam possibly be keeping from him about Jessica's death? And why was he keeping it from him? "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

Sam gave him a rueful smile. "Well, if I told you, it wouldn't really be a secret, now would it?"

Dean gawked at him. Finally, he said, "No. I don't like it. It's not going to happen."

"Dean, that girl in there is going to die unless we do something about it," Sam retorted. "And you know what? Who knows how many people are going to die after that?"

Dean stared at the ground. "Now, we're doing this," Sam said.

His older brother glared at him. Sam sighed. "You've got to let me do this," he whispered.

Before Dean could say yes or no, the door opened and Lynn poked her head out. "You two can come in," she announced. "We should discuss what we're going to do to stop Mary."

"What about Jayne?" Sam asked.

"She's staying," Lynn replied. "I talked her into it."

"You talked her into it?" Dean asked incredulously. "Really? She seemed pretty adamant about getting the hell out of here."

Lynn shrugged and gave him a cheeky smile. "What can I say?" she chirped. "It's the charm. Get in here."

She stepped back inside. Sam and Dean exchanged looks. "This conversation is _not_ over," Dean announced.

"Yeah, Dean," Sam replied. "It is."

Then he walked inside the motel room.

Dean stood outside the door, staring after his brother in disbelief. He had never been so thrown in his life. This was Sammy. Dean was the big brother. It was his job to look after the kid, and here Sam was, purposely walking right into danger and refusing to let Dean stop him. He couldn't do this. He couldn't just stand there and let Sam summon Bloody Mary. Furthermore, he wouldn't stand for being kept in the dark like this. He wanted – no, he _needed_ to know what was going on with Sammy, and he needed to know now.

"Dean!" Sam's impatient voice floated outside from the motel room. "What the hell are you doing?"

Trying to keep your ass alive, kid. "Nothing!" Dean called. "I'll be right in!"

He walked inside the motel room, still reeling from the conversation. He found Sam, Lynn, Jayne, and Charlie waiting expectantly for him.

"Finally," Lynn rolled her eyes. "All right, everyone. So, what's the plan here? We go to this antiques place, hunt down Mary's mirror, and smash it?"

"Sort of," Sam replied. "One of us has to summon her first."

Lynn blinked at him. "Summon her?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Sam said. "We think that Mary's been going after people who have secrets in their lives. Secrets where people got hurt. At the same time, though, she's been moving through all these mirrors, so it's possible she could just keep moving on through them, whether we smash the mirror or not. So if we summon her first…"

"Well, who's going to summon her?" Lynn interrupted. "Charlie?"

"That's not a bad idea," Dean said suddenly.

Sam glowered at his older brother. "No, Dean. We've been over this…"

"We haven't been over Lynn's idea," Dean retorted.

Lynn bit her lip, looking nervous. "Uh, well… actually… it was less of an _idea_, and more like a question… one that I thought was stated incredulously, but…"

Dean ignored her and sat beside Charlie on the bed. "Either way," he said. "We need to know what happened, Charlie."

Charlie frowned at him, confused and obviously a little frightened. "Well… we were in the bathroom, and Donna…"

"I think you know that's not what I meant," Dean cut her off. "Something happened, didn't it? Something in your life. A secret. Where someone got hurt."

Charlie looked down at the bedspread. "Leave her alone," Jayne snapped.

Dean looked up, surprised. It was Jayne's first contribution to the discussion. "Excuse me?"

"Leave her alone," she repeated. "She doesn't need to tell us a damn thing. It's none of our business. And quite frankly, Winchester, if you think I'm going to let you drag this poor girl off to some antiques store and force her to summon a homicidal ghost that's already tried to kill her, then you are really, really stupid."

Dean stared at her for a moment. Then he turned to Lynn. "Why did you convince her to stay again? Really, I'm curious."

"She's not wrong, Dean," Sam said quietly.

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"No!" Sam protested. "I'm just saying, using Charlie when we have an alternative option…"

"It's not an option, Sam," Dean snapped.

"Dean…"

"All right, first things first," Lynn interrupted, taking charge of the situation. "Charlie, we need to know if something bad happened to you, something where someone died. If nothing happened to you, it blows our theory right out of the water."

Charlie was still staring at the bedspread. It was obvious she didn't want to talk about whatever had happened in her life to make Mary come after her. However, after a moment's pause, she finally began to speak.

"I had this boyfriend," she whispered. "I… I loved him. But… he kind of scared me too, you know?"

Everyone was staring at her. If it made her nervous, she didn't let on. "Anyway, one night I was at his house, and we had this huge fight, and… I broke up with him. And he got upset and he said, Charlie if you walk out that door, I'm going to kill myself."

She was starting to cry now. "And you know what I did? I said 'go ahead.' And I left."

A sob escaped her throat. "How could I say that? How could I just leave him like that? I just… I didn't believe him, you know?"

The four hunters watched the young girl as she cried. Lynn sat down on the bed beside her and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"I should have," Charlie whispered, burying her face in her arms.

Lynn patted Charlie comfortingly on the back. She looked up at the other three and said quietly, trying not to disturb the teenager, "Well, I guess our theory was right, then."

Sam nodded. "We better get going. Smash that mirror."

Dean's expression was sour. "Sam…"

"Let's go," Sam interrupted him, walking out the door.

Dean glowered after him for a moment, before shaking his head and following.

Jayne looked over at Lynn and shrugged. "Looks like trouble in paradise," she smirked.

Lynn gave her a nasty look, and then returned to patting Charlie on the back.

* * *

Four doors slammed on the '67 Chevy that was parked in front of the antique store. Lynn rushed towards the back door, apparently eager to get inside and start smashing things. Jayne followed close behind her. She couldn't blame her stepsister for being eager, she supposed. At the moment, smashing things _did_ sound like fun.

The Winchester brothers kept a safe distance from the demon-hunting stepsisters, walking towards the back door much more slowly. Lynn was already bent over the lock, picking it with a pin she'd pulled from her ponytail. Jayne leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, her eyes darting up and down the alleyway.

Dean kept a careful watch on the two young women as he said, "You know, her boyfriend killing himself? That's not really Charlie's fault."

Sam shrugged. "You know as well as I do, Dean, spirits don't exactly see in shades of gray. Charlie had a secret, someone died. That was good enough for Mary."

They were quiet for a minute. "You're really going to do this, aren't you?" Dean asked.

"I have to, Dean."

"You don't have to," Dean retorted. "Damn it, Sam…"

"Shh," Sam hushed his brother. "They're going to hear you."

They had come up close behind the stepsisters now. As they neared, Lynn gave a soft, triumphant cry, and turned the doorknob. The door swung open soundlessly.

She grinned at the other three hunters. "Easy as pie," she announced.

"Stop showing off," Jayne grumbled. "It's not like you did anything no one else here can do."

Lynn rolled her eyes and walked inside the antiques store. Jayne shuffled in after her. Dean turned to Sam, apparently having something else to say to him about this whole crazy plan, but Sam strode in after the two girls without making eye contact.

Dean was about ready to kill Sam himself. Shaking his head and glaring at Sam's back, he walked inside as well, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Instantly, flashlights came on and the four began poking around the store, on a quest for mirrors. "I'm confused," Jayne muttered to her stepsister as they searched. "Who's summoning Mary?"

"Sam, I think," Lynn whispered in reply.

"Right," Jayne returned skeptically. "And Sam is summoning Mary because…?"

"I don't know. Apparently he has a secret where someone died."

"Sounds like a great guy. You still all gaga over him?"

Lynn sighed heavily. "Shut up, Jayne. I'm not gaga."

"Whatever. I wonder what his secret is."

Lynn shrugged. "Probably has something to do with his girlfriend, Jessica."

"He has a _girlfriend_?"

"Why, Jayne, you sound surprised."

"That's because I am."

"She's dead, if that helps."

"Oh, that's pleasant." Suddenly, Jayne frowned. "Wait a minute. Why do you know that, and I don't?"

"Because he told me, and not you," Lynn replied smartly. "Maybe if you were friendlier, people would confide in you more often."

"You know what I meant, Lynn. Why didn't _you_ tell me?"

"Well, I didn't see why you needed to know."

Jayne gawked at her stepsister. Lynn winced. The fury was coming. "Oh, well, excuse me. I mean, you're right. It is totally inappropriate for me to be concerned about who my stepsister is dating. Or considering dating. Damn it, Lynn, what is the matter with you? If the guy my stepsister's got her eyes on has a secret where someone died, _and_ a dead girlfriend, that sounds to me like something I ought to know! What if _he _killed his girlfriend? You really want to be next in line, Lynn? How am I supposed to protect you from that if I don't know about it?"

Lynn shook her head and glared at Jayne in the glow of the flashlight. "You don't know anything about Sam or his dead girlfriend."

"And you do?"

"No," she replied. "I don't. And I don't want to date Sam. And if I did, I doubt he would kill me. Doesn't really seem the type, know what I'm saying? You know what else? You're being a real bitch right now. What did Sam ever do to you?"

Jayne snorted. "Nothing. Yet."

Lynn rolled her eyes and let out a harsh, frustrated breath. "By the way, I don't need you to protect me," she snapped.

Jayne glared at her. "That remains to be seen."

"Hey!" Dean's voice carried over to the two of them. "We found it!"

He waved at them from across the room. The two of them walked towards Sam and Dean as quickly as they could in the dark, cramped store. Once they reached the brothers, they found them both armed with crowbars, staring into the ornate gold mirror that had once belonged to Mary Worthington.

"You sure about this?" Dean asked his brother.

"I'm sure," Sam replied.

Dean sighed.

Sam raised his crowbar over his shoulder and stared into the mirror. "Bloody Mary," he said.

The other three stared at him nervously. "Bloody Mary," he said again.

This time, he swallowed, apparently starting to lose his nerve. He glanced over at his older brother, almost as though he were looking for reassurance. Then he returned to the mirror, looking determined.

"Bloody Mary."

There was a pause in which nothing happened. No one moved or made a sound. The mirror didn't seem to react to Sam's summons. Then, as they stood there waiting, bright lights suddenly cut through the storefront window.

"Oh, damn it," Jayne muttered.

"I'll go check that out," Dean announced. "You guys stay here."

"Jayne, maybe you better go with him," Lynn said.

Jayne frowned at her. "Why?"

Lynn gave her a meaningful look. Jayne rolled her eyes and followed Dean towards the front of the store. "Be careful," Dean hissed over his shoulder at his younger brother. "Smash anything that moves!"

The two of them picked their way through the crowded store, pressing themselves against an antique armoire. "Crap," Dean hissed, staring through the window. There was a cop car sitting directly outside.

He hid the crowbar he'd been holding behind the armoire. Jayne raised her eyebrow as Dean straightened up and took a step forward. "Follow my lead," he announced.

Jayne snorted. "What?"

He glared at her over his shoulder. "Would you just come on?" he snapped.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine," she grumbled. Dean turned back towards the door and started walking. Jayne followed him. "This ought to be interesting," she muttered under her breath.

Dean strode confidently through the main door of the shop. Reluctantly, Jayne stepped out after him. "Hold it!" one of two cops ordered, stepping forward. Both law enforcement officials pointed their guns at the two hunters.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa guys, false alarm. We tripped the system," Dean announced, holding up his hands in surrender. A charming smile had graced his features. Jayne was tempted to roll her eyes again, but refrained from doing so in the cops' presence. Instead, she attempted a charming smile of her own. It felt foreign on her face, and Jayne was sure the smile looked forced and painful.

"Who are you?" the other cop demanded.

"We're the boss's kids," Dean grinned at them. Everything's all right, his face seemed to say. Trust me.

For a moment, Jayne began to think this might work. And then one of the cops asked, "You're Mr. Yamishiro's kids?"

Dean seemed slightly thrown off guard. The charming smile faded ever so slightly. Jayne decided now was the time to contribute. "We're adopted," she announced, still smiling her not-quite-charming smile.

The cops exchanged skeptical looks. They turned back to Jayne with raised eyebrows. She clung to the smile.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at her, and then turned back to the cops. He gave them yet another charming grin.

Back inside the store, Sam and Lynn were standing in front of Mary's mirror, waiting nervously for her to arrive. "See anything yet?" Lynn asked quietly.

Sam shook his head in the negative, swallowing hard. The two of them stood there, glancing around anxiously. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam caught sight of a strange, pale-skinned girl wearing tattered clothes and hiding her face behind a curtain of long dark hair. Her reflection was in the mirror behind him.

"Lynn!" he exclaimed.

Lynn swiveled in the direction he'd nodded, and swung the crowbar in her hands with all her might into the mirror behind her. The long metal stick crashed into the glass, shattering it into thousands of sharp tiny shards. Sam caught sight of the same ghost-like girl in the mirror directly next to him and smashed his own crowbar into the glass. She popped up again almost immediately in the mirror on his other side, and Sam propelled his weapon through the glass in that mirror as well. Countless little glass shards rained down on the floor below. Sam glanced in the mirror and saw Mary hiding in yet another of the mirrors behind him. At his warning cry, Lynn once again whipped around and brought her crowbar down heavily into the glass. The mirror shattered, and the force of the crowbar knocked it off the wall. It fell heavily to the ground below.

Sam stared at his own reflection in Mary Worthington's mirror, holding his crowbar ready to do some damage. "Come on," he practically begged. "Come into this one."

His reflection didn't seem to move with him. The face in the mirror gave him a tiny smirk. Sam knew he hadn't smirked. He frowned at his reflection, amazed, not sure if he was seeing things or not. He was so entranced by the strange behavior of his reflection that he failed to notice the heavy mirror that had fallen from the wall had landed on Lynn.

She was more annoyed than hurt. Her legs were both pinned beneath the heavy, ornate frame. Sighing in irritation, Lynn tried to shove the mirror off her legs. The distance between the mirror and her arms, as well as the mirror's weight, were making this very difficult to accomplish. "Sam?" she asked. He was going to have to lend her a hand.

Sam didn't respond. He just kept staring at the mirror in confusion. Lynn rolled her eyes, even more irritated now, and turned to him, giving him a frustrated look. But before she could holler at him, a cry of agony escaped his lips and the crowbar slipped from his hands, falling to the floor with a loud clang.

Outside the antiques store, Jayne and Dean were failing miserably to convince the cops that they were in fact a part of the Yamishiro family. "Adopted?" one of them asked skeptically.

"Yeah," Jayne agreed, jerking her chin up in the affirmative. She tried to smile again, but she was really bad at it. The charming 'trust me' smile was best left to Dean. "That's right."

The cops weren't buying it. They were moving in closer and closer to her and Dean, and it was clear that it wasn't so they could shake hands. Dean's charming smile faded, and he said suddenly, "You know, I just really don't have time for this right now."

He smirked. Jayne knew immediately that they were screwed. And then, so quickly that Jayne nearly missed it, Dean's fist flew out and made crushing contact with one officer's face. The second officer leapt forward, but Dean's fist had already swung around to meet him, and he punched the man hard in the temple. He fell to the ground, out for the count. The first officer was still with them, however, and he stepped closer, reaching for his gun. Dean propelled his fist into his head a second time, and the officer fell heavily to the ground, joining his partner in dreamland.

Dean shook out his fist and gave Jayne a smirk. She was staring at him, slack-jawed, the expression on her face a humorous blend of surprised and impressed. Then, suddenly realizing what she must look like, Jayne quickly recovered from her shock and gave her a head a little shake, not unlike a wet dog trying to knock loose the water from its ears. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and smirked back at him.

"Assaulting a police officer?" she asked. "Risky move."

"Worked, didn't it?" he replied rather cockily.

"Yeah," she returned grudgingly. "_This_ time."

"Every time," he countered, the smirk broadening.

She rolled her eyes and walked back into the shop. Dean followed close behind.

Deep within the store, Sam was gasping for breath and clutching at his chest. Lynn could tell from his reflection that blood was flowing freely down his cheeks from the corners of his eyes… but then again, she wasn't entirely sure how reliable that reflection was. After all, Sam's reflection was still standing up and glowering at him, but Sam was on his knees, choking.

"Sam!" she cried out, trying frantically to get out from under that damn mirror. Try as she might, nothing. Sam continued choking and bleeding.

"It's your fault."

Lynn looked up from that stupid fucking mirror in shock at the sound of Sam's voice. Sam was still gasping and making choking noises on the floor. Lynn doubted he was in any shape to say anything at all. Then, to her complete and utter shock, his reflection suddenly spoke.

"You killed her. You killed Jessica."

Lynn resumed her frantic attempts to get out from under the mirror.

"You never told her the truth," Sam's reflection carried on relentlessly. "Who you really were. But it's more than that, isn't it? Those nightmares you've been having? About Jessica dying? Screaming? Burning? You had them for days before she died."

Lynn suddenly stopped trying to get out from under the mirror and stared at Sam's reflection, shocked. What?

"Didn't you?" the mirror thundered. "You were so desperate to be normal. To believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die?"

She had to do something. Sam was one more caustic sentence away from kicking the bucket. Lynn gave up on the mirror and glanced around frantically for her crowbar. Finding it lying not far from her side, Lynn reached for it in desperation. Her fingers closed around the long metal bar and she lifted it from the ground, hurling it with all her strength at the mirror that towered over Sam's hunched, groaning form.

"You dreamt it would happen!" Sam's reflection shouted.

Lynn's crowbar collided forcefully with the mirror's reflective surface and the glass shattered instantly. Sam's reflection disappeared as the glass crumbled into thousands of tiny shards and littered the ground around the youngest Winchester.

"Sam!" she exclaimed. "Sam, are you all right?"

He was still trying to catch his breath, but he managed a nod.

"Sam? Sammy?"

Dean's voice echoed through the antiques shop. Lynn looked up in the direction it had come from and found both Sam's older brother as well as her stepsister rushing towards them. Dean's frantic race to his brother's side reminded Lynn of a batter sliding into home at a baseball game. He practically skated across the floor on his knees to reach his little brother. "Sammy?" he exclaimed again, grabbing the younger man's face in his hands.

"It's Sam," Sam replied.

Jayne had reached Lynn's side now. She bent her knees and grabbed the mirror lying on top of her stepsister's legs, lifting it up just enough for Lynn to be able to slide out from under the heavy frame. Once she was clear, Jayne let it fall back to the ground with a loud thud. "Are you all right?" she demanded.

Lynn nodded. "I'm fine," she returned. "Is Sam…?"

"I'll live," Sam interrupted, sounding breathless. "Thanks Lynn."

"We better get out of here," Dean announced, helping his brother to his feet. Sam cursed his weakness as his knees buckled underneath him. Dean tightened his grip on him, supporting his brother towards the exit. Jayne loaned Lynn her hand, hauling her up on her feet as well, and the two of them joined the boys as they headed for the door.

They had barely made it three steps when they heard the sound of crunching glass from behind them. Turning, the four hunters found themselves face to face with a pale-skinned young woman, her torn and dingy dress falling off her shoulder, and her long messy black hair hiding her face.

Immediately, each one of them felt pain blossom in their chests, and blood trickle down their faces. It became very difficult to breathe, and their legs no longer seemed capable of supporting their bodies. Sam felt that same horrible pain spread once again throughout his body, and he crumpled slowly to his knees. All around him, Dean, Lynn and Jayne joined him on the ground.

As he lay there, gasping for air, Sam noticed his older brother, wincing with pain, reach out and grab hold of a small mirror lying nearby. He felt a dim astonishment as he watched Dean lift the mirror up and hold it in front of Mary Worthington's spirit.

The spirit looked confused as she stood there, head tilted to the side, staring at the mirror in front of her. Then a deep, rasping voice echoed throughout the room.

"You killed them," Mary Worthington's reflection hissed at her. "All those people! You killed them!"

Bloody Mary choked. She grasped her chest in pain. Blood trickled from her eyes. And then she shattered into millions of little tiny pieces, exactly like her mirror.

* * *

Jayne handed Charlie her backpack. The young girl stood nervously in the motel room, chewing her lip. "Here," Jayne said shortly. "You should be all right now."

Charlie smiled slightly, throwing her backpack over her shoulder. "Thanks," she said quietly. "I'm glad you stayed."

Jayne gave her a short smile and shrugged. "You're welcome."

The door swung open and Dean poked his head in. "Charlie?" he asked. "You ready to go?"

Charlie nodded. "Yeah," she murmured.

Dean held the door open for her, and Charlie stepped out into the sunlight. She looked back once over her shoulder and gave Jayne a wave and a smile. Jayne nodded back at her. Charlie began the walk across the parking lot to the Winchester's Impala.

Dean nodded at Jayne. "Well… guess we're going to head out after dropping her off."

"Cool," Jayne replied.

There was a long silence. "You know, you could… I don't know… apologize?" Dean suggested.

Jayne raised an eyebrow. "For?"

He gave her an incredulous look. "Are you serious?"

Jayne shrugged.

Dean smirked and leaned against the doorframe. "Well, let's see. You could apologize for treating me and my brother like criminals? For punching me in the face? For _kicking my car_? Pick one."

Jayne sighed heavily, rolling her eyes, and crossed her arms in annoyance. "Fine. Sorry."

"For?"

"All those things," she replied. "Except punching you in the face."

Dean stared at her. The he smirked again. "All right, then. See you around, Jayne."

"Bye," she said shortly.

Dean closed the door and followed Charlie across the parking lot. Jayne rolled her eyes again and started packing up her stuff. As soon as the Winchesters left, Lynn and she were going to pull out too.

Before that short exchange with Dean, she hadn't considered that the events of the past few days didn't just mean that her brother had suddenly gotten even harder to find. It also meant that the Winchesters hadn't had a hand in her brother's disappearance. It meant that someone else out there had come up against the thing that had killed her mother. It meant that Lynn and she might just have allies.

But in all honesty, Jayne found that it didn't matter much to her either way. She had a brother to find. If there were going to be any alliances forged around here, she'd leave it to Lynn to figure out. Her stepsister was the one who was good at that crap. Outside of finding Stephen and carrying on hunting, Jayne didn't much care what happened.

* * *

Sam was leaning on the back of the Impala, waiting for his brother and Charlie to come out to the car, when Lynn suddenly appeared beside him. "Hey," she said, leaning up against the bumper next to him.

"Hey," Sam said softly, giving her a nod and a tiny smile.

They were quiet for a moment. Finally, Lynn spoke. "So… that hunt was, uh… intense."

Sam gave a short chuckle. "Yeah," he agreed. "Intense."

"You know, I really am sorry about the whole gunpoint thing," Lynn went on.

"I know you are," Sam replied. "I told you, it's all right."

They were quiet again. "So, uh… all that stuff Mary said in your reflection," Lynn spoke up cautiously. "That's… that's true? Your girlfriend? The way she died? You dreamt that? Before it happened?"

There was a long silence. Finally, Sam nodded. "Yeah," he murmured. "Yeah, I did."

Lynn was quiet for a moment. She appeared to be considering her words very carefully before she spoke again. After a short while, she turned to him and said, "You haven't told Dean."

Sam was slightly thrown, but tried not to show it. "No," he agreed. "I haven't."

Lynn nodded. "Are you going to?"

He stared at her, astonished. "What?"

"I'm curious," Lynn replied. "Humor me."

Sam stared at her a moment longer, and then answered, "Of course I am."

"Yeah?" Lynn challenged him. "When?"

His jaw dropped. "Look, Lynn, I don't want to be rude or anything, but I don't see how that's any of your business."

"It's not," Lynn returned. "It's not my business at all. But if you're seeing things before they happen, Sam, that's… that's huge. You can't just ignore that."

"It was a fluke," Sam insisted. "It was… it probably won't happen again."

"But it might," Lynn retorted. "Was this the first time?"

Sam sighed heavily. "Lynn, I don't think…"

"Was this the first time?" she asked again.

Sam rolled his eyes, huffing. "Yeah. This was the first time."

"Ok," Lynn said. "Then this might mean something, Sam. Maybe Jessica's death unleashed some sort of power you have, some sort of psychic capability…"

"I'm _not_ a psychic."

"Oh? That's why you're having psychic visions then?"

Sam fell silent, glaring at the pavement below him. Lynn sighed. "All right, I'm sorry Sam. I'm being pushy and nosy. But… look. I like you, Sam. You're a decent guy. Honestly, I think of you as… a friend. Kind of. And I just think that this isn't something you should go through alone. No one should. You need to tell your brother, Sam."

"I will," Sam said shortly.

"Soon," Lynn pushed.

Once again, Sam made no reply. Lynn stared at him, but he refused to look at her. Finally, she sighed, apparently giving in. "All right. If you're not going to tell Dean, then just promise me something, all right?"

Sam frowned at her. "Promise you what?"

Lynn met his eyes. "Call me if you need anything," she said. "If something happens that you don't how to deal with, if you have another vision, if… if you need to talk about something. Anything. Just promise me you'll call."

He stared at her for a little while. "All right," he said finally. "I promise."

Lynn shook her head. "I don't think you mean that."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," Lynn snapped. "I'm serious. This is a big deal, Sam, and I don't think you're handling it very well."

"I'm handling it fine…!"

"Please," she interrupted. "Just call, ok? I'll worry about you."

They were silent for a long time. "You don't need to worry about me," Sam murmured finally.

"I know," Lynn replied. "Not my place or whatever. But I will."

He stared at her. "Ok. I'll call."

* * *

The Impala cruised up to the driveway of the two-story suburban home. In the backseat, Charlie stared at her house through the rear window of the old car. "So… this is really over?" she asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied, smiling at her. "It's over."

Charlie smiled back. "Thank you," she said.

Dean shook her hand. Charlie got out of the car and started the walk up to her front door.

"Charlie!" Sam suddenly called after her.

She stopped short and spun around. "Your boyfriend's death," Sam said. "You really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped him."

Charlie stared at him. "Sometimes bad things just happen," he finished.

A tiny, almost grateful smile appeared on her face. The she turned away and walked inside.

Dean smacked his brother in the shoulder. Sam turned to him, startled. "That's some good advice," Dean said.

Sam stared at him, surprised. Then he smiled. Dean smirked, and started the car back up.

The two of them drove away from Charlie's house and made their way through downtown. "Sam?" Dean said suddenly.

Sam looked over at his brother. "Yeah?"

"Now that this is all over, I want you to tell me that secret of yours."

His younger brother smiled. "Dean," he said. "You're my brother. And I'd die for you."

Dean raised an eyebrow.

Sam bit his lip, remembering what Lynn had told him. He could almost hear her nagging him in his head; 'tell him! Tell your brother!'

He almost told him. But he couldn't. Couldn't bear to think about the way his brother would look at him once the news came out.

"But there are some things I need to keep to myself."

Dean didn't like that answer, Sam could tell. Still, he smiled. He wasn't going to tell Dean the truth, no matter how badly his brother wanted to know. Sam turned and faced the window, the smile still on his face.

That smile faded almost immediately. As he watched buildings and pedestrians sail by the window, he caught sight of a beautiful young blonde woman with long curly hair in a long white dress.

It was Jessica.

She stared at him, her expression gentle. Sam couldn't take his eyes off her. The car passed by a telephone pole, and it obstructed Jessica from his view.

When the pole was gone, so was Jessica. Sam nearly choked. He swore he had seen her. She'd been there, he knew it.

Why? What did it mean?

A strange, peaceful feeling engulfed him. Suddenly, without knowing why, Sam felt... forgiven.

* * *

Lynn sat in the passenger seat of the gray pickup, staring at her laptop. Jayne was behind the wheel, nodding along to the radio, and staring out the windshield as she drove. She looked up from the computer briefly, and spared a glance at her stepsister. Jayne was only twenty-six, but at that moment, she seemed much older. Lynn saw lines around her mouth and her eyes that she didn't remember being there before.

"We're going to find him," she said.

Jayne tensed. The sudden words had startled her. "Yeah," she agreed. "I know."

There was a pause. "We headed for Palo Alto?" Lynn asked.

Jayne nodded. "Yep."

"Sounds good."

They lapsed back into silence. Lynn stared at the monitor of her laptop, but she didn't really see what was on the screen. She had to say something. Anything. There had to be a way to reassure her stepsister. A way to make her feel better about all the shit they had on their shoulders right now. After all, Jayne was always finding a way to make _her_ feel better. Now it was Lynn's turn.

"You know, I really do want to find Stephen," Lynn said suddenly. "But if he doesn't want to be found, well… we can make it without him."

Jayne frowned. Lynn pushed on with, "We've got each other, Jayne. You and me? We've got a good thing going here. We don't need anything else."

A small smile formed on Jayne's face. "You think so?"

"I know so."

Jayne actually laughed. A short bark of a laugh, but a laugh none the less. "Good to know you're not planning on disappearing in the dead of night on me."

"Never even crossed my mind."

They exchanged a smile. Jayne turned up the radio. Lynn returned to her laptop. And the truck kept going towards Palo Alto.

* * *


	14. Premonition

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to winchesterxgirl, Firefly Orain Xi-Wang, Nelle07, guardian music angel, tbelle1234, Fragrant Princess, Silent Imagery, and A. Twilight. Love for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 14: Premonition

The barnyard was dark and deserted. The only light illuminating the lawn came from the moon and the windows of the tavern, which was crowded with people. From her spot in the yard, Lynn could hear muffled music and laughter coming from within the building.

She pressed on across the barnyard, her feet kicking up tiny dust clouds as she made her way through the dirt. There was a deep frown on her face as she concentrated on the sight before her. The large brown barn was in desperate need of a paint job, and it didn't look all that sturdy either. It was dark and presumably empty. Yet the barn doors stood wide open, one swinging eerily back and forth on its hinges.

Her footsteps echoed throughout the deserted yard. Lynn stepped over the threshold and peered cautiously into the barn. "Hello?" she called.

No one answered. Her frown deepened and she flicked on a flashlight, stepping farther into the large barn.

Carefully, she circled the large, cavernous barn, shining the flashlight into corners and behind large crates and lawn equipment. After a search of several minutes, she sighed, shrugged, and appeared to give up.

Lynn turned towards the door. Suddenly, the doors slammed shut. Lynn gave a loud squeak, jumping about a foot in the air, and dropped her flashlight on the ground. It flickered and went out.

_Boom! _There was a loud explosion. Immediately, the barn was engulfed in flames. On the floor of the barn, illuminated by a flickering orange glow, was a very still form, face down in the dirt, with wavy black hair.

* * *

With a loud, terrified gasp, Sam Winchester awoke quite suddenly, sitting up straight in his bed. He glanced around the motel room he shared with his brother in a panic. There was no fire, no smoke, and no Lynn Juarez. The only noise in the room was Dean snoring softly in the next bed over.

Sam stumbled out of bed and felt his way over to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he flicked on the overhead light. He turned the faucets on and bent over the sink, furiously splashing water on his face.

Talk about a nightmare.

He sighed, rubbing his face dry with one of the towels. Hanging the towel up, he blinked at his reflection in the mirror. Everything had felt so real. It was as if the dream had been really happening, right before his eyes.

The last time he'd had such a vivid nightmare had been in the days leading up to Jessica's death; the blood on his face, Jessica on the ceiling, the flames that engulfed… everything. He remembered it perfectly. Reliving it night after night had permanently engrained it into his memory.

And now there was this new nightmare. This perfectly vivid, equally horrible nightmare. A nightmare that wasn't about Jessica – it was about Lynn.

What if…?

No. It couldn't be. There was no reason for him to be having another… what had she called it? A psychic vision?

He simply wouldn't allow it to be real.

Sam quietly made his way back into the motel room. Dean was still snoring, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn't have to explain himself to his brother.

He crossed the room as silently as possible and climbed slowly back into bed, careful not to let the mattress creak. Then, bundled back beneath the covers, Sam closed his eyes and tried as hard as he could to get back to sleep.

* * *

Lynn Juarez stared at her cell phone.

She had been staring at it for several minutes now. Before that, three hours ago, she had stared at it for nearly ten whole minutes. Yesterday, she had spent the vast majority of her time cradling the little hunk of technology in her hands.

No one was calling.

Two weeks. It had been that long. Two weeks since Toledo. Two weeks since a face to face encounter with a real urban legend: Bloody Mary. Two weeks since she had learned Sam's secret. Two weeks since he had promised to call.

Two weeks had passed, and she hadn't heard a single word from him.

Not one voicemail. Not a single text message. No phone calls whatsoever.

Two weeks ago, Lynn and her stepsister had pulled out of Toledo and headed for Palo Alto. They had spent more than five days there, and learned nothing. Jayne had wanted to stay longer, but even she knew deep down they were hunting a shadow in the dark. Stephen was gone. He'd left Palo Alto without a trace – and even if he had left a trace behind, that trace was long gone now. Far too much time had passed.

Now they were driving down the interstate, crossing Oklahoma. They had nosed around a few suspicious spots, rid one family's farmhouse of an unfriendly spirit, and now they were searching for their next hunt.

They drove in silence. Jayne was at the wheel of her beloved Nissan, as always, and Lynn was riding shotgun, still staring at that damn phone.

Without meaning to, she sighed.

"What is your problem?" Jayne practically exploded.

Lynn jumped, startled. "Nothing," she said far too quickly.

Her stepsister rolled her eyes, clearly not believing her. "Really? Then why are you so sullen and quiet? Usually I can't get you to shut the hell up."

That remark earned Jayne a glare. "Nothing's wrong," Lynn replied. "I'm just kind of tired."

Jayne nodded slowly. "Right," she murmured.

They lapsed into a short silence. "So does staring at your phone usually help keep you awake?" Jayne asked. "Or is this a new strategy you're trying out?"

Lynn chewed her lower lip, unsure whether she should say anything. Finally, the words came out. "Sam hasn't called."

The look on her stepsister's face was exactly the look Lynn had expected to see. It was incredulous and ridiculing at the same time. "Are you kidding me?"

She sighed again. "Jayne, please don't."

"You're sulking because Sam hasn't called you? Why? Did you really even expect…?"

"He said he would!" Lynn exclaimed. Even before the words left her lips, Lynn knew she sounded too defensive.

Jayne raised her eyebrow. "Whoa. Guy promises he'll call and then never does? What a shocker."

"Shut up."

"No, I'm serious. This is appalling."

"Stop it."

Suddenly, Jayne gasped in horror. "Oh my god – do you think he's dead?"

"Shut up!" Lynn shouted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She let loose a loud aggravated sigh, rolling her eyes. "I'm sorry I even told you!"

A small smirk appeared on her stepsister's face. Lynn ignored her.

That's when the phone rang.

Lynn's face immediately brightened, and she snatched her phone eagerly up off her lap. Her face fell instantly. It was not _her _cell phone that was ringing.

Laughing silently at her stepsister's expense, Jayne fished her own cell phone out of the cup-holder and flipped it open. "Hello?" she greeted whoever was on the other end.

Lynn watched her stepsister's face change from amused to mildly surprised. "Rufus? Hey! Shit, I can't remember the last time I heard from you!"

"Rufus?" Lynn asked excitedly. "That's Rufus?"

Jayne ignored her. "Oh, yeah, we're surviving. How about you?"

There was a short pause. The expression on Jayne's face changed slowly from happy surprise to a deep frown. "What?"

Jayne fell silent again. Lynn could just barely hear Rufus's voice on the other end. Finally, he stopped talking, and Jayne announced, "I see."

"What the hell is going on?" Lynn demanded. She was ignored again.

"All right. Thanks for calling, Rufus. We'll see you soon."

Jayne hung up the cell phone. "What's happening?" Lynn asked immediately.

Her stepsister took a deep breath. "Rufus Hannigan called," she replied.

"Yeah, I got that part. What did he want?"

"He said Stephen came to see him."

Silence filled the cab of the pickup, expect for the radio. The only voice in the truck belonged to Ann Wilson. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lynn asked quietly, "What did he say?"

Jayne shrugged. "Whatever he said, it must have got to Rufus. He told us to come out right away."

"He didn't tell you?"

"He said we'd do better to talk it about it in person."

They were silent again. "I can't believe this," Lynn fairly whispered. "After all these months…"

"I know."

Lynn sighed heavily. "Well, at least things seem to be taking a turn for the better," she murmured. "I mean, maybe now we'll have something to go on. Maybe we'll actually have a chance at finding Stephen."

"Maybe."

They were quiet again. Lynn was surprised at Jayne. Her stepsister didn't seem as excited about this turn of events as she should have been. All of Lynn's remarks were answered with short, one-word, noncommittal responses. She had yet to crack a smile since she'd hung up with Rufus. Her eyes were focused hard on the road before them. Her shoulders were tense.

Suspiciously, Lynn began to wonder what else Rufus had said, and why Jayne wasn't telling her about it.

And yet, she couldn't entirely blame her stepsister for not jumping up and down with joy. Lynn, too, felt as though she weren't responding correctly to the news. She wasn't smiling. She didn't feel happy or excited. She felt… nervous. Something was wrong, she was sure of it, and she was afraid that whatever Rufus Hannigan had to say was only going to further enforce her dark, foreboding feeling about her younger brother.

"What else did Rufus say?" she asked suddenly.

Jayne spared her stepsister one short glance out of the corner of her eye. "That was it," she replied.

Lynn still wasn't sure she believed her stepsister, but she let it go. Whatever Rufus knew about Stephen he would shortly be telling her himself. There was no way Jayne could keep her in the dark once they reached Kentucky.

Sighing, Lynn leaned back in her seat and stared out the window. Sam and his failure to call her no longer occupied her thoughts. Now, her mind was full of Stephen, and nothing else.

* * *

"Well, an auto mechanic was electrocuted out in Bixby, Arizona," Dean announced, hunched over Sam's laptop. "Witnesses say that the car wasn't running when the battery shocked him. Sound freaky enough for you?"

Sam said nothing from his spot on the bed. Dean raised an eyebrow and returned to the laptop. "And we've also got some recent reports of cattle mutilations out in West Texas."

His brother grunted something noncommittal. Dean was getting fairly exasperated. "Looks like there might be a spontaneous combustion case in Detroit."

Dean's suggestions for new hunts went in one ear and out the other. Sam couldn't help it. He wasn't trying to ignore his brother, but he was preoccupied with other thoughts besides their next hunt. The dream he'd had the night before was still foremost in his mind. Try as he might, he couldn't let it go.

It had been so real. Sam had felt as though he'd been standing right there in the barnyard with Lynn. Watching her cross the yard from the tavern to the barn. Sensing her nervousness as she investigated in the dark. He had literally felt the heat on his face from the fire.

And then she had lain on the floor completely still, the fire pressing in on her from all sides, the smoke getting thicker and thicker…

Sam leapt to his feet and headed for the door. "I'll be right back," he announced.

He could see Dean's incredulous expression as he passed him and slid out into the hall. His brother was officially both confused and concerned about him, but Sam couldn't worry about that right now. Shutting the door behind him, Sam made his way down the hall and ducked around the corner, taking refuge beside the ice machine.

Glancing about furtively, Sam dug his cell phone out of his jeans, flipped it open, and scrolled down through his address book to the Ls.

Then he dialed Lynn Juarez's phone number.

The phone rang. And rang and rang and rang. Sam started to get nervous. Finally, after about six rings, there was a click, and Lynn's voice asked, "Hello?"

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Lynn? Hi. It's Sam."

There was a short silence, and then Lynn said, "Oh. Hi."

"Hi," he said again. "Um, sorry… I know it's been awhile since I talked to you, but… I've been, um…"

"Busy?"

He winced. She sounded irritated with him. "Yeah. Busy. But I've got some downtime right now, and I wanted to see how you were doing."

She didn't reply. "I meant to call you earlier," he lied. "But, things got… well, we've been doing a lot of hunting, and… well, I'm calling now."

He hadn't meant to call. In fact, now that Sam thought about it, Lynn had barely crossed his mind at all in the past couple of weeks. Every once in awhile, he'd remember the promise he'd made her and feel mildly guilty that he hadn't called yet, and then he'd soon forget all about it again. But now, ever since the nightmare of the night before, he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind.

"It's all right," she said. Sam wasn't sure he believed her. "Don't worry about it. I've been busy too."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Sam replied. "How was Palo Alto? Did you find anything?"

"Palo Alto was… Palo Alto was extremely unhelpful."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I'm really sorry, Lynn," he said. And he was. "I know how hard this has to be for you and Jayne."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I know you do. Have you found anything out about your father?"

"No. No, we haven't. Not yet."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

There was a silence. "So… what are you doing now?" Sam asked.

"Actually, we have a lead on Stephen," Lynn replied. Sam heard a note of both excitement and nervousness in her voice. "A friend of our father's, Rufus Hannigan, called not too long ago. Said he'd heard from Stephen. We're on our way to see him."

"That's great!" Sam exclaimed. And yet, he wasn't sure if it was. "Rufus Hannigan, huh? Is he, uh…?"

"A hunter? Yeah."

"Well, that's really great," Sam said again. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, Sam."

There was another lull in the conversation. "So, uh… where does this Rufus Hannigan guy live?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Oh, um…" Lynn sounded surprised at the question. He supposed he couldn't blame her. "Well, he lives out in Stamping Ground, Kentucky. His family runs a tavern out there."

A tavern? Oh, great, this couldn't be good. "A tavern, huh? Isn't there a lot of farmland out there?"

"Huh? Oh, well, yeah. I guess so. I think Rufus's tavern used to be on some farmland. He's got this huge old barn out back. Once, he used to raise chickens, but I think he got rid of them."

"A big barn?" Damn it. "That sounds, uh… that sounds cool."

She laughed. "Liar."

He tried to laugh back. "Well, I hope you find Stephen."

"Thanks, Sam. I hope you find your dad."

"Thanks."

"Oh, and Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you called."

He wasn't sure what to say to that. "Goodbye, Sam," she said.

"Bye, Lynn."

She hung up the phone before he could tell her to be careful.

Sam stared at the cell phone in his hand for a moment, and then he made a decision. He turned and hurried back to the motel room.

As soon as he opened the door, his brother looked up from the computer and greeted him with, "There you are. I think maybe the case in Bixby is our best bet. If we leave tonight, we'll be there by…"

"We're not going to Bixby, Arizona," Sam interrupted, marching over to his bed. He yanked his luggage out from underneath the bed and unzipped the duffel bag in preparation to start packing.

Dean raised an eyebrow, watching his brother. "Ok…" he said, the tone in his voice sounding a lot like the tone one used when dealing with possibly crazy and dangerous people. "Then where _are_ we going?"

"Stamping Ground, Kentucky," Sam announced, dumping clothes into the bag.

Dean's expression was actually quite funny. "Where?"

"Stamping Ground, Kentucky," Sam repeated himself.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I think something might be going on out there."

"You think?" Sam merely nodded in reply to his brother's question. "And what exactly do you think is going on out there?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know."

Dean looked ready to kill. "You don't know?" Sam shook his head in reply. "Well, I'm sorry, Sam, but 'I don't know' isn't good enough. Why the hell do you want to go Stomping Grand…?"

"Stamping Ground."

"Whatever. Give me one good reason why…"

"Look," Sam said suddenly, looking up from his packing and meeting his brother's eyes. "I know it sounds crazy. But I was talking to Lynn…"

"Lynn Juarez?" Dean cut him off. Sam nodded, and Dean automatically sighed. "Are you kidding me, Sam?"

"Would you just hear me out?" Sam exclaimed. "Look, Dean, she knows a hunter out there named Rufus Hannigan who says he's talked to their brother recently. So they're going to go check it out. And I don't know, Dean. The whole situation with us and them and Dad and their brother, not to mention the way our mothers died…"

"Sam, this is ridiculous," Dean interrupted. "Just because whatever that thing was that killed our mom killed their mom, you want to be best pals? It's probably killed a lot of other people's mothers too, Sam! Do you think we should be sniffing out those people next? I mean, come on…"

"Dean," Sam interrupted. "We're going. At least, I'm going."

Dean sighed in exasperation.

"And you can either come with me," Sam went on. "Or you can go to Bixby. Alone."

There was a long pause. Finally, Dean shook his head and said, "Fine. We'll go."

"Thank you," Sam replied. He didn't sound quite as grateful as he should.

Dean nodded, and started packing. Sam moved a little bit faster. If his nightmare came true and something happened to Lynn, he wanted to be there to stop it.

* * *

The Nissan pickup truck rambled down the dusty road, finally slowing to a stop in front of the old, white building with the wide front porch. Painted above the porch in large, faded black letters were the words "Hannigan's Pub."

Jayne stepped down from the cab of the truck and slammed the driver's side door shut behind her. Her stepsister followed suit. The two of them strode up to the tavern door and stepped inside.

It was the middle of the day, and the pub was quiet. There were a few regular drunks scattered about the large room, but no one else. Jayne approached the bar, Lynn on her heels.

"Jaynie? Is that Jaynie?"

Jayne looked up at the familiar use of her name and found a petite, pretty redhead in her early twenties rushing towards her, a huge smile on her face and her arms opened wide. "Hey, DeeDee," she grinned back.

DeeDee enveloped her in a huge hug, and Jayne awkwardly hugged her back. "I'm so glad you came," she exclaimed.

"Hello DeeDee," Lynn said softly from the sidelines.

DeeDee turned around and smiled big for her too. "Lynn! I almost didn't see you!" She hugged Lynn too, who returned the hug warmly. Then, having greeted both of them, she took a step back and gave them an appraising look. "How was the drive in?"

"Long," Jayne returned shortly.

DeeDee laughed, shaking her head. Her short red curls bounced around her face.

"Where's Rufus?" Jayne asked.

DeeDee sighed and shook her head again, this time in annoyance. Then she sashayed behind the bar. "One word: Danny."

"What'd he do this time?" Jayne asked knowingly.

DeeDee pulled two beers out of the cooler behind the bar and plopped them down on the counter in front of Jayne and Lynn. "Bar brawl."

Jayne snorted. "A bar brawl?"

"Yep," DeeDee replied. "In here, too. With a customer. A real customer, not a local drunk. We'll be lucky if the guy doesn't sue the shit out of us."

Lynn frowned. "Well, what happened? Why was he fighting?"

DeeDee shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. It's strange: lately, he's been getting into a lot of trouble. Even more than usual. Personally, I think he does it for the attention. Sad to say about a twenty-eight year old man." She sighed and affected an air of long-suffering. "It's so hard, being more mature than my older brother."

"I know the feeling," Lynn smirked, winking at her stepsister. Jayne rolled her eyes.

"Please," she retorted. "You're such a baby."

"Am not!"

Silence fell over the three young women. "So…" DeeDee murmured finally. "I know you guys came out here because of Stephen, right?"

Jayne nodded. "Yep."

"Did you see him?" Lynn asked eagerly. "Did he talk to you?"

DeeDee shook her head. "I saw him," she said. "For a minute. Then he went right in to see my dad. Barely spoke two words to me."

There was a hurt expression on her face. "It was kind of weird, you know? We used to be so close."

Close was putting it mildly, Jayne thought to herself. She remembered a time when Stephen and DeeDee had been practically inseparable. It had been right after Stephen's high school graduation, when he first really got into hunting. The two of them had entered into a rather hot and heavy relationship. It had moved too fast, and ended as quickly as it had begun, but there had always been a lingering closeness between the two of them.

But it all seemed to fit with Stephen's recent behavior. He'd ditched his sisters, tagged the Winchesters with the tracking device, scared Rufus, and now he was ignoring DeeDee, who had probably been the first girl he'd ever loved. Jayne still didn't know what Stephen had said to Rufus, but as anxious as she was to hear it, knowing that Stephen had chosen not to confide in the one person he's always counted on was frightening enough. She almost didn't want to know what Rufus had to tell her.

"Well, what did Stephen say?" Lynn asked, sounding too eager.

DeeDee shrugged, cleaning spilt whiskey off the bar with a damp rag. "Don't know. Dad wouldn't tell me. All I know is Stephen asked him not to tell anyone he was here. Said it was just between the two of them. But you know Dad: I swear, the man thinks he's the Godfather or something. He was all 'Family is family. They need to stick together,' and 'If he thinks I'm not going to tell those girls where he's been, he's got another think coming.' As soon as Stephen pulled out of here, he was on the phone calling you two."

Jayne studied DeeDee intently as she finished her story. Delilah Hannigan was as pretty as she remembered her. She was approximately Stephen's age, and when she'd been dating Jayne's younger brother, the two of them had gotten to know one another pretty well. Jayne considered her a friend, or even a second little sister. And Jayne had known her long enough to recognize when something was eating at her. She watched the way DeeDee worried at her lower lip with her front teeth. Her hazel eyes were boring holes into the countertop. There was something DeeDee wasn't telling them.

"What's wrong?" she demanded.

DeeDee started and looked up at her. "Nothing," she replied far too quickly.

Jayne raised an eyebrow.

DeeDee sighed. "Am I that transparent?"

"Yep," Jayne replied bluntly, giving her a single nod.

The younger girl continued wiping the now immaculate countertop with her now whiskey-soaked rag. "You know how Dad started me and Danny hunting when we were real young? Kind of like Russ did with you guys? And how I started getting interested in psychic photography?"

"Right, I remember," Lynn said quietly. "I also remember your dad wasn't real supportive."

"Yeah," DeeDee agreed ruefully. "He still isn't. Says it's all just bunk. But I know different."

They were quiet. Jayne and Lynn stared at her expectantly. DeeDee was clearly uncomfortable. "Look," she said suddenly. "When I first got into psychic photography, I used to take a lot of pictures around our property: the tavern, the house, the barn… and I never found anything. As far as I know, there's never been anything to find. There's never been anything creepy lurking around this place."

She paused, taking a breath. "Sometimes I still take pictures around the property. Just to check, I guess. Or maybe to keep in practice, I don't know. Anyway, my point is that after Stephen left, I did one of my photo rounds on the property. And, well…"

DeeDee trailed off. She glanced furtively around the bar. "Beatrice?" she called.

The only other bartender in the place looked up from where she was wiping down tables on the other side of the room. She was a buxom, curly-haired brunette in her mid-fifties. "Yeah, DeeDee?" she called back.

"Hold down the fort, all right?" DeeDee requested. "I've got to take care of some business in back."

Beatrice nodded her agreement. DeeDee walked out from behind the bar and headed for the back hall. "Follow me," she ordered her friends.

Jayne and Lynn slid off their barstools and followed DeeDee around the corner and into the back hall. She led them into one of the store rooms.

When she entered the room, Jayne blinked in surprise. The store room had been converted into a dark room. It was lit with a dim red light. DeeDee flicked on the actual lights, instantly brightening the room, and led the other two women over to her desk. Several prints lay fanned out on the surface.

"These are the pictures I took after your brother left," DeeDee announced. She suddenly looked even more nervous. "Take a look."

The two women stepped forward and peered down at DeeDee's photographs. The first picture had been taken in a bedroom. Both Jayne and Lynn recognized the room as being one of the guest rooms the Hannigans kept over the bar. Whenever the two stepsisters came to visit Rufus and his two kids, they would stay up there. The photograph showed a small double bed that was covered in one of the hand-woven quilts made by DeeDee's late mother, the talented Corinne Hannigan. There were lacy white curtains hanging in the window. And over the bed, almost as if it were emanating from the wood-paneled wall, was a large, brown mass.

"Look really close," DeeDee was saying quietly. "See the face? It doesn't even look human."

Jayne _could_ see the face, now that DeeDee mentioned it. Her skeptical nature could explain it away: poorly developed film, dust on the camera lens… in a way, Jayne supposed she wasn't really all that different from DeeDee's father. A lot of psychic photography really was just a load of bunk. But DeeDee seemed in earnest, so Jayne held her tongue.

"That's what worries me the most," she was saying now. "That it doesn't look human. See, I usually capture _spirits_ on film: the ghosts of humans. When you can make out their faces, they're undeniably human-looking. And they're usually white, or at least a light color. This is neither. Which makes me think…"

She trailed off, shaking her head. A worried expression had consumed her entire face. "What?" Lynn asked. "What does it make you think?"

"Maybe it's not a spirit," DeeDee murmured. "Maybe it's something worse."

There was something in her tone that Jayne didn't like. Something that made her feel prickly. She almost took offense at the insinuation. "What do you mean something worse?" Jayne demanded.

DeeDee didn't answer the question. Instead, she started handing out different photos. "I took this one outside of the barn," she said.

There was another dark mass. The face was less noticeable in this one, but it was there all the same. And this one didn't look all that human either.

"Wow," Lynn whispered. "DeeDee, these are… these are… what do you think this is?"

DeeDee sighed. "Some kind of entity. Normally, I'd say spirits, but…"

Jayne felt sudden, irrational anger bubbling up inside of her. "What are you saying?" she asked again. "That Stephen brought these with him somehow?"

Her brother's ex-girlfriend met Jayne's hard gaze. "Jaynie, don't look at me like that," DeeDee said, sounding pathetic. "You know how I feel about Stephen. I don't want anything to happen to him. I'm not saying that he's in league with these entities or something equally insane like that. All I'm trying to say is… well, come on Jaynie. You and Lynn have to have some sort of theory as to why Stephen took off in the first place. Lynn keeps going on about how scared he was. I just think… and I kind of think you'll agree with me… that maybe Stephen was running away from something. And now that he's been here, and these… things… showed up right after, well… maybe whatever's following him is finally catching up."

Jayne didn't have a response for that. She stared at DeeDee with a hard look on her face. Lynn chewed her lip nervously. "That's… unsettling," she murmured.

Her stepsister was right. The thought _was_ unsettling. Jayne didn't like the idea of something nasty and supernatural following her little brother around, and she liked the idea of whatever it was catching up to him even less. DeeDee shifted uncomfortable under Jayne's gaze. "I think," DeeDee said carefully, "That maybe we need to be poking around, seeing if these things – whatever they are – are still around."

Lynn nodded. "Right," she agreed. "We can do that tonight."

Jayne nodded too, although much more slowly than her stepsister had. Honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted to investigate whatever weird dust spots DeeDee had accidentally photographed while searching for ghosts. All really wanted was to talk to Rufus, find out what Stephen had told him, and then get back on the road. "Yeah," she murmured. "After we talk to Rufus. When's your Dad going to be back, DeeDee?"

She shrugged. "Depends. I think Danny might be in a _lot_ of trouble this time."

A tense, awkward silence fell over the three of them. "Well, all right then," Lynn announced. "Tonight."

She got up and made her way back towards the bar. Jayne watched her go, unaccountably annoyed with her stepsister. Lately, Lynn had been annoying her a lot.

DeeDee met her eyes over the desk. "I hope Stephen's all right," she said quietly.

Jayne studied DeeDee. She believed her. It was reasonable that her younger brother's ex-girlfriend would be worried about him, especially considering the way he'd been acting. "Yeah," she returned. "Me too."

* * *


	15. Barn and Brimstone

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to guardian music angel, Fragrant Princess, winchesterxgirl, and 3pointheartbeat for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 15: Barn and Brimstone

The Impala rolled to a stop beside the gray pickup truck. Both Sam and Dean immediately recognized the truck as the one that belonged to Jayne Gibson. "Well, I guess they're already here," Dean announced, shutting off the ignition.

Sam nodded mutely, staring at the white two story building before him. It had a covered front porch and 'Hannigan's Pub' painted above the second story windows. It reminded him of a saloon in an old Western, except there were no other bars or shops beside it and the street was littered with cars, trucks, and motorcycles instead of carts and horses.

An old classic rock song was playing loudly inside the crowded bar. It sounded vaguely like George Thurgood, but Sam couldn't be sure. Dean was the classic rock expert, not him.

"Anyone home?" Dean asked, waving his hand in front of his younger brother's face.

Sam jumped. "Oh, sorry."

He recognized his surroundings. That was the worse part. Everything looked exactly like it had in his dream.

Maybe his nightmare was coming true after all.

Which meant he had to go inside. Confront Lynn and her stepsister. What would she say when she saw him there? It wasn't like she was expecting him. She was going to think he was some crazy stalker. What was he going to tell her?

The truth, a little voice whispered in his head. The voice sounded infuriatingly like Lynn. Why, was anyone's guess. Tell her the truth.

It'd be nice if he could. But the problem was that the truth sounded something like this: I had a nightmare and in it you died in a fire. Want to hear the best part? It happened right in that barn out there.

He couldn't tell her the truth. It didn't seem to matter that she already knew about his dreams. He still couldn't tell her that she had starred in one of those nightmares she thought she knew so much about.

"Sam!" his brother practically hollered at him. "Are we going inside or not?"

"Oh, right, sorry, yeah," Sam replied, all too quickly and without making a move to get out of the car.

Dean was staring at him with an incredulous expression on his face. Sam wished he would quit it.

"Well?" Dean prompted. "Then why are you just sitting there?"

Sam's leg twitched nervously. His fingers pounded relentlessly on his knee. He stared straight through the windshield.

"I know you didn't just drag me off to BFE, Kentucky to make me sit in my car," Dean pressed, clearly irritated.

Sam turned his head and met his brother's eyes. Dean gave him another 'Well? What are we waiting for?' look. He sighed and said, almost painfully, "I didn't tell her we were coming."

His brother simply stared at him for a moment. Then: "What?"

"I didn't tell her we were coming," he repeated himself.

Dean continued to stare. "You didn't tell her we were coming."

"Nope," Sam said. He tried to smile. He failed.

Dean shook his head and turned in his seat to look out the windshield. "Why the hell not?"

Sam sighed again. "Honestly? I have no idea."

"Well, that's just great, Sam," his brother snapped. "You convince me to drive out to freaking Kentucky of all places because you want to go see your goddamn girlfriend – who by the way, is annoying as hell even if she is amazingly hot. And then you just sit here in my car like a complete and total douche bag because you didn't have the stones to call her up and tell her you were dropping by. Jesus, Sam…"

"First of all," Sam snapped back. "I didn't come out here to see Lynn. I came out here because, like I already said, I thought maybe we could get a lead on whatever killed Mom and Jess. Second of all, I am _not _sitting here like a complete and total douche bag…"

"Totally sitting here like a douche bag."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"That's real mature, Dean!"

"All I'm saying is that if you really like her, you'd get off your ass…"

"I don't really like her!"

"Oh, whatever!"

"You know what, Dean…!"

"Are we going inside or not?"

"Of course we're going inside!"

"Yeah? When?"

There was a brief pause. "In a minute," Sam mumbled.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable," he announced. Then he got out of the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed as his brother stormed off towards the bar. "What are you doing?"

"I need a drink!"

"Dean!"

"Are you coming or not?"

Sam sat there in the passenger seat a moment longer, his leg still twitching and his fingers still beating his knee. He was extremely annoyed, and extremely nervous.

"Damn it," he said finally, swinging open the car door and racing after his brother, who was almost to the entrance now.

"All right," Dean grinned, stepping inside. Sam followed on his heels, his eyes darting about nervously. "George Thurgood! This is awesome!"

Sam didn't quite agree. He was also a little too preoccupied with the countless scary and unfriendly looking bikers scattered about the pub to pay any attention to the music.

"I'm getting me one bourbon, one Scotch, and one beer," Dean said, giving his little brother a wink.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sounds great," he returned sarcastically.

"Whoa," Dean said suddenly, his whole face lighting up. He was staring in the vague direction of the bar. "Look at the bartender."

Sighing heavily, Sam followed his brother's gaze. Behind the bar, pouring shots for a couple of balding old bikers, was a petite, pretty red-headed young woman.

"I take it all back, Sammy," Dean practically crowed, slapping his brother on the shoulder. "I am _so_ glad you dragged me off to BFE, Kentucky."

Sam rolled his eyes again.

"Sam? Dean?"

Both Winchester brothers whirled around at the voice. Standing before them with a beer in her hand and a shocked look on her face was Lynn Juarez.

Dean gave his younger brother a pointed look. Sam swallowed. "Hey, Lynn," he said, forcing a smile.

Lynn stared at him. "Hi," she replied, sounding faintly incredulous. "Uh… what are you doing here?"

"I'll leave you two crazy kids alone," Dean announced, wearing his trademark smirk. Before Sam could even open his mouth to retort, Dean was halfway across the pub, making a beeline for the redheaded bartender.

Glaring after his older brother, Sam searched his brain for a reply to Lynn's question. "Sam?" Lynn asked again. "Um… why are you here?"

He turned back to her. She looked confused, which Sam supposed was understandable. She also looked a little creeped out, which was also understandable. "I just, uh…"

Lynn kept staring expectantly at him. Sam didn't know what to say. Lie? Tell the truth? A compromise somewhere in the middle? "I, um… well, I guess I just figured that given the similarities in our circumstances… maybe your brother's disappearance relates to my Dad's… and then I thought maybe Dean and I should check it out…. Yeah."

That sounded good. Right? He didn't look too much like a creepy weirdo, and Lynn didn't have to know he'd had a nightmare about her.

At least, he hoped he didn't look like a creepy weirdo.

Lynn was still staring at him with an odd expression on her face. Sam began to think he _did_ look like a creepy weirdo. Finally she shrugged. "All right, then."

He nodded, relieved. A small smile graced his features. "So, uh… find anything out so far?"

Lynn sighed and shook her head. "No, not yet. Rufus hasn't been around to tell us anything. He's been stuck down at the county jail trying to bail his son out."

Sam blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah," she said, blowing hair out of her eyes. "Danny's a real winner."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. Then Lynn gave him a smile that almost looked forced and asked, "So, Sam. What do you drink?"

He smiled back. "Anything, really."

"Let's get you a Budweiser," she said, turning and walking towards the bar.

Sam followed her, suddenly unable to keep a smile off his face.

* * *

Dean crossed the room and took a seat on one of the rickety stools along the counter. The redheaded bartender approached him with a rag in her hand, looking distracted. "What do you need?" she asked.

He flashed a winning smile at her. "I'll start with a PBR," he said.

The bartender turned around and bent over the cooler to get the requested beer. A grin spread across his face as he checked out her behind. She straightened and slid the bottle across the countertop.

"So," he asked, still grinning. "What's your name?"

She raised her eyebrow. "What's _your_ name?" she countered, a sly smile crossing her face.

He smirked. "Tom."

"Tom," the redhead repeated, nodding slowly. "You're not from around here, are you Tom?"

"No," he agreed. "I'm not."

"Oh, please," a very familiar voice announced. "DeeDee, don't you dare flirt with this idiot, or I'm going to have to stop talking to you."

Dean turned his head in shock to find Jayne Gibson on the barstool beside him, nursing a beer of her own.

"Well, well," he smirked. "If it isn't Goldilocks."

"His name's Dean," she went on, still addressing the bartender. "Dean Winchester. And he probably has herpes."

"Hey!" Dean protested, clearly offended. "I don't have herpes!"

Jayne rolled her eyes and jerked her thumb at him. "_He_ says."

The bartender laughed. "I take it you two know one another," she said.

"Unfortunately," Jayne drawled, taking a sip of her beer.

"Yeah, it's not exactly a picnic for me, either," Dean retorted.

The bartender laughed a second time. "I'm Delilah Hannigan," she announced, extending her hand to Dean. "But everyone calls me DeeDee."

Dean shook her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, DeeDee," he grinned, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

DeeDee smirked at him. Then someone called her name from down the bar, and DeeDee rolled her eyes. "Sorry, guys," she said. "Duty calls."

She disappeared, intent on waiting on another customer. Jayne took another swig of her beer. Dean looked over at her, wearing a smirk. "So…" he began, but Jayne cut him off.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked in a rather nasty voice.

He was rather taken aback, but managed to keep the smirk on his face. "Why am I here?" he repeated. "Well, according to Sam, I'm here because any information your pal Rufus has about your brother might be useful in finding my Dad."

Jayne nodded, studying Dean carefully. She knew Lynn had told Sam about Rufus calling them up to tell them he'd seen Stephen. However, Lynn had never once mentioned Sam coming down to Kentucky to follow up.

"So, according to _you_, why are you here?" she asked.

Dean gave her another smirk. "Because my brother desperately wants in your stepsister's pants."

Jayne laughed.

Suddenly, a loud, whooping, very masculine shout echoed throughout the bar. Both Dean and Jayne jumped, startled. Slowly, a smirk started to spread across Jayne's face. She didn't turn around, just kept staring over the counter and sipping her beer.

Dean, on the other hand, frowned and turned around to get a look at whatever yahoo was shouting in the bar. He saw an extremely tall, muscular young man at the entrance, shrugging out of his flannel jacket and tossing it at the nearest patron. The guy shouted something at him, obviously annoyed, and Mr. Muscles threw his head back and laughed.

His bright red hair was buzzed close to his scalp and he had freckles all over his body. His light blue eyes fell on Dean and Jayne.

The redheaded loudmouth let loose another whoop. "Is that Jaynie Gibson?" he crowed.

Dean glanced over at Jayne, who refused to turn around. However, her smirk grew larger.

The young man raced across the bar and grabbed Jayne around the waist, lifting her off the barstool and giving her a huge hug that closely resembled a wrestling hold.

"I knew that was Jaynie Gibson!" he shouted, still hugging her.

"Damn it, Danny!" Jayne shouted back.

"I knew it! Ha! Hey there, best friend!"

"Put me down!"

"No! Never!"

"Danny, I'm going to kick you in the nuts _so_ hard!"

"All right, all right," he relented, plopping her back down on the barstool. "Sheesh, Gibson. When did you get to be such a stick in the mud?"

Jayne glared at him over her shoulder in a way that suggested she wasn't anywhere near upset. He smirked at her. "For the record," she announced. "I'm not your best friend."

"Actually," he replied, wagging a finger in her face. "You _are_ my best friend. Out of all my friends, I like you best. That makes you my best friend. What you mean to say is that _I'm_ not _your _best friend."

He leaned down close to her as he finished his last sentence. Jayne made a face. "So what, Danny?" she asked. "They don't hand out toothbrushes in prison?"

He smacked her in the arm. "Shut up."

She smacked him back.

"For the record," he said. "I was in a holding cell, not a prison."

"Because that's so much better. So, we're getting into bar brawls now, are we?"

"You know me, Gibson. I live life on the edge."

After saying that, Danny turned to Dean, who had been watching this exchange the whole time with a fairly incredulous look on his face. He rested his elbow on Jayne's shoulder like she was some sort of arm rest. "Who are you?" he asked rudely.

Dean was taken aback. Jayne laughed. "This is Dean Winchester," she answered his question. "He's a hunter. Dean, this is Danny Hannigan, Rufus' son. Another hunter."

"Nice to meet you," Dean grinned at Danny, trying to make nice.

Danny stared at him. He didn't seem ready to reciprocate. "Hunter, eh?" he asked. "And how do you know Gibson?"

"We met on a job," Jayne said, again answering for Dean. "Out in Lost Creek, Colorado. Lynn and I were hunting a wendigo out in the woods there, and we ran into Dean and his brother, Sam."

"Yeah?" Danny replied. "What's he doing here now?"

Dean couldn't believe the gall of this guy. He was talking about him as though he wasn't sitting right there! And Jayne – of course she was playing right along. Where was DeeDee? At least _she_ was hot.

Jayne shrugged and grinned. "Dean's little brother is stalking Lynn."

"Oh yeah?" Danny asked. "Want me to kick his ass?"

Jayne laughed. "No thanks, Danny. I'm pretty sure she likes it."

He snorted. "She would."

"So, can I get you another PBR?" DeeDee's voice asked suddenly. Dean looked up in surprise to see the sexy redheaded bartender sidling up to him on the other side of the bar.

He made eye contact, grinned, and pointed at a bottle on the shelf behind her head. "Whiskey. Jack. Double shot."

She grinned back. "You got it."

Danny frowned at his sister's back as she got Dean's drink. "Hey!" he shouted indignantly. "No hello? Where's my damn drink?"

"You don't get one," DeeDee retorted, sliding the shot glass across the bar to Dean's waiting hand. She leaned on the bar, her cleavage suddenly popping out of her tank top twice as much. Dean was immediately very thankful for the invention of the low-cut shirt. DeeDee smirked at her older brother. "We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. Felons are on the list."

Danny snorted. "I'm not a felon!"

"Not yet."

"Get me a drink!"

"Never!"

He glared at her. "Worst sister ever."

She smirked again. "Worst brother ever."

Danny glared a little while longer, and then smirked back. "You know, maybe we'd do better business if our bartender served _all_ our patrons, including her older brother, instead of flirting with the fresh meat."

DeeDee didn't appear even remotely embarrassed. "I do serve all our patrons," she returned triumphantly. "We'd do better business if _you'd_ stop beating them all up."

"That was one guy!"

"One guy is enough. You're such a dumb jock, you know that?"

"Am not!"

"Moron!"

"Slut!"

DeeDee smirked and turned away from them in order to wait on another customer. "I'd rather be slutty than stupid!"

"You're both!" Danny called after her.

Jayne rolled her eyes at him. "That was mature," she announced.

He smirked at her. "Baby, I don't do mature."

"I noticed."

Danny turned on Dean. "So, you hitting on my little sister?"

Dean started. He tried to grin and replied, rather clumsily, "Um… no, well, I mean…"

"Relax, Winchester," Danny interrupted. "I'm not going to bust your head for giving my sister what she wants." He smirked. "I just like making you nervous."

Dean gave him a half-hearted laugh. "Yeah. Right. Good job."

"You go ahead and flirt with DeeDee all you want," Danny drawled, draping his arm lazily around Jayne's shoulders. "But hands off Gibson. She's mine."

"Get off me," Jayne replied.

Danny ignored her, focusing on Dean. "She just doesn't know it yet," he went on, giving him a smirk.

Jayne rolled her eyes, picked up Danny's arm, and removed it from her shoulders. "I'm… going to go say hi to Sam," she announced, getting up off her stool.

"Where do you think you're going, little lady?"

Jayne blinked up at the speaker in surprise. Then a huge smile spread across her face. "Rufus!" she exclaimed.

Rufus was a tall, broad shouldered man with a huge beer gut and a head full of thick red hair. He had a full red beard and moustache that hid most of his lined and weathered face. Opening his arms wide, he grinned down at Jayne and said, "Well, get on over here, Jaynie, and give me a hug!"

She did exactly as requested. Dean was surprised. Jayne didn't exactly seem like the hugging type. But she hugged Rufus, and he hugged her back like she was a long lost daughter.

It was odd to see such a huge, genuine smile on Jayne's face. She rarely smiled, and when she did it was a small, ironic, almost bitter smile. Dean couldn't help but think that when she smiled like that she was actually rather pretty, which was a word he'd yet to apply to the usually quiet, sarcastic, tomboyish Jayne.

"It's good to see you, Jaynie," Rufus said, finally letting go.

Jayne nodded. "Right back at you."

Both their smiles faded. "Where's that stepsister of yours at?" Rufus inquired.

Jayne jerked her thumb towards the end of the bar. "Down there somewhere."

He sighed heavily. "Well, you best go get her. We got lots to talk about."

"What did he tell you?" Jayne asked, almost desperately. "Is he all right?"

"Go on and get your sister," was all Rufus would say. "We'll talk in my office."

The aging hunter made his way behind the bar and headed for the back rooms. Jayne watched him go with an expression that very nearly succeeded at concealing her nervousness. Then she turned away from both Dean and Danny and went searching for Lynn.

* * *

"I want you to meet DeeDee Hannigan," Lynn announced, gesturing at the redheaded bartender serving their drinks.

Sam recognized her immediately as the girl Dean had been checking out. He mustered up a smile, and shook DeeDee's outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you," he said, smiling.

She smiled back. "Sam Winchester, huh?" she asked. "You know, I just met your brother, Dean."

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked, clinging dearly to his smile.

"Yeah," DeeDee replied. "He tried to tell me his name was Tom."

Sam gave her a half-hearted grin. "He does that sometimes."

"Is it always Tom?" she asked. "Or does he switch it up?"

"He switches it up," Sam said. "But Tom does seem to be a favorite."

DeeDee laughed. "Well, you can tell him most girls aren't attracted to liars."

Sam repeated his half-hearted grin. "I'll definitely pass that along."

Lynn looked almost worried. "Is he sitting up there with Jayne?"

"Yep," DeeDee replied, smirking. "Jayne and Danny."

"Danny?" Lynn asked, her eyes big.

"That's your brother?" Sam inquired.

DeeDee nodded. "Yep. Sorry to say. Lucky for _your_ brother, he's been hitting on me. Hate to say what Danny would do to his face if he was hitting on Jayne."

Lynn snorted. "When is that boy going to understand that it's over?"

Her friend raised an eyebrow and gave her a pointed look. "When your stepsister starts acting like it's over."

Lynn huffed, mildly offended. "Jayne is _not_ leading your brother on, DeeDee. She wouldn't do that."

"I didn't say she was leading Danny on," DeeDee retorted. "All I'm saying is that Jayne hasn't been so quick to move on herself. And it's not really leading someone on if you actually _do_ still have feelings for them."

Sam found the look on Lynn's face sort of amusing. Clearly her loyalty to her stepsister made her want to further defend Jayne. Yet there must have been some truth to DeeDee's suggestion, because there was also a grudging acquiescence in Lynn's eyes.

Someone down the bar hollered at DeeDee, and she rolled her eyes. "Sorry guys. On the clock and all."

"Wait!" Lynn called after her. "You want to do a search of the property tonight?"

"Sounds good!" DeeDee called over her shoulder.

"Search of the property?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Lynn replied. "DeeDee's into spirit photography. She thinks something weird might have followed our brother here and then settled in. After he left, she took some of her psychic photographs and picked up on what might be some demonic type entities."

Crap. Sam could safely say that DeeDee's spirit photography might have actually picked something up. He remembered his nightmare, wondering if maybe one of those entities was going to start that fire.

"Sounds cool," Sam said. He didn't what else _to_ say, except for "Mind if I come with you?"

Lynn looked mildly surprised. She stared at him for a moment, and then very slowly, a gentle smile settled on her face. "Sure. I'd like that."

Sam stared back at her, a smile slowly spreading across his face too. She was really pretty when she smiled. She was _always_ pretty, actually, but particularly when she smiled.

That one thought was all it took to kill his grin. He couldn't think like that. Not when there was already so many other things he had to think about.

"Hey," Jayne's voice sounded in his ear. He swiveled around to find her at his side, staring at Lynn. "Rufus is back. He wants to talk to us in his office."

"Oh," Lynn said, getting up off the stool. "All right. I'll be right there."

"Hurry up," Jayne replied. She turned away and headed for the back. "Hi, Sam," she said shortly as she passed him.

Sam watched her walk away. "Hi, Jayne," he replied, even though she was no longer in ear shot.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Sam. She's got a one track mind. See you later."

She walked off in the same direction her stepsister had. Sam sighed and returned to his beer.

Meanwhile, Lynn fought her way through the crowded tavern towards Rufus' office. As she passed the rear entrance, she glanced out the window and saw a dark shape flit across the yard.

Lynn froze. She peered out the window, trying to see where the shape had gone. There was nothing in the yard.

She glanced over her shoulder towards Rufus' office. She knew Jayne and Rufus were waiting on her, but curiosity was getting the better of her. Her gaze returned to the window.

Again, a dark shape scurried through a patch of moonlight and disappeared into a shadow.

That was it. Lynn opened the door cautiously and stepped out into the yard.

It was eerie out there in the seemingly empty yard, the light from the moon casting unnatural shadows on the buildings. She couldn't hear a sound other than the ruckus coming from the bar, and that struck her as odd. It was much too quiet out there.

Lynn considered going back inside and getting Jayne. But then she noticed that the barn doors were wide open and one of them was swinging back and forth, as though someone had brushed past it on their way inside.

She dug her tiny pocket flashlight out of her jeans and pulled her pistol out of her waistband. Slowly, apprehensively, she crossed the lawn and stepped inside the barn.

"Hello?" she called.

There was no response. Lynn hadn't really expected one. It struck her that calling out like that was rather dumb. Suddenly even more nervous, she began circling the inside of the large building, shining her flashlight into the corners.

There was nothing and nobody lurking in the dark barn. Lynn suddenly felt ridiculous. The dark shape had probably been nothing but a wild animal. A raccoon or something.

She turned towards the barn doors and made her way to the exit. By now, Rufus and Jayne were probably beyond impatient.

That's when the barn exploded.

* * *

Jayne sat back in the chair, examining the split ends at the bottom of her braid. Across the desk sat Rufus, methodically drumming his fingers on the tabletop.

Where the hell was Lynn?

She was getting impatient. More than impatient. Rufus had something important to tell her about her missing little brother, and she wanted to hear it. What's more, she wanted to hear it now. Jayne was so sick of all this secretive, overdramatic, 'let's drag everything out' bull shit that the people in her life seemed so fond of. She wanted Rufus' information, and she wanted to leave. Enough was enough.

And now, of all people, her stepsister was the one holding up the program.

Where was she? What could she _possibly_ be doing? Oh, she was _so_ going to kick that girl's ass. Jayne swore that if she found Lynn engaged in some sort of nauseating lip-lock with Sam Winchester, she would have her stepsister's head.

That was the other thing. What the hell were those two boys doing here? She'd just about had it with running into those two dummies. Just because Lynn and Sam had developed some sort of sick, unhealthy, unnatural crush on one another that they couldn't just admit they had developed, Jayne got punished. Jayne had to put up with extra people in her life, and Jayne hated people. What was worse was that while Lynn and Sam were making up excuses to be in the same room with one another, Jayne repeatedly got stuck with Dean. And Jayne didn't want to be stuck with Dean. He drove her nuts.

It wasn't that she didn't like Dean. Or maybe it _was_ that she didn't like Dean. Oh, hell, Jayne didn't know. All she knew was that he had a way of getting under her skin that irked her beyond all reason. She hated the way he called her Goldilocks, she hated that infuriating little smirk of his, and most of all, she hated that he had the prettiest eyes of any man or woman that Jayne had ever met.

She forced Dean Winchester's eyes out of her head. As crazy as his presence made her, there was one person who was pissing her off even more at the moment, and that person was Lynn. Lynn and her stupid puppy-dog crush. Lynn and her cell phone fondling. Lynn and her rejection of her younger brother. That last one drove Jayne up the wall like nothing else. Stephen was their _brother_, for Christ's sake. Hell, he was more than that. Jayne had _raised_ him, she had been the only mother he'd ever known – except for Lynn, she supposed – and she desperately needed to find him. It didn't matter that Stephen didn't want to be found. Jayne _needed_ to find him, and she was going to. She'd track him down like a dog and chain him up in the bed of her truck if necessary. He was coming home, wherever home was for the moment, whether he liked it or not.

Rufus cleared his throat, folding his large, weather-beaten hands across his beer belly. "Where the hell is that girl?" he asked.

Jayne shrugged. "Got me by the ass."

That's when they heard the explosion.

* * *

Sam was watching the exchange that was occurring between Dean and the Hannigan siblings with ever-increasing amusement. He had come over and taken a seat beside his brother in the wake of Lynn's absence, hoping for company, or at the very least, a good show.

Sam was not disappointed.

"Lynn says Jaynie wants no part of you," DeeDee had joyously informed her older brother. Clearly, she had done it just to stir things up, because Sam knew for a fact that Lynn had said no such thing. Well, it might have been implied, but DeeDee's suggestion had obviously held more weight.

Oh, well. The last thing Sam was going to do was ruin anyone's fun. Sometimes older brothers needed to be knocked off their pedestals.

Danny snorted. His arrogance was hilarious. Sam was automatically reminded of Dean. "Please. All the ladies want a piece of this."

"The last lady you tried that on kneed you in the nuts."

"Clearly a lesbian."

Sam pretended to drink his beer in order to hide the laughter that was threatening to bubble up out of his mouth.

"She made out with Johnny Chamberlain immediately after that!"

"She must have mistaken him for another girl! An easy mistake."

DeeDee rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, Danny. Lynn says that in Jaynie's eyes, your twisted little relationship is over. She's not interested."

"Gibson always says she's not interested, even when she actually is."

Sam heard that line with interest. Danny's joking manner was still in tact, but the way he said that last sentence seemed to suggest that there was an element of truth to the statement. He wouldn't be surprised if that was so. From the little he'd seen of Jayne, and the lot that Lynn had told him, pretending not to care when she actually did was something Jayne was particularly good at.

Except when it came to Stephen.

DeeDee shrugged. "True," she admitted.

"What do you think, Winchester?" Danny asked, turning on Dean.

Sam silenced his chuckle.

Dean blinked up at the huge redhead. "Uh… well… I don't know… I don't really know Jayne very well…"

"But from what you do know," Danny pressed. "How would you read her mental state?"

Dean frowned at him. "What?"

"I wouldn't ask him questions like that about his girl," DeeDee murmured. She sounded exactly like someone _pretending_ that they didn't want to be overheard.

Sam was pretty sure that if he tried to hold in any more of his laughter, his spleen would implode.

Danny's blue eyes turned hard and cold. His freckled face turned even redder than his hair. "_What_?!"

Dean glowered at DeeDee. "Why?" he asked.

She smirked at him. "No one tries to get into my pants with a fake name."

Sam laughed out loud.

Danny turned on Dean, leaping up from his chair and leaning in far too close to the other hunter's face. "You trying to get with my girl?" he demanded.

"Your girl?" DeeDee asked, snorting and rolling her eyes. "Exactly how many shots did you weasel out of Beatrice?"

Dean tried to smile at Danny. "Look, man, I don't want any trouble. I, uh… your sister's trying to be funny. Really. Jayne and I? That's… that's just… never happen."

"Why not?" Danny snapped.

Dean frowned. "What?"

"You calling my girl unattractive?"

"No!"

"So you admit that you're attracted to her?"

"What? I… no… I mean… look, man, I don't know what you want me to say!"

The way Sam saw it, this exchange could only end one of two ways: either Danny was going to kick the living crap out of Dean, or he was going to suddenly sit down and laugh, announcing that Dean was the most gullible sucker he'd ever known. Judging from what he'd seen of Danny so far, either option seemed likely.

But neither one of those two things happened. Instead, the tavern was suddenly rocked by a loud explosion.

Everyone inside the pub started screaming and shouting. Dean and Danny looked around, shocked, trying to discover the source of the noise. "What the hell was that?" DeeDee exclaimed, shouting to be heard over the panicking mob.

Sam's reaction was a little different. He knew immediately what had caused that explosion.

He wasted no time in racing towards the back doors. It took longer than he had wanted it to because of all the frightened drunks that he had to push out of his path. But eventually he made it to the door and burst out into the barnyard behind the tavern.

The large barn that stood behind Hannigan's Pub was engulfed in flames.

Maybe Lynn was right, Sam thought to himself as he raced towards the burning building. Maybe he was having psychic visions after all.

* * *


	16. Rage

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thank you to winchesterxgirl, Nelle07, guardian music angel, 3pointheartbeat, FragrantPrincess, Heavenstar3, and Me for the reviews!

I know I haven't updated since the beginning of November, and I'm sorry. It's been a rough few weeks. Anyway, sorry for the wait, and thanks again to my reviewers!

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Chapter 16: Rage

Sam would have known the fire was bad even if he couldn't see it. He was still fairly far from the blaze, but he could feel the heat radiating off the doomed barn in front of him and it burned his face and hands. The closer he got to the barn, the hotter the air got around him. He ignored the heat and the roaring flames and the smoke that kept getting thicker and thicker as he got closer and closer. Finally Sam reached the barn doors, which were swaying in the hot gusts of wind coming off the burning building.

He pulled the collar of his coat up around his nostrils as he pushed his way in through the doors. The heat immediately intensified tenfold. Sam pressed his coat tighter against his face. The smoke in that place was both blinding and suffocating.

Sam ducked down closer to the ground, trying frantically to see through the smog. He navigated his way through the ever growing flames. Finally, towards the center of the barn, he saw the prostrate figure lying face down on the floor, a mop of wavy black hair fanned out around the skull.

He clambered to Lynn's side and rolled her over on her back. She was out for the count. Sam glanced around the barn nervously. The flames were getting higher and the smoke was getting thicker. Without a second thought, Sam lifted her off the ground into his arms and got swiftly to his feet. The path to the door was still unblocked. Sam raced towards the exit and tore through the doors.

The fire behind him crackled. He heard the barn start to collapse. Sam kept running until he was a safe distance away and then fell to his knees, laying Lynn out on the dusty ground before him.

People were starting to race out of the tavern. "Sammy?" he heard his brother shout.

He glanced up momentarily to see Dean, DeeDee, and Danny running across the barnyard towards him. Sam turned back to Lynn, feeling her pulse. It was still going strong. He bent down over her face, and felt her breath hit his cheek.

Thank God.

Sam tapped her face repeatedly. "Lynn?" he shouted at her. "Lynn! Come on, wake up! Lynn?"

"Sammy? Sammy, are you all right?" Dean shouted at him, reaching his side. His older brother fell to his knees next to him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam replied hastily. He continued patting Lynn's face. "Lynn? Lynn!"

Dean punched him in the arm.

Surprised, Sam looked up briefly from the unconscious girl in front of him. "What the hell was that for?"

"You idiot!" Dean shouted at him. "Who the hell do you think you are, the Incredible Hulk? You don't go racing into burning buildings, Sam!"

Sam gave his brother an incredulous look. "Dean, you race into burning buildings all the time!"

"Do not!"

"Stanford?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "That was completely different."

"How so?"

Dean didn't have an answer for that. "Idiot," he muttered again, and dropped it.

"Lynn?"

At the sound of DeeDee's voice, Sam looked up to see the Hannigan siblings kneeling beside Lynn's body as well. "Oh my God," DeeDee exclaimed.

Sam returned to tapping Lynn's face. "Lynn! Wake up, come on!"

She started coughing uncontrollably. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as she started to come around.

"Lynn!"

All four of the people hovering over Lynn looked up, startled by the shout. "Oh, no," Danny murmured. "Jaynie."

Sam looked up briefly to see Rufus and Jayne fighting their way through the crowd. As soon as she was free of the spectators, Jayne raced towards the little group huddled in the grass, her expression horrified.

Lynn's coughing was interrupted by a moan. "Sam?" she asked hoarsely.

He looked back down and saw her frowning up at him in confusion. "What the hell just…" She started coughing all over again, and had to restart her sentence. "What the hell just happened?"

Sam sighed and glanced over at the burning barn. "That's a good question," he replied.

Jayne had reached them now, but her path to her stepsister was blocked by Danny. He caught her in his huge arms and held her back. "Whoa, Gibson, kill your motor."

"Let go of me, Danny," she snarled.

"Is that Jayne?" Lynn practically croaked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. She's right here."

"I just want you to calm down."

"I am calm!"

"Really? That doesn't sound very calm to me!"

"Hey! Danny!" Dean hollered at the huge redhead, getting to his feet. Sam blinked at his brother in surprise. "Let her go!"

Danny looked over at Dean, his face as surprised as Sam's. He loosened his hold on Jayne, and she brushed past him, racing to her stepsister's side. "Thanks," she said shortly as she passed Dean.

Lynn was trying to sit up now. Sam placed his hand against the small of her back and helped her up. Even after she was sitting, Sam still didn't remove his hand.

"What happened?" Jayne demanded.

Lynn shrugged. "Wish I knew."

Jayne turned on Sam, and Sam immediately flinched at the hard look in her eyes. "What happened?" she repeated.

He shrugged too. Jayne looked ready to spit fire, so he said hurriedly, "I'm not sure. All I know is that we heard the explosion, and I ran out here to see the barn was on fire. I remembered seeing Lynn leave the tavern, and I thought…"

Jayne turned on Lynn. "Why did you leave?"

"I thought I saw something out in the yard. A shadow. I just wanted to see what…"

"You went poking around out here for demons?" Jayne snapped. "Alone?"

"Well… yeah…"

"It didn't occur to you to come get me? Or Rufus? Or DeeDee, or Danny, or Sam, or Dean? There were only six people to chose from, Lynn!"

"Stop shouting at me!" she exclaimed as loudly as she could. She promptly coughed. The smoke had definitely gotten to her. "I'm sorry, Jayne. I didn't think…"

"That's damn right you didn't think."

The two stepsisters stared one another down. Suddenly, Lynn smiled. "All right, Jayne. You can go ahead and just get it over with. Give me a hug."

Jayne glowered at her. "I am not hugging you."

"You know you want to."

They stared at one another some more. Then Jayne wrapped her arms around her stepsister and hugged her tight.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Lynn said quietly.

"I know," Jayne murmured, releasing her stepsister. "I'm… I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

"I'll live."

Jayne glanced at Sam. "You pulled her out, didn't you?" she asked suddenly, understanding lighting her face.

Sam blushed and nodded.

"All right," Rufus' voice suddenly sounded out from behind the group. Everyone jumped in surprise. No one had realized he was there. "Lynn? You going to make it?"

"Yeah," she wheezed. "Sorry about the barn, Rufus."

"Why?" he asked. "You set it on fire?"

She frowned. "No."

"Then don't be sorry," he said. "Now, the fire department's on their way, so you kids better move back. DeeDee, did you set up one of the guest rooms for Jayne and Lynn?"

DeeDee nodded. "Yes, Dad."

"Good. These boys friends of yours, Jaynie?"

Jayne looked startled. She glanced at Dean and Sam and sort of shrugged. "Uh…. well… sure."

"Uh, well, sure?" Rufus repeated. He glanced over at his daughter. "DeeDee, go make up a room for the boys."

"You got it, Dad," she said, getting to her feet and racing towards the tavern.

Rufus turned to the other five. "What do you think, Lynn? You need medical attention?"

She shook her head. "No, sir. I'll be fine."

"All right. You. Tall kid."

Sam started in surprise. "Me?"

"Take her up to her bed. And don't let her talk you out of helping her. No matter what she says, she's _not_ 'perfectly fine.' Jayne, you go with them. Show him the guest room. Take care of your sis, as I know you're dying to do."

Jayne nodded and got to her feet. Rufus turned to Danny and Dean. "I got a tavern full of drunk people to throw out," he announced. "Danny?"

"On it," Danny said, making his way towards the crowd.

Rufus looked over at Dean. "Name, son?"

"Dean Winchester," Dean replied automatically.

"Dean. All right, Dean, you help me and Danny. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Dean nodded. He followed Rufus as the hunter went off in the direction his son had.

Sam stared at their retreating backs. Something about that scene had been oddly familiar. Rufus' take charge attitude, the immediate obedience of everyone around him…

Rufus Hannigan was a redheaded John Winchester.

Shaking his head, Sam stood up and extended his hand to Lynn. She took it and let him haul her to his feet. On standing, her knees buckled and she fell forward into his chest.

Sam grabbed her tightly, swallowing at the close contact. Lynn was covered in soot and sounded like she was hacking up a lung – yet there was still something about her that Sam found incredibly attractive. "Maybe I should carry you," he suggested, trying not to stutter.

She shook her head. "I'll be all right. I promise."

He smiled teasingly at her. "Yeah? Well, Rufus says you're not to be trusted."

Lynn smirked. "Rufus says a lot of things. Most of them true. Seriously Sam, I'll be ok."

He nodded and wrapped an arm tightly around her waist. She leaned against him. Sam gripped her arm with his free hand.

"You really don't have to help me, either," she went on. "Jayne could probably manage just fine."

"No," Sam disagreed. "I definitely have to help you."

"Really? Why's that?"

"If I don't, Rufus will kill me."

"Ah. Well, you're not wrong there."

They followed Jayne through the throng of people that Rufus, Dean, and Danny were trying to get rid of. Jayne led them inside the tavern and behind the bar. There was an old staircase way in the back nearby the storerooms, and the three of them clambered up the steps.

Lynn clung tighter to Sam's arm as they went. She didn't look so good. He found himself worrying about her.

Jayne led them into one of the rooms in the upstairs hall. Sam supported Lynn to one of the two beds, helping her lay down. Lynn watched her stepsister out of the corner of her eye, waiting until she disappeared into the hall, muttering something about water.

Once Jayne left, Lynn turned to Sam. "Thanks," she said quietly. She uncharacteristically lowered her eyes, suddenly embarrassed. "You, uh… well, let's be frank. You saved my life tonight."

Sam blushed, not looking at her. "Yeah, well… don't mention it."

"Don't mention it?" she snorted. "You saved my life, Sam, I have to mention it."

He shrugged, uncomfortable. Lynn frowned at him. "Hey," she said curiously. "How did you know I was out there, anyway?"

Sam felt mildly panicky and couldn't account for why. "Oh, um, well… it's like I told Jayne. I remembered seeing you go out the back door, and when I heard the explosion, I thought…"

"Bull, Sam," Lynn interrupted. "It was a good story, but I know you didn't watch me walk out of here."

He looked down at the floor, suddenly desperate to leave the room. Lynn frowned harder at him. "Did you have a nightmare about me?" she asked.

Sam started, looking up at her in surprise. That was all the proof she needed. "You did," she murmured.

"I… I didn't… why would you think…?"

"I guess I'm just observant," Lynn interrupted his ramblings. "You've got that dishonest shifty look you always get when it comes to your nightmares."

Sam fell silent.

"Why didn't you say something?" she asked. "Why didn't you tell me that was the reason you'd come out to Stamping Ground?"

There were about a million reasons why Sam hadn't told her about his dream. He hadn't wanted to worry her. He hadn't wanted her to think there was something wrong with him – that maybe he was somehow causing these things to happen. He hadn't wanted to admit that she'd been right about his nightmares. He hadn't wanted to confide in someone that he barely knew. He hadn't wanted to betray Dean by talking to Lynn and not him. He hadn't wanted to sit down with her and have this ultra-serious discussion that she seemed hell-bent on having. The list went on and on.

He shrugged, avoiding her eyes. "I don't know," he mumbled. "I was afraid you'd be… creeped out or something."

It was a shallow excuse, and she didn't buy it for a moment. He could tell she didn't buy it. But he'd say one thing for Lynn – she didn't betray a confidence. Before she could press the issue, Jayne returned to the room with some water for her stepsister, and Lynn immediately dropped the subject.

"Anyway, thanks Sam," she murmured.

He smiled and nodded. "Just get some rest," he said, getting to his feet.

Sam had never felt so relieved to leave a room before. He practically danced into the hallway. But before he could escape completely, he was stopped in his tracks by another young woman.

"Sam," Jayne's gruff voice called out into the hall.

He stopped and turned around. Now what? "Yeah?" he asked softly.

Jayne glanced over her shoulder into the bedroom and gently shut the door. She took a couple steps closer to the youngest of the Winchester brothers. "I know you pulled her out of the fire and everything," she said almost awkwardly. "You saved her life. I just wanted to thank you for that."

Sam blinked in surprise. Jayne continued on. "I know you didn't do it for me. I know you did it because you've got some sort of crush on my little sister. Or maybe you just did it because you're a hunter, and that's sort of what we're programmed to do. Either way, it doesn't matter. You saved my stepsister's life, and I'm grateful. I owe you one, Winchester."

Sam blinked again. He was pretty sure this was the most Jayne had ever spoken to him. It was mind-boggling.

She shrugged and half turned to go back. "So, thanks. You want to suck face with her or something, I won't stop you. No reason to fear the overprotective older sister. For now at least."

Sam forced a chuckle. "I don't want to… suck face…"

"Yeah, right, okay. Thanks again. Remember, I owe you."

Then she opened the bedroom door and disappeared inside.

Sam watched her leave, confused as hell.

* * *

When Jayne woke up the next morning, Lynn was still fast asleep in the bed next to hers. She sat up slowly and allowed herself a few moments to stare at her stepsister's sleeping form. Almost losing her last night in that fire had been… well, Jayne didn't want to think about it.

As much as she hated to admit it, she owed her stepsister's life to Sam Winchester. He'd singlehandedly pulled her from the blaze. The boy had to be mildly nuts to go running into a burning building like that, but Jayne wasn't going to complain. Sam's insanity was the reason Lynn was still here.

After staring at her stepsister for another minute or so, Jayne got up and got dressed. Lynn was going to be pissed about this, but Jayne couldn't wait a second longer to hear what Rufus had to say about Stephen. After almost losing her other sibling the night before, Jayne was more determined than ever to find her little brother.

She walked out of the room, but was quickly stopped by her stepsister's voice. "Jayne?" Lynn asked. "Where are you going?"

Jayne froze and turned around. "I was, uh… going to see Rufus."

Lynn sat up in her bed. "Without me?"

"I didn't want to wake you…"

"I'm coming."

Lynn leapt out of bed and started getting ready. Jayne sighed inwardly and announced. "All right, sounds good. I'll be downstairs." Then she stepped out of the room and made her way down the stairs. The tavern was empty, not yet open for customers. Sighing heavily, Jayne pulled one of the chairs down from a nearby table and took a seat, propping her feet up on the tabletop.

Her stepsister was taking for-fucking-ever. Jayne made a frustrated noise and began impatiently tapping her fingers on her thigh. She'd waited for so long, and she didn't think she could wait much longer. Her patience was wearing thin.

After what felt like an eternity, Lynn finally came down the stairs. "What the hell took you so long?" Jayne groused.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Sorry. Come on, let's go."

Jayne got up out of the chair and led her stepsister out the back door. They walked the short distance across the lawn to the Hannigan house. They entered through the back door without knocking and found Rufus in the kitchen, drinking some coffee and reading the newspaper. He seemed unbelievably at ease for someone who'd suffered a major fire on his property only the night before.

"Hey Rufus," Jayne greeted him.

"Good morning," Lynn added.

Rufus looked up from his paper. "Wondered when you two would be showing up," he announced, folding the newspaper in half and laying it on the table. "Want some coffee?"

"Sure," Jayne said, walking over to the coffee pot on the counter. She knew when Rufus offered something, it meant you had to go get it yourself. He didn't have to say it, she just knew. It was usually like that between them. There was something about Rufus that Jayne understood, and Rufus always seemed to understand her back. They were a lot alike.

Which was why Rufus, although he did love Lynn, liked Jayne better than her stepsister.

The two of them sat down at the table with newly poured coffee and waited for Rufus to start talking. He took a long drink from his coffee mug and then set it down carefully on the tabletop.

"Well," he said. "I guess you're here about your brother."

"That's right," Jayne agreed without missing a beat.

He smiled slightly. "You know, he didn't want me to tell you he'd stopped by," Rufus went on. "Seemed to think you'd try and track him from here."

"He's not wrong," Jayne returned.

Rufus nodded and took another sip of his coffee. "You girls aren't going to like what I'm going to tell you," he announced.

"Tell me," Jayne said.

He took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh. "I think you girls should stop following your brother."

There was a long silence. "What?" Lynn asked as though she couldn't believe the words had come out of Rufus' mouth.

Jayne didn't blame her. She could barely believe it either. "Stop following my brother?" she asked incredulously. "Why?"

Rufus took another deep breath. "Now hear me out, Jaynie…"

"Hear you out?" she snapped. "Did he put you up to this?"

"Now hold on just one damn second," Rufus retorted, starting to lose his infinite patience. "You know I don't work like that. This isn't about what your brother wants, it's about what I think is best for you girls. I think maybe you should let him be."

"Let him be?" Jayne all but shouted.

"That's right. Now just listen to me. That boy's in trouble…"

"Exactly," she interrupted. "He's in trouble. You expect me to step back and let him struggle?"

"Maybe that'd be best for him," Rufus returned.

Jayne glared at him.

"All that boy's life, you've done nothing but pull him out of the shit he managed to step in," Rufus said. "You cleaned up after him, prevented him from making mistakes, and mothered him like a regular hen. I know you meant well, Jaynie, but that boy will never learn if you don't let him! Now, I don't know what he's gotten himself into this time. He didn't tell me, and honestly? I didn't ask. But I'll tell you why he came to see me, and maybe you'll know what his visit meant. Your brother wanted to buy something off me. He wanted to buy some of that anti-demon protection stuff DeeDee makes for me."

"Protection stuff?" Lynn asked worriedly. "What kind of protection stuff?"

"Well that's just the thing, ain't it?" Rufus replied. "Stephen wanted goofa dust. Not just goofa dust, either. He wanted weasel eyes and angelica root too. He even borrowed one of those books I got back in the library. Girls, your brother's stepped in something hot, and if he wants you to back off, I say you back off."

"I'm not going to back off," Jayne practically growled.

Rufus sighed. "Jaynie, I know you want to protect the boy. But I think maybe the boy wants to protect you too. Stephen went and got himself into something bad. Something demonic."

Jayne glowered at him some more. Rufus gave her a patient look. "I know you won't back off," he said. "But I thought it was worth a shot. Anyway, girls, I've told you all I know. Stephen rolled into town, he bought DeeDee's stuff, and then he rolled on out of here without telling a soul where he'd been or where he was going."

Jayne finished her coffee. "Thanks Rufus," she said. "Can you tell me which way he rolled out of town?"

Rufus nodded. "He was headed towards Georgetown," he said.

* * *

Less than half an hour later, Jayne was packing furiously in the guestroom over the tavern. Lynn was arguing with her.

"We have a job," she was saying.

Jayne didn't want to hear it. She wasn't in the mood for Lynn's bullshit. "You're damn right we have a job," she retorted. "It's called taking care of our little brother."

Lynn sighed. "I know. But we also told DeeDee…"

"We told DeeDee what?" Jayne snapped. "That we'd investigate the dust spots on her camera lens? I'm sure as hell not sticking around for that shit, Lynn. I'm going after Stephen."

"So let me get this straight," Lynn said slowly. Condescendingly. Grating on Jayne's nerves. "Rufus tells you Stephen went and got involved in something demonic. And you just want to go on and jump in the fire? You don't want to know what you're up against first?"

"Well, it'd be nice," Jayne returned sarcastically. "But we don't always get that option."

"We've been given that option!" Lynn argued. "DeeDee thinks the entities she picked up on film followed Stephen here. If we can figure out what they are and what they want, maybe we can figure out what Stephen got mixed up in!"

"Entities my ass," Jayne snorted. "There's nothing demonic here, Lynn. Not a damn thing. Now stop stalling. Stop trying to get in more face time with Sam Winchester, or whatever the hell it is you're doing. Our brother…"

"You stop it," Lynn interrupted angrily. "What do you think this is, a middle school dance? You think I'm out here trying to trap a man? Damn it, Jayne, what has gotten into you lately? You really think that low of me?"

Jayne glared at her stepsister. "What's gotten into me? What's gotten into _you_? Here you are, mooning after that stupid hunter boy – who, by the way, is only twenty two. He's the same age as our younger brother, Lynn, and you're chasing after him like a hungry cougar! You've disregarded everything I've said, you've monopolized our hunts, you've neglected our search for Stephen, and you keep joining up with people that you don't know you can trust!"

"You don't trust the Winchesters?" Lynn asked incredulously. "I thought we were past all that."

Jayne rolled her eyes. "It's not about whether they proved trustworthy or not! It's about trusting them too soon, before we knew they were all right. It's about putting your libido first and…"

"Stop saying things like that! This isn't about my goddamn libido – and please, don't ever say that word again. I'm just trying to be smart about this, Jayne. Stephen deliberately threw us off his trail. Even Rufus thinks we should back off…"

"So that's it then? You really do want to give up on our brother? The only family we've got left."

"No! Of course I don't want to give up on our brother! I want to know what our brother's running from so that we don't get killed trying to help him! We're no good to him dead, Jayne! We need to know what's going on!"

"So you think snooping around the Hannigan property is going to give us a hint?"

"Don't take that tone of voice with me. Like I'm an idiot or something. You never see what you don't want to see…"

"I see plenty I don't want to see."

"Would you just listen to me? Do you really think that fire started naturally? Do you really think it was a coincidence?"

"That barn is a thousand years old! It's full of old farm equipment that's probably been dripping oil for the past decade! Rufus even keeps his damn gas tanks in there! It was a fire waiting to happen!"

"It was not! No one's as careful as Rufus. Goddamn it, don't you see? Doesn't this feel wrong? We loose our brother. We meet the Winchesters – who, incidentally, lost their father. The thing that killed our mother _and_ their mother twenty-two years ago suddenly strikes again – and it kills Sam's girlfriend, of all people. Then a fire nearly kills _me_? On the Hannigan property? A place that DeeDee said was entirely void of demons and spirits until Stephen, our missing brother, showed up for a weekend visit. Our missing brother, who bought homemade, anti-demon protection goods from Rufus?"

Jayne had had enough. In fact, she'd had enough of Lynn a long time ago. "What is it you're so afraid of?" she asked almost cruelly. "Why don't you want to find our brother?"

"What is it _you're _so afraid of?" Lynn retorted, equally cruel. "Why are you so afraid to slow down? Why don't you want to find out _why_ Stephen's gone?"

"You're a selfish bitch," Jayne snapped. "You only care about yourself. Everything's got to go your way. It doesn't matter what anyone else wants."

Lynn stared at her stepsister in shock. She blinked suddenly, as though she was on the verge of tears. Jayne normally would have felt bad, but she didn't. She didn't feel anything at all, except for… rage.

Her stepsister narrowed her eyes and said, sounding equally angry, "And you're a cold, distant, psychological mess. You won't let anyone in. You hold everyone at an arm's length. And yet deep down, you're terrified everyone's going to leave you."

Jayne knocked her suitcase to the floor. "Watch your mouth, Lynn," she said, knocking her shoulder against her stepsister's as she walked past. "Or everyone _will_ leave _you_."

She stepped out into the hallway, slamming the door behind her. Then she stormed downstairs.

Her mind was reeling. What had provoked that argument? Why had she said what she had said? Why had Lynn said the things she said? It was true; Lynn and Jayne were completely different people. But Jayne loved her stepsister. And the two of them never fought like this. They usually got along excellently. Jayne could honestly say that Lynn was her best friend.

Yet the argument had happened. And as confused as Jayne was, she wasn't sorry. She was furious. There was a strange, unfamiliar type of rage burning in her core.

* * *

Dean was feeling antsy. He wanted to leave Stamping Ground. In fact, he hadn't even wanted to come to Stamping Ground in the first place. The only reason he was here right now was because of Sam. Somehow, Sammy had gotten it into his head that Dad's disappearance had something to do with the missing Stephen Juarez – which, if you asked Dean, was just grasping for straws. So now they were hanging around in freaking Kentucky of all places, waiting for Rufus Hannigan to spill the information he had on Stephen to Jayne and Lynn. Dean wasn't too thrilled about all of this. It just didn't seem likely that finding Stephen Juarez would bring them any closer to finding John Winchester. What they should be doing, he thought rather bitterly to himself, is hunting.

He sighed, drumming his fingers on the table he was sitting at. At this rate, they were never going to get to Bixby, Arizona.

The room Rufus had let them stay in wasn't too bad. The beds were comfortable, and that was always nice. A comfortable bed wasn't always a guarantee when you stopped at a motel. And DeeDee had told them to help themselves to the coffee in the bar – which was why Dean was sitting in the empty bar, long before it opened, nursing a mug of joe.

Across the table Sam was doing the very same thing. He too seemed rather anxious. Dean was getting impatient. Scratch that – he _was_ impatient. He wondered if Jayne or Lynn had spoken to Rufus yet. He wondered what Rufus had told them. And he wondered if Sam was going to make him follow Jayne and Lynn around instead of going to Bixby.

That would royally piss him off.

Sam sighed suddenly. "I wonder if Jayne and Lynn talked to Rufus yet," he announced.

Dean nodded, sipping his coffee. "You read my mind," he replied.

His younger brother stared into his mug. "I wonder what caused that fire last night," he murmured.

Dean shrugged. "Shit happens."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think it was an accident, Dean. Before it happened, I was talking to Lynn and DeeDee, and they were talking about searching the property for spirits or something. I guess DeeDee's into spirit photography and…"

Dean snorted.

The snort earned him a dirty look from his brother. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Hands up in surrender, Dean replied, "Nothing, man. I just don't think 'spirit photography' is really the most reliable way to pick up on spirits…."

"Since when?"

Dean sighed. "All right, fine. You think DeeDee Hannigan picked up some spirits on film? And then what, Sam? They set the barn on fire?"

He shrugged. "Well, I don't know. Maybe."

"Great," Dean drawled, drinking from his coffee mug. "I suppose this means you want to stick around."

"Yeah," Sam retorted, a little too defensively for Dean's taste. "I do."

"What about Jayne and Lynn?" he asked. "You think they're sticking around?"

Sam shrugged again. "I don't know. Probably."

"Probably," Dean nodded, putting on a mock thoughtful air. "And, of course, if they're sticking around, we're going to stick around too."

"What's your problem, Dean?" Sam snapped suddenly. "Are you pissed at me or something?"

"I'm not pissed at you…" Dean grumbled, but Sam cut him off.

"Really? Because you sure are acting like it."

Something inside Dean snapped. "All right, fine! I'm pissed at you, Sam!"

"Why?"

"Why? Because you dragged me out here for no good reason, and now you're making me stay here for no good reason!"

"If there are demons or angry spirits out here, then I'd say that's a pretty good reason for us to stay."

"Demons and angry spirits… come on, Sam!"

"What about the fire, Dean?"

"What about it?"

"You think that was an accident?"

"Fires happen all the time, Sam! Not all of them are caused by demons!"

"No," Sam agreed. "But all the fires in _our_ lives have been caused by demons."

Dean felt mildly guilty as he remembered Jessica. But he quickly pushed that guilt aside. He was too angry with Sam to sympathize with whatever the kid was going through. It was strange, really. The anger had just sort of flared up out of nowhere, and now it was consuming him. He wasn't entirely sure _why_ he was so angry with Sam, but he knew he was. He really, _really_ was.

"You think I don't know what this is really about?" Dean retorted. "You think I don't know this is about Lynn? Damn it, Sam, if you really want to spend some time with the girl, why don't you just come out and say so?"

Sam looked thunderstruck. "This isn't about spending time with Lynn. I'm not you, Dean. I don't turn every hunt into a one night stand."

The words stung. Dean wasn't sure why they stung. It wasn't like they weren't true, in a way. He was… well, he was a bit of a horn dog. And quite frankly, he didn't really see a problem with that.

"Don't make this about me," Dean returned. "We're not picking apart my life right now, we're talking about you."

"I don't pick apart your life!"

"Sure you do, Sam! It's all you've done since we've been on the road! You don't like the food I eat, the women I sleep with, the drinking, the gambling, the credit card scams… you've made it perfectly clear that you disapprove of everything I do!"

"Well, it's not my fault everything you do is… is…"

"What?"

Sam sighed. "I don't want to fight right now."

"Fine," Dean said shortly, getting out of his chair.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"For a walk."

Sam made an incredulous noise. "You? You, Dean Winchester, are going for a walk?"

Dean flicked him off without turning around to look at him. He stormed behind the bar and put his mug in the sink. Then he walked out of the tavern, slamming the door angrily behind him.

He wasn't sure why, but he just couldn't look at his younger brother right now. For some reason, he was furious with Sam. He couldn't explain what he felt, but he was fairly certain he had never felt it before.

* * *

After being out in the fresh air for a little while, Jayne felt less angry with her stepsister. In fact, she wasn't even sure what had prompted her to say those nasty things to Lynn in the first place. As she re-entered the tavern after her long walk, she wondered if maybe she should make up with Lynn.

The tavern was now open for business, but there wasn't a paying customer in the place. As Jayne walked in through the front entrance, she could vaguely hear yelling coming from the back. Beatrice was cleaning the windows and when Jayne entered, she hissed, "You better get out here, Jayne. DeeDee and Danny are at it again, and you don't want to get in the way, trust me."

Jayne frowned. DeeDee and Danny had a tendency to grate on one another's nerves, but Beatrice sounded overly serious about this particular argument. "What do you mean?" she asked. "How bad is the fight?"

"As bad as they usually are," Beatrice replied.

That didn't sound right. The fighting between the Hannigan siblings must have gotten worse since her last visit. Before Jayne could ask Beatrice any more questions concerning DeeDee and Danny, she heard DeeDee shout:

"I am so sick of cleaning up after you! I am so sick of watching Daddy clean up after you! Do you even know what you're doing with your life, Danny? You're fucking up left and right, and you don't even seem to care!"

"Maybe I don't!" Danny bellowed back. "I don't see where it's any of your business, DeeDee! You don't want to clean up after me? Fine! Then don't! No one asked you to, anyway! I certainly didn't!"

"Uh-oh," Beatrice murmured beside her. "Um… I think I left my name tag in my car."

Jayne was about to tell Beatrice that she was wearing her name tag, but the older woman ducked out of the tavern before she had a chance. Too late, Jayne realized she was trying to escape being involved in the argument.

"How can I help cleaning up after you? Don't you realize that everything you do affects this family? Me, Daddy, the business? Or don't you even care?"

"You're so full of shit, DeeDee! Not a damn thing I do affects anyone but me!"

"You're the one who's full of shit, Danny!"

"Why can't you just butt out?"

"Why can't you just leave? Just leave, Danny! Get out of here! Go!"

"Maybe I will! Maybe I will leave, DeeDee! Would that make you happy?"

"Shut up!"

There was loud, frustrated, and feminine screech. Then DeeDee, face as red as her hair, marched out of the back rooms, snatched her purse up from under the bar, and made a beeline for the front door.

Jayne stepped to the side, trying to avoid being run over. "DeeDee?" she asked in concern. "Are you all right? What's going on?"

"Why would you care?" DeeDee flung back bitterly. "You always take Danny's side anyway!"

Jayne blinked, taken back. DeeDee ignored the shock on her face and stormed out of the tavern.

Danny stomped out from the back room and threw open the cooler door. It banged into the shelves beside it with a loud crash, rattling the liquor bottles. Danny snatched a beer from the cooler and straightened up, turning around as he opened the bottle with a loud grunt.

Jayne stared at him. He stared back, obviously surprised to see her there. For a moment, they just gawked awkwardly at one another.

"Hey Gibson," Danny said finally, giving her a nod. "Want a beer?"

She blinked, and then quickly got over her surprise. "Yeah," she replied, walking over to the counter. "I do."

Danny reached back into the cooler and got her a beer of her own. Jayne took a seat at the bar. He opened the bottle for her and plopped the beer right down in front of her face. Jayne grasped the bottle and took a long swig. Danny drank from his beer as well.

"So," she said conversationally. "Fight?"

He nodded. "You have no idea."

* * *

Sam was walking along the exterior of the bar, thinking over the argument he'd just had with Dean. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something had seemed off. Wrong. Dean had been… well, he hadn't acted a whole lot like Dean.

Sam could relate, he supposed. During the fight, he hadn't felt a whole lot like himself either. There was something weird about this place, he decided. Between the nightmare, the fire, the photos DeeDee had taken… and now the arguing. The strange feelings of rage.

As he ambled along the charred remains of Rufus' barn, Sam was startled to see Lynn sitting in the bed of Jayne's pickup truck, looking sulky. He glanced around, wondering if anyone else was about. Seeing no one, he decided to say hi.

It was probably a mistake, he told himself as he approached. There was no way he'd be able to avoid talking about that nightmare. She would bring it up immediately, he was sure. And then she wouldn't let it drop until she got what she wanted from him. She was like a dog with a bone.

He sidled up alongside the truck. "Hey," he said.

Lynn jumped slightly, apparently startled. She looked up at Sam and then replied simply, "Hi."

She returned her gaze to the ground. Sam frowned. This wasn't like Lynn. She was being so… quiet.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

Lynn shrugged and sort of sighed. "I don't know if I really want to talk about it."

Well, that was a first, Sam thought to himself. Lynn always wanted to talk about everything. It was a trait of his own that Dean constantly complained about, and Sam was starting to see why.

Lynn was worse than him, though. She took it to an extreme. It was enough to drive anyone nuts.

"It's just…" she said suddenly, and then trailed off.

Sam prepared himself. Here it comes, he thought.

"It's Jayne."

Why did he feel disappointed? He had been so sure that she would bring up his nightmare, and she hadn't. But… that was a relief, right? He didn't want to talk about that… right?

"What about Jayne?" he asked.

Lynn sighed again. "We had a fight."

Sam's interest was immediately roused. "Really? That seems to be going around."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

He took a seat beside her in the pickup bed. "I had a fight with Dean."

"Really?"

Sam nodded.

"Huh," Lynn murmured. "Weird."

"It was, kind of. I'm not even really sure what provoked it. We were just drinking coffee and talking about Rufus. All I said was that I wondered if you and Jayne had talked to Rufus yet. If you had, then maybe he'd told you what he'd meant to about your brother. I thought it might mean something about my dad. He sort of flew off the handle."

Lynn nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Jayne was packing, and I said we should stick around and figure out what caused that fire. She blew up at me about our brother."

"Wow."

"Yeah. See, we did talk to Rufus today, and he told us Stephen wanted to buy a whole bunch of demon protection stuff from him. He thought maybe Stephen had managed to get himself involved in something demonic. I remembered what DeeDee had said about her photographs, and I suggested we stick around to see if we could figure out exactly what sort of trouble Stephen got himself into. Jayne didn't like that idea."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I mentioned the fire too. When Dean realized I was thinking about staying a little while longer, he got pissed."

Lynn shook her head. "She called me a selfish bitch."

Sam's eyes widened. "Whoa."

She shrugged. "I wasn't very nice either," she admitted. "I told her she was 'a cold, distant, psychological mess.' Nasty, huh?"

He chuckled. "Just a little. But eloquent."

"Well, so long as I'm eloquent."

"Yeah, well," Sam said. "I sort of implied that my brother only cared about sex. And then he accused me of picking apart his lifestyle or something like that."

"Bad. But mine was worse."

The two of them sat in silence a little while. Suddenly, DeeDee flew out of the barn and came running up to the two of them. "I hate him!" she shouted.

"Who?" Lynn asked.

"Danny!"

"You two get in a fight?"

DeeDee sighed heavily and leaned against the truck, crossing her arms. "Big time."

"Well, that's kind of strange," Lynn murmured. "I fought with Jayne, Sam fought with Dean, you fought with Danny…"

DeeDee frowned. "Huh. Talk about coincidence."

"Yeah," Sam frowned too. He was suddenly unsettled. "It was weird too. I felt this really intense sense of rage. It wasn't like anything I've ever felt before."

"Me too!" Lynn and DeeDee exclaimed together.

The three of them stared at one another. "Ok, so this probably isn't just a coincidence, is it?" DeeDee asked, finally breaking the silence.

Lynn and Sam exchanged looks. "No," Sam agreed. "Probably not."

"Library," Lynn announced. "Let's go."

"You took the words right out of my mouth," DeeDee said, fishing her car keys out of her purse. "To the Oldsmobile."

* * *

Jayne and Danny sat in the deserted tavern, gulping down their beers. "So," Jayne said conversationally. "What was that all about?"

"What was what all about?"

She raised an eyebrow at him. "You and DeeDee."

"Wow. You don't miss much, do you?"

"I pride myself on being observant."

Danny smirked. "We were fighting," he said shortly.

Jayne nodded. "You two been doing a lot of that lately?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"How come?"

"Same old, same old," Danny drawled, taking a long sip of his beer. "She thinks I'm irresponsible, reckless, shaming the family name… because, you know, the Hannigans have such a fantastic and flawless reputation to uphold."

Jayne snorted. "Well, Danny, not to pick on you or anything, but… ok, you were always sort of rough. But you were usually smart enough not to get arrested."

He nodded, giving her a rueful grin. "Touché."

She drank from her beer. "So, she was ragging on you about the arrests?"

"Among other things. But, hey, I'm used to it. I mean, she pisses me off, but she's not wrong, is she? I'm a screw up. Always have been. Always will be."

"You're not a screw up."

"Don't lie, Gibson. I'm a screw up. Everyone thinks so. Dad, DeeDee… you…"

Jayne was surprised. "What?" she asked. "You think that's how I see you?"

He shrugged. "Well… yeah. I mean, that is why you broke up with me, right? Because I'm a screw up?"

She stared at him. "You think I broke up with you because you're a screw up?"

"Well, that's why every other girlfriend I ever had broke up with me."

"True," Jayne smirked at him. "But I'm not like every other girlfriend you ever had."

He smirked back. "No. You really aren't."

There was a pause as the two of them drank from their beer bottles. "So, why _did_ you break up with me?" Danny asked.

Her shoulders tensed. She didn't look at him. Jayne took another sip of beer. Then she shrugged. "I don't know, I… well…"

"What did I do?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "You didn't do anything. It wasn't you."

He snorted.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know. It's cliché, it's overused, it's the biggest line in history… but it's still true. It really wasn't you, Danny."

"So, it wasn't me, it was you, huh?"

"Yep."

"Why was it you?"

She shrugged again. The tension was back in her tall frame. "Well… I don't… I just… it…"

"Did it have anything to do with your inability to share your feelings?"

Jayne laughed. She couldn't help it. Danny was giving her a wry smirk. "Yeah," she agreed. "Maybe so."

There was a long silence. Jayne sighed. "I don't know, Danny. I mean, it wasn't practical. I'm a hunter. Doesn't really make for stable long term relationship material."

He rolled his eyes. "Bull. You're full of shit, Gibson."

"Am not!"

"Are too! I'm a hunter!"

Jayne paused, squirming on the barstool. The conversation was making her uncomfortable. "Look, there are two types of hunters in this world," she announced. "There are the part-timers and the full-timers. Part-timers, they have real lives. Hunting's just a side gig. A hobby. Something they do in their spare time. They've got real jobs, real homes, and real families. Hunting's just for weekend trips, a week's worth of vacation, spring break… it's not their life.

"And then there are the full-timers. Hunting _is_ their life. They've got no home, no job, no family… hunting's all they've got. All they do. It consumes them."

Danny stared at her. "Let me guess," he drawled. "I'm a part-timer and you're a full-timer."

She shrugged.

"Thanks for proving my point, Gibson," Danny said. "You're full of shit."

"I'm not full of shit!"

"You are! Don't give me this crap! You have a home…"

"No I don't," Jayne interrupted. "Haven't had one for years."

Danny looked awkward. "Well, you have a family."

"No, no, no, no," she disagreed, shaking her head. "I only got what's left of one."

He stared at her. "Full of shit," he said again. "You know, Gibson, you could be happier if you tried."

"Don't bet on it," she smirked, taking another sip of her beer.

Danny shook his head. "So, what? You dumped me to spare my feelings? Good job, Gibson. Real good job."

Jayne looked away. "Danny, don't be like that."

"Don't be like that?" he repeated. "You're such a guy."

"Does that make you gay?"

"Cut the snark. You know what I meant."

"Do I?"

He paused, shaking his head. "You broke my heart, you know."

She snorted. "No I didn't. No one's ever broken your heart. I mean, you're Danny Hannigan. You break the hearts, not the other way around."

"Well, like you said yourself," Danny replied coldly. "You weren't like the others."

Jayne didn't want to talk about this anymore. She drained what was left of her beer and got up from her stool. "Look, whatever happened? It happened a long time ago. So let's move on."

She turned to leave, but he caught her arm. "You always walk away," he practically snarled. "You've been doing it your whole life. Walking away from people who care about you."

"I don't walk away from everyone," she retorted.

"Yes, you do. Sometimes, when you care about them, you come back. But you always walk at some point."

She jerked her arm away from him. There was something decidedly wicked in his eyes that Jayne didn't like. She'd never seen it there before. For the first time in her life, she felt… worried about Danny's intentions. Danny had never frightened her before – which probably said more about her than it did about Danny. Most people in Stamping Ground feared his temper like they feared bugs and thunderstorms… but never Jayne. Danny didn't scare her.

Until right now, at this very moment. Something was different. Something was wrong.

This wasn't Danny.

He grabbed her arm again. She tried to jerk it back, but he held on fast. "Let me go, Danny," she said in a low, warning voice.

"Or what?"

"You know or what."

Danny snorted. "You're a cold bitch."

She wrenched her arm from his grasp, glaring at him. "You're a screw up," she retorted, knowing even as she said it that she'd hit too close to home.

Danny's fist flew into the side of her face, knocking her sideways into the bar. He rushed at her, and Jayne slugged him in the jaw, forcing him to stumble back a few steps. She kicked him in the gut and he flew into the tables.

He grabbed one of the chairs nearby and tossed it at her. Jayne ducked, but the chair still caught her in the temple. Her knees buckled and her vision went black for one moment. Danny grabbed her and tossed her over the counter. Jayne rolled over the wooden surface, taking their beer bottles with her. Glass shattered all around her as she hit the floor on the other side of the bar.

Danny swung himself over the bar. Jayne reached for the shelf under the cash register, grabbing hold of an old flask that DeeDee had nicknamed the Hannigan family insurance policy. Unscrewing the cap as she hauled herself to her feet, Jayne waited for the perfect opportunity as Danny advanced on her. He was less than two feet away when she flung the Holy Water into his face.

He stopped and blinked. The water dripped down his chin and onto his shirt. A slow, nasty looking smirk formed on his face. "Nice try, Gibson," he sneered. "But no. I'm not possessed."

His fist made crushing contact with her skull. Jayne hit the floor again. Danny advanced on her again, and she blinked up at his hulking figure from her spot on the glass littered ground.

Any way she looked at it, Jayne decided, she was fucked.


	17. House Guests

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thank you to winchesterxgirl, FragrantPrincess, Nelle07, Firefly Orain Xi-Wang, tbelle1234, martine, guardian music angel, and Can't Breathe Without You Here for the reviews!

Has it really been a month since I last updated this story? Does everyone out there hate me? I don't blame you. Sorry everyone. I got really stuck writing the exorcism - it took me forever, and yet it barely takes up any space in the chapter. Hopefully, the next update will come faster.

* * *

Chapter 17: House Guests

Dean walked up to the tavern, feeling a lot less pissed at Sam than when he had stormed out of there. In fact, he wasn't really sure why he'd gotten so angry in the first place. Yeah, Sam had been getting on his nerves lately. He was tired of the snarky comments directed at his lifestyle. He was pissed about being in Kentucky instead of Arizona. And he wasn't going to lie – Sam's sudden obsession with Lynn Juarez? Seriously uncool. Still, Sam had been uncool all his life, and it had never been anything Dean couldn't handle.

Until now. Until he'd been stuck at this hole in the wall tavern in the middle of freaking nowhere with the two wicked stepsisters and their bestest pals.

It was odd, really. Dean remembered his inexplicable rage and his inability to stand his brother's face. How had that happened? Where had that come from? And why didn't he feel that way anymore?

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe something freaky _was_ going down in the Hannigan tavern.

He walked in through the back as quietly as possible. For all he knew Sam might still be in there, and he wasn't exactly sure how to go about making up with his younger brother.

Other than doing what he normally did – ignoring the problem.

He heard a grunt, and then a loud, pained cry. Glass shattered in the next room.

Frowning, Dean made his way closer to the bar. He automatically reached for the gun tucked into the back of his jeans.

He rounded the corner and his eyes widened. What he saw in the other room definitely wasn't what he had expected to see.

* * *

Jayne scooted backwards from the advancing Danny. He wore an ugly expression on his face. "I can't play your games anymore, Jayne," Danny drawled.

"What games?" she asked throatily, still inching away from him. She was nearly past the cooler now.

He snorted. "You know what games," he practically snarled, moving quickly towards her now. "The flirting, the bantering, the occasional one night stand – you won't leave me alone, Jayne. You broke up with me, but you won't leave me alone."

"I haven't seen you in nearly two years," she retorted. "I left you alone."

Danny gave a short, bitter chuckle. "Yeah. That's true. You finally did. Maybe that's not what I wanted after all."

He knelt down before her and reached for her throat. "Maybe I just…"

Crash! Jayne snatched a liquor bottle off the nearby shelf and smashed it into the side of Danny's face. The bottle shattered against his skull. Danny toppled sideways, blood running down his neck.

Jayne sat up, but Danny's fist quickly sent her sprawling back on the floor. She felt blood trickle out of her nose. He leapt on top of her, his hands closing around her neck. Jayne drove her knee hard into his ribcage, and Danny loosened his grip on her, loosing his breath for a moment. She slugged him in the jaw, knocking him off her and onto the floor. Grabbing hold of the counter, she pulled herself to her knees, reaching for another liquor bottle. Danny tackled her from the side just before her fingers closed around the weapon, pinning her to the ground. One hand closed tightly around her throat, and the other propelled itself repeatedly into her face. Jayne gave a strangled cry, trying unsuccessfully to struggle out from underneath him. He punched her over and over again, rendering her more and more powerless. Her eye was swelling, her lip was split, and her head was killing her. Slowly, the world around her began to loose its focus.

A loud shot rang out into the room. One of the liquor bottles above the bar burst into hundreds of tiny pieces. Danny spun around, seeking the source of the bullet, and found Dean standing at the entrance to the back rooms, pointing his pistol at him.

Danny got to his feet, abandoning Jayne on the floor. She raised her head off the ground, squinting at Dean through swollen eyes. Another shot rang out, barely missing Danny's head.

"Dean!" Jayne shouted at him hoarsely, trying to sit up. As dangerous as Danny was at the moment, she didn't want him killed. This wasn't his fault – she was sure of it. "Don't shoot him! He's not…"

Danny threw himself at Dean, knocking the gun from his hand. Dean punched the larger man in the face, sending him flying into the counter. Then he grabbed Danny round the neck and began hitting him mercilessly in the face.

The Hannigan boy smacked Dean in the ear and then brought his knee into his stomach. Dean's grip loosened and Danny shoved him backwards into the shelves. Dean bounced off the shelving, glass shattering around him, and hit the floor.

Danny leapt on top of the eldest Winchester, and pounded him in the face, not unlike Dean's earlier treatment of him. The two rolled around on the floor, struggling against one another.

Then, suddenly, a large glass bottle was brought heavily down on top of Danny's head. The glass shattered and Danny fell limply to the floor. Dean found the broken bottle neck grasped tightly in Jayne's right hand. They made brief eye contact before Jayne toppled from her perch on her knees, landing on her hip beside her ex-boyfriend.

Dean got up on his knees and hunched over her. "Jayne? Jayne!"

"I'm fine," she rasped, her eyes half shut. "Don't shout. I've got a hell of a headache."

Dean snorted. "You're welcome."

She grunted. "Yeah, yeah, thanks or whatever."

Jayne hadn't planned on being rescued. She knew she'd been losing the fight with Danny, but she had a way of making a comeback when it came to a deadly wrestling match. Either way, out of all the people who could have come rushing in to help her, Dean Winchester hadn't exactly been the person she was expecting. Now the atmosphere was strained and awkward.

"Here," Dean said, grabbing her around the waist and hauling her into a sitting position. She leaned heavily against his chest. "You look like hell."

"You look like shit," she retorted.

"Thanks. That's sweet. Really."

Jayne sighed heavily. "What the hell is going on around here?"

"Got me by the short hairs."

Jayne looked over at Danny. Dean followed her gaze. "What do you want me to do about that?" he asked.

She gave him a dirty look. "Don't call him 'that.' It's not his fault."

"It sure looked like his fault."

"He's not himself. That's not Danny."

"He's possessed? Sure went down easy for a possessed man."

"No," she muttered, sounding hesitant. "No, he wasn't possessed."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So what was he then? Danny's evil twin?"

"Shut up," Jayne groused. She knew Dean blamed Danny and only Danny for what he'd walked in on, but she didn't want to hear anything negative about the other hunter. She knew Danny better than almost anyone, and she knew that the real Danny would never hit her. "I don't know what the hell got into him, but that wasn't Danny. Danny Hannigan is a far cry from perfect, but he'd never pull something like this. Not on me."

Dean didn't really know what to say to that. There was a fierce, determined look in Jayne's eye that barely masked her hurt feelings. Danny's attack had done more than nearly kill her. He could tell she was thrown. She had never expected Danny to do this to her. Whether she was right about Danny not being himself remained to be decided, but Dean decided not to push the subject. If she wanted to believe that Danny had an excuse for this, well… he supposed it wouldn't hurt to let her believe it, at least for a little while.

"Great," Dean drawled. "Now what?"

* * *

The little table in the back of the Stamping Ground public library was almost entirely silent except for the occasional shuffling of papers. Sam, Lynn, and DeeDee sat quietly, leaving through old tomes in hopes of uncovering some answers. Lynn and Sam both had their laptops propped open on the tabletop.

After a while, DeeDee asked tentatively, "So, has anyone found anything yet?"

Lynn sighed heavily. "Not so much. I'm not even really sure what I'm looking for."

"Well," DeeDee said. "All I know is that Danny and I have been fighting like this a lot lately. And Danny's been getting into fistfights on a regular basis. I mean, I know he always was one for a brawl, but it's been different lately. It's like he's changed into this totally different, much more violent person."

Sam stared at his laptop monitor. "It sounds like demonic possession," he announced. "Almost. But even if Danny _is_ possessed, it doesn't explain what you saw in your photographs, and it doesn't explain why the rest of us have been feeling more angry and violent than usual."

"Um…" Lynn murmured hesitantly. "In this case, it could be a different sort of demonic possession. There have been cases of demons taking up refuge in homes, basements, office buildings, things like that."

Sam gave her an incredulous look. "I've never come up against anything like that," he returned.

"Maybe you haven't," DeeDee spoke up. She too sounded hesitant. "But Ed and Lorraine Warren have."

Both Lynn and Sam stared at DeeDee like she'd sprouted another head. "Ed and Lorraine Warren?" Sam asked. He did not sound impressed.

DeeDee rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. Maybe not the best names to drop in the case of validity. But just because they aren't hunters in the way that we and the people we know are hunters doesn't mean everything they've uncovered is bull shit. I just found some articles about a haunted house in Connecticut that used to be a funeral home."

She slid her reading material across the table for Lynn and Sam to review. "This family – the Parkers? They were living in what used to be a funeral home, and their two sons had a bedroom in the basement – the old embalming room. The Warrens were called in after all this crazy shit happened that no one could explain, and they claimed that a demon had taken up residence in the house. They also claimed that the old freezer used for the bodies was a door way to Hell or something like that. That part might have been exaggerated."

"You think?" Sam replied.

"Maybe DeeDee's onto something here," Lynn put in. "Like I said, there's been cases of demons possessing buildings and properties instead of people. They take over and start affecting the minds of the people living on those properties. Maybe something like that occurred at the pub."

Sam looked skeptical. "It would explain why nothing like this has ever happened before," Lynn pressed. "Ghosts usually haunt one place and stay there until someone drives them out. Most times, they can't leave any other way, nor do they have control over where they end up. Demons take root in places and people wherever and whenever they feel like it."

It made sense, Sam had to admit, as much as he didn't buy the whole Parker family story. "Ok," he said slowly. "Let's say that's what happening at Rufus' bar. How do we get rid of these things?"

"Exorcism," DeeDee replied. "Just like in the case of a human. Only we're going to have to come after those demons with both barrels. Group exorcism. Everyone reads from the Good Book, not just one person. Everyone's got to get in on the ritual."

"Sounds good," Sam murmured, nodding his head. "Worth a shot, at least."

"Let's do it," Lynn agreed.

"Great," DeeDee grinned, standing up and grabbing her keys. "Come on, guys. To the Oldsmobile."

She hightailed it to the library doors. Sam looked over at Lynn and raised an eyebrow. "Does she always say that?"

Lynn nodded, wearing a small rueful smile. "Yep. She's a big Batman fan. Plus, you know… she actually owns an Oldsmobile."

Sam looked disconcerted. "Oh. Uh, well, that's…"

"Annoying?" Lynn supplied. "Yeah. I know."

* * *

"Now what?" Jayne asked, repeating Dean's question incredulously. She still sounded hoarse and it looked like swallowing was getting painful for her. The Hannigan boy had done a number on her.

Dean didn't always get along with Jayne, but he didn't hate her. She seemed like a decent hunter, and he appreciated that she wanted to take care of her brother and sister. And he hadn't enjoyed watching Danny Hannigan beat the snot out of her. In fact, watching Danny beat up on Jayne had actually pissed him off.

But Jayne looked pissed at _him_, however, and Dean found that ironic. Hadn't he just saved her life? "What do you mean now what?" she practically snapped.

"Well, what do you want me to do with him?" he asked, jerking his thumb at Danny's prostrate body. "What if he wakes up?"

Jayne sighed, and Dean saw immediately that she was tired and hurting. It seemed that the task of figuring out what to do with Danny was a little too much at the moment. "I don't know. Lock him up in the storeroom or something."

"All right, well, first things first," Dean announced. "Let's stop you from bleeding to death."

"There's not that much blood."

"You don't know that. You could be hemorrhaging." Dean gave her a little smirk.

"Whoa-ho-ho," Jayne snorted. "Dean Winchester knows a big word."

"Shut up. Come on."

Dean lifted her up off the ground. She winced as he tried to steady her on her feet. Her knees were shaking, and she had her arm wrapped around her abdomen. Suddenly, she lurched forward, losing her balance. Jayne reached for the bar to steady herself. Dean grabbed her waist.

"Ok," he announced, hefting her off the ground and into his arms. "Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way."

The move surprised her – and not in a positive way. "Put me down," she ordered, giving him the skunk eye.

He snorted. "Make me."

She looked like she was considering it. Dean quickly walked around the corner of the bar and plopped her down in the nearest chair. "There," he smirked. "See? You're down. Happy?"

"Define happy," she groused, swallowing and closing her eyes.

"You all right?"

She glared at him from behind the blonde hair that was falling out of its long braid. "Do I look all right?"

Her face was bruised and one of her eyes was swelling. Her lip was getting bigger, and was bleeding from where it split. More blood was dripping out her nose.

Dean shook his head. "No. Not really."

Jayne smirked. "Well, I guess that answers your question."

Awkward silence descended over the pair of them. Dean shot a nervous glance over his shoulder at the still unconscious Danny Hannigan. "So, uh…" Jayne started to speak, but quickly cut herself off, swallowing. "Um... thanks and all that. You... helped me out, so... Guess I owe you one."

Thanking him had seemed to require a lot of effort. Jayne looked like spitting out the words – as inadequate as they were – was actually physically painful.

Dean almost laughed, but thought better of it. "Yeah. No problem."

They were quiet again. Finally, Dean sighed and asked, "So, is there a first aid kit or something around here?"

Before Jayne could answer, the tavern door was flung open, and Sam, Lynn, and DeeDee raced inside. The three of them stopped short at the sight in front of them; Jayne, bloodied and bruised, lounging in a wooden chair; Dean standing over her with a few minor injuries himself; and Danny lying unconscious in a sea of broken glass behind the bar.

"Oh my God," Lynn exclaimed, rushing to her stepsister's side. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Dean said sarcastically.

Lynn ignored him. "Jayne? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she groused. "It's nothing."

DeeDee was staring at Danny in shock. "Um… what happened to my brother?" she asked faintly.

"He tried to beat the shit out of Jayne," Dean replied. "So I kicked his ass."

Jayne snorted. "Yeah, but I'm the one that knocked him out with the liquor bottle."

Dean waved at her dismissively, as if her contribution to the fight had been superfluous. "Don't bore them with details," he retorted.

"Danny did that to you?" DeeDee asked Jayne, still sounding rather distant and confused.

"No," Jayne shook her head. "Well, I mean, yes, but that wasn't him, DeeDee, something else…"

"Demons," Sam interrupted, speaking for the first time. "It was demons. We figured it out. Dean, should we do something about Danny?"

"Yeah, we better dump him in the storeroom."

The Winchesters walked around the bar and lifted Danny off the floor, carrying him into the back.

"Demons?" Jayne asked.

"DeeDee, you better get the first aid kit," Lynn spoke up.

DeeDee seemed to snap out of her daze. "Right," she agreed. "On it."

She ran towards the back of the bar too. Lynn turned to Jayne, shaking her head. "You look terrible."

Jayne smirked. "Yeah, but I work it, right?"

Lynn shook her head again, not amused. Jayne sighed, dropping the smirk. "I'm fine. Cut it out."

"What, you can worry about me, but I can't worry about you?"

"That's about right."

They were quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry I called you a psychological mess," Lynn murmured.

Jayne sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah," she grunted. "Sorry about the selfish bitch thing."

Lynn smiled at her stepsister. "Don't worry about it."

DeeDee reappeared with first aid kit and took a seat on the table beside Jayne. She and Lynn immediately began trying to patch her up.

Sam and Dean came back out into the tavern too, and joined the three women around the table. "So, demons, huh?" Dean asked, propping his foot up on the table and folding his arms around his chest. "What about them?"

"We think there are demons haunting this property," Lynn replied, trying to clean the cut on Jayne's lip. "The three of us got to talking, and all of us admitted feeling different than usual. Angrier."

"And I mentioned the fights Danny and I have been having," DeeDee spoke up. "And the weird, abnormally violent way he's been acting lately."

"Then there was the fire," Lynn went on. "So we went to the library and started reading up on demonic possessions."

"But not the demons that possess humans," Sam put in. "Demons that possess buildings and properties. It seemed to fit the bill."

"And now that Danny seems to have completely lost it," DeeDee finished. "I'd say we were on the right track. We better do something about all this, and we better do it today."

"Wait, so that shit you found on your film," Jayne cut in. "The stuff you think followed Stephen here… you think that's what's causing all this?"

DeeDee nodded. "That's right."

Jayne fell into an almost petulant silence. Lynn could tell her stepsister didn't like hearing that. Truth be told, neither did she. If this was the evil that was after their brother, then there was no telling what had happened to Stephen since he'd been to see Rufus, or where he was now.

"Great," Dean said, interrupting Lynn's train of thought. "So now what? How do we get rid of these things?"

"Exorcism," Sam answered his brother's question. "Group exorcism. All of us are going to have to do this together."

"Which reminds me," DeeDee announced, hopping down off the table. "I better make copies of the exorcism rite so we all have something to read off."

She disappeared into the back. "We also have to bless the house," Lynn added, finishing her sister's bandaging. "Sam and I will go around and start flinging Holy water everywhere."

"What are we supposed to do?" Jayne asked, referring to both herself and Dean.

"You're not doing a damn thing," Lynn retorted. "Not until we're ready to exorcise this thing. I want you to go to our room and try to heal up."

Jayne snorted. "No!"

"Yes!"

"I'm fine!"

"Bull!"

"What about me?" Dean asked.

"You can help with the Holy water," Lynn replied. "Actually, I better go tell Rufus and Beatrice what's up before I do anything else. Then I'll help you guys out."

"Still have nothing to do," Jayne groused.

"And it's going to stay that way," Lynn replied firmly.

Jayne looked ready to protest, but Dean cut her off. "All right," he said. "Sounds good. I'll take Rambo over here upstairs, and then I'll help Sam."

"Excuse me?" Jayne asked in a low, dangerous voice.

Dean ignored her and swept her off the chair. Jayne gave him a furious look. Behind her, Dean could see Lynn trying not to laugh.

"Stop picking me up," she snapped, albeit rather hoarsely.

"Stop falling every time you stand up!"

"That was one time! It means nothing!"

Dean sighed, exasperated. "All right, fine. I'll make you a deal. If I put you down and you can walk one step without falling over, then I will let you go upstairs by yourself."

"Fine," Jayne said.

"But if you can't, I'm carrying you."

"Fine. Deal. Bring it on."

Dean set her down on her two feet. Jayne was determined to pull this off. She knew she wasn't in tiptop shape at the moment, but she wasn't an invalid either. Having Dean Winchester cart her around was embarrassing – and unnecessary.

She took a step forward, but those damn traitorous legs of her betrayed her. They gave out from under her as soon as she put her full weight on them. Dean caught her around the waist and Lynn let out a loud, frightened gasp.

"Jaynie?"

The term of endearment made it clear to Jayne that Lynn was really freaked out by her injuries. She glanced over at her stepsister, searching her brain for something reassuring to say. "I'm all right, Lynn," was all she came up with.

Then, suddenly, she was off the ground and back in Dean's arms. She glowered at him, but he only smirked back.

"I win," he announced.

She continued to glower. "I will never forgive you for this."

He shrugged, still smirking. "I can live with that."

* * *

It was only a few hours later when Lynn found herself supporting her stepsister back down the stairs. Jayne kept grumbling about how she was fine and this was ridiculous, but Lynn didn't pay her complaints any mind. The tavern had been fully sprinkled with Holy water, DeeDee had successfully printed several copies of the exorcism rite, and everyone was gathered in the tavern below, waiting for the exorcism to begin.

Lynn forced her stepsister to sit down at one of the tables and grabbed a couple of the exorcism copies for the two of them. Danny was still locked up in that storeroom, but DeeDee and Rufus were present, as well as the Winchesters and Beatrice.

Jayne had her feet propped up on the table in front of her and her arms crossed in front of her chest. She looked annoyed. Lynn rolled her eyes.

She wondered what had provoked Danny's attack on her stepsister – other than the demonic presence in the tavern. Now that the idea had been planted into her head, Lynn was sure that Hannigan's Pub had been possessed by at least one demon. When they had gone around the building with the Holy Water, Lynn had picked up on the subtle sulfur scent permeating from the walls. There were demons here, no doubt about that.

But Lynn had done plenty of reading up on these sorts of demons while they were in the library, and she knew that these demons could make people do things – but they had to act on their hidden angers and resentments to do it. So exactly what sort of hidden anger and resentment did Danny harbor towards Jayne?

The more Lynn thought about it, the more obvious it became. It had something to do with their mysterious breakup. Jayne had never really talked about it, and Lynn had never really asked her about it. Her stepsister didn't respond well to questioning. She was the sort who volunteered information on her own terms, and not before. Still, Lynn had sometimes (all right, a lot of times) been known to pester her stepsister for details – and she was starting to think that it was long past time to pester Jayne about Danny.

Before she could start in on Jayne, however, Rufus had cleared his throat and taken center stage in the tavern. Beside him was Sam, holding his Bible and looking out at the room almost nervously. It was sort of cute, to see him looking nervous. Not that anyone else in the room looked at ease. Even Rufus, who had always rolled with the punches, was looking grave. But Sam's anxiety was cute for one reason: he looked more nervous about being the center of attention than he did about performing the exorcism.

Lynn thought back to the many conversations she'd had with Sam – about hunting, about his girlfriend, his father, and even his dreams. She recalled one conversation early on in their acquaintance in which Sam had revealed that he had been a Stanford graduate who'd majored in pre-law. Before the fire in his apartment, he had planned on attending law school at that same university – to become a lawyer, she had supposed. What else did people go to law school for? To see him now, Lynn couldn't help but frown at the image of him standing in a courtroom, addressing a jury. It didn't fit. Not even a little.

"All right, everyone," Rufus said in his low rumbling voice. "When Sam here starts reciting the exorcism, just join on in. And try not to butcher the Latin."

Lynn bit her lip nervously. Latin had never been her best subject. Math, biology, chemistry… that she was good at it. Latin had always been Stephen's thing. He was the best at it out of the whole family. Jayne ran a close second.

Sam took a deep breath, staring at the photocopy in his hands. Lynn suddenly felt ridiculous. Why did this feel less like an exorcism and more like class is in session?

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,_" Sam began."_Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu + Christi, eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia…_"

The rest of the congregation joined in, reciting the exorcism alongside Sam. The pub was suddenly filled with their loud droning voices. At the beginning of the recital, the pub was quiet, except for the echo of the exorcism bouncing off the walls. Then the shaking began.

The walls, the tables, even the chairs they were sitting on. Lynn didn't scare easy – what hunter did? – but this was starting to freak her out.

The shaking got worse and worse. "Keep reading!" Rufus ordered from his spot by the back door.

Sam raised his voice. The other people in the room did the same. The shaking got worse. A loud groaning started to fill the room.

"That can't be good," Jayne muttered beside her.

Lynn raised her voice, still reciting the exorcism. Sam did the same. Everyone attempted to keep slogging through the Latin text.

Another voice – several voices, in fact – began to speak in Latin as well, only in hissing, serpent like tones. Lynn glanced around nervously, still reciting the words on the page in front of her.

"_Ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis + . Non ultra audeas, serpens callidissime, deciptere humanum genus…_"

Suddenly, a bottle of Southern Comfort flew off the shelf behind the bar and shattered against the wall on the opposite end of the tavern.

The demons knew what they were up to. And they were not happy about it.

A powerful wind whipped through the room, blowing papers out of their hands. Sam clung tightly to his, still shouting the words to the rite.

"…_Imperat tibi excelsa Dei Genitrix Virgo Maria + , quÃ¦ superbissimum caput tuum a primo instanti immaculatÃ¦ suÃ¦ conceptionis in sua humilitate contrivit..._"

Sam's recitation of the exorcism rite was cut short when he was suddenly hefted off the ground and sent flying into the wall behind him. He hit the wall and slumped to the floor, the air knocked out of his lungs.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice echoed through the room. He ran to his brother's side.

Lynn bit her lip, trying to take over for Sam. She could hear her voice shaking as she started to read louder, hoping her pronunciation was correct. The building continued to shake worse. Suddenly, one of the chairs lifted itself off the ground and flew across the room. It bounced off the wall, narrowly missing Rufus's head.

Beside her, Jayne got to her feet and shouted out the words that remained in the rite. "_Imperat tibi fides sanctorum Apostolorum Petri et Pauli, et ceterorum Apostolorum + . Imperat tibi Martyrum sanguis, ac pia Sanctorum et Sanctarum omnium intercessio_…"

Lynn was absolutely ecstatic that her older sister was so good at this. Her stepsister's voice filled the room. The other people around the tavern added their voices to hers, their recitations gaining volume and confidence.

Another chair threw itself at Jayne's head. Lynn grabbed her stepsister by the arm and pulled her sideways. Narrowly escaping a serious head injury barely fazed her stepsister, who continued reading as though nothing had happened.

The shaking began to slow. The chairs stopped moving. The wind died down. The voices that belonged to no one dissipated.

Suddenly, a loud, horrible groaning filled the room. Black smoke began seeping out of the walls, rising up, up, up towards the ceiling in thick, billowing columns, finally gathering into one massive, turbulent cloud that flickered with tiny flashes of blue lightening.

The very building itself seemed to scream. Then the smoke vanished in one large flash of hellfire.

Everyone in the room stood stock still, breathless and staring at one another in shock. Papers fluttered out of hands and landed on the floor. Lynn raised an eyebrow at her stepsister.

"Impressive," she murmured quietly. She meant it too. Jayne never failed to impress her, whether they were arguing or not.

Jayne shrugged, as though the part she'd played in the exorcism had been inconsequential. The sad part was that Lynn knew Jayne honestly saw nothing impressive in what she'd done. "That's how I roll," she smirked.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "You're so lame."

From across the room, Rufus took in the broken glass, the furniture that had been strewn about haphazardly, and the mildly startled hunters standing around his tavern. He gave them all a short lived but good natured grin. "Well," he announced. "That's something you don't see every day."

* * *

The pub seemed so much quieter now after the exorcism. Rufus had closed for the night, sensing that all his guests and employees were far too tired to work, having used up their energy on expelling those demons from his bar. Lynn was off somewhere with DeeDee, looking at old photo albums. Jayne didn't have much use for photo albums.

Lynn had told her to go straight to bed, but Jayne hadn't heeded her advice. Instead, she was lounging on her bed, watching the tiny old TV sitting on the bureau. It was just some crappy old monster movie, but that's what she needed right now. Something that made the evil out there seem fake.

Although she was glad they stayed to help Rufus out, she was also disappointed. Lynn had been so sure those demons would give them a clue as to why Stephen was running. But now that the exorcism was over, they knew exactly as much as they had known before. Jayne was starting to get antsy. She wished they had left right after the ritual was finished – she didn't care that she was, according to her stepsister, badly injured and in need of rest.

Suddenly, a red head ducked around the corner of her door, poking his head into her room. Danny Hannigan automatically winced. "Holy shit, look at your face!"

Jayne looked up at Danny, and immediately snorted. "Look at yours."

Black eye. Fat lip. Bruises blooming all over his face. Dean Winchester had done a number on the boy. Jayne mentally noted to herself that she should thank Lynn for befriending the Winchesters. Dean might be unbelievably annoying, but he was also hell in a fight… and therefore, an excellent person to have in her corner.

Danny chuckled ruefully, reaching up to rub his closely-shaved scalp. "Think that's bad? You ought to see the back of my head."

Jayne smirked. "Sorry."

"Don't be. _I'm_ sorry. I deserved a bottle to the head."

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it? Gibson, you look like you went ten rounds with an eighteen-wheeler. _I_ did that."

"Nah. Not you exactly. Just some demon."

Danny fell quiet for a moment, carefully studying the carpet. Then he glanced up from the floor, his pale blue eyes regretful. "No. Not just some demon. Maybe whatever was lurking around my father's property coaxed me into it, but… but _I_ did that. I wasn't possessed. I acted alone."

"Not entirely. It wasn't your fault, man."

"Gibson, those demons preyed on our hidden angers and resentments. Like it or not, the demons only encouraged me to hit you. Deep down, I wanted to do what I did."

Someone else might have been upset by that, but Danny's words didn't hurt Jayne in the least. Jayne knew they were true, and had known since Lynn, Sam, and DeeDee rushed through the tavern door and explained all about what was haunting Hannigan's Pub. Jayne knew Danny resented her. She also knew it was her own fault. She couldn't blame him. She didn't blame him.

"It's been years," she murmured. Danny hadn't hurt her with his admission of guilt, but that didn't make their relationship any less sad. "Guess time doesn't always help, huh?"

What she meant was where did we go wrong? But Jayne didn't say that, and she never intended to.

"Don't worry about it," she said again. "It's cool."

"No, Gibson. It ain't."

Long silence followed his statement. "Well, then I'll pretend it is," Jayne finally replied.

Danny rubbed his head again. "You still hung up on us as much as I am?"

Jayne stared at him for a moment, and then decided to answer him honestly. She owed him that. "Yes."

"But it's easier on you." It wasn't a question. He believed it was easier on her, she could tell. He was probably right. "You have more important problems on your mind. They distract you."

Jayne delivered another truthful reply. "It's easy to forget. It's hard to let go."

He laughed. "Ain't that the truth."

Long silence.

"Well, I don't have more important problems on my mind," Danny finally said. "So, I'm thinking I'm going to go find some."

She raised her eyebrow.

"I'm hitting the road," he announced. "Getting the hell out of Stamping Ground. Going on the hunt, where I belong."

Jayne stared at him, and then she nodded slowly. "I think that'd be good for you."

Danny's face twitched into a short-lived but incredibly coquettish grin. "Glad you think so."

Another long silence.

"Can I give you some advice?" Danny asked.

Jayne shrugged.

He chuckled. "Well, I'm saying it." Immediately, Danny sobered. "You know, Stephen ain't the man he used to be."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she snapped.

Any mention of Stephen, and she instantly ran hot. But Danny wasn't impressed by her angry tone. "I mean, he's changed. Dad thinks he's running scared. And he is, don't get me wrong. But that ain't all. There's something else. He's changed. He's not the same. And maybe… maybe when you find him, you'll wish you hadn't."

Jayne wanted to bite his head off for those words, but it was hard to argue with earnest Danny. Earnest Danny was usually right – and that was a truly unhappy thought.

"Still going to find him," she replied.

"I know."

They stared at one another. "Be careful," he said finally. Softly. Earnestly.

She nodded. "You too. Good luck, Danny."

"See you around, Gibson."

* * *

Jayne tossed the heavy duffel into the bed of her pickup. Her stepsister had suggested she take it easy for a few days but, as usual, Jayne hadn't taken her advice. Honestly, she felt fine. She didn't see why she should take a few days off and rest. There was no legitimate reason she couldn't travel – and besides. They had a little brother to find.

She glanced over her shoulder at the pub. Rufus was standing on the front porch, DeeDee at his side, watching her carefully. He looked as though he was thinking very hard, and Jayne began to wonder if he had something else he wanted to tell her.

Danny, on the other hand, was nowhere in sight, and she hadn't expected him to be. Not after their exchange last night. That had been enough of a good-bye. There was no reason for him to say another one.

Still, she searched the property for him. Her eyes roved over the pub, the house, the charred remains of the barn, and his parking space by the garage. Danny's giant black Harley was nowhere to be seen. Jayne wasn't surprised.

Danny was already gone.

She tried to ignore the tightening of her chest. Fortunately, Lynn came prancing over to her side, throwing her bag almost cheerfully into the back of the truck and promising distraction. Jayne took it.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" she asked.

Lynn looked taken aback. ""Nothing's wrong with me."

"Really? You sure? Cause you're acting all chipper. What, did you up your meds or something?"

Her stepsister rolled her eyes and shoved Jayne's shoulder. "Shut up."

Jayne opened the driver's side door, but Lynn stopped her from climbing inside. "Hey," she said softly. "I'm sorry about our fight."

They had already had this discussion. They had already said their apologies. So what Jayne couldn't figure out was why her stepsister was bringing it up again? She gave her the eye. Lynn was breaking their unspoken rule: We argued. Talk about it once. Never bring it up again.

"Yeah, me too," Jayne replied, still giving her a funny look. "You know, we already apologized. You don't have to say it twice."

"Actually, I do," Lynn returned. "We both said horrible things to one another, and it was inexcusable. Jayne, you're all I got. We have to stick together."

"Seriously, kid, what's up with you? It wasn't our fault. Some demon messed with our heads."

Lynn sighed, and Jayne knew exactly what was coming next. She was about to have the conversation she'd had with Danny all over again.

Awesome.

"Maybe we only said those things because of those demons," Lynn said. "But it goes deeper than that. The demons made us say what we said, yes. But that doesn't mean we didn't mean it."

Jayne sighed heavily. "Crap. Are we going to have to have a talk?"

Lynn smirked. "Yep. Look, Jayne, I've been thinking, and maybe you're right. Maybe I have been monopolizing our hunts. Maybe I have been a tad bit selfish. I need to start considering your opinion instead of just assuming you want to do whatever I want to do."

Jayne shrugged. "Ok."

"I mean it. From now on, I will defer to you on all things. Your opinion will always be asked for. Decisions will be made by both of us. I am turning over a new leaf."

"Oh my god," Jayne rolled her eyes. "Can we stop this now?"

Lynn shook her head. "Nuh- uh. Don't you have something you'd like to say to me?"

"How about shut the hell up, Lynn?"

"Jayne…"

"I thought we were making decisions together from now on. This feels like a decision made just by you."

"Jayne, I swear, if you don't…"

"All right, all right." Jayne took a deep breath and let out a huge sigh. Lynn rolled her eyes at her stepsister's theatrics. "I… I… I will agree to… to… be more open and sharing. But only with you."

"Good enough for me."

"So, you two about ready to hit the road?"

Both women jumped at the unexpected sound of Rufus's voice behind them. "Damn it, Rufus, don't you know better than to sneak up on the armed?" Jayne asked.

A small smile appeared on the older hunter's face. "Apparently not. And after all those years of experience too."

Jayne and he exchanged a smirk. "Thanks for helping us with Stephen," Lynn spoke up, smiling warm for the hunter.

"Thanks for helping me take out the trash," Rufus replied. His smile faded, and he cleared his throat almost nervously. "But about your brother, girls… there's something I want to tell you."

Jayne wasn't even surprised. She had expected this. From the moment she'd glanced over at the pub and seen the look on Rufus's face, she'd known this was coming.

"I'll be honest. Everything I said about your brother? All true. That's why I asked you to stop looking for him. It's also why I lied and told you he was headed for Georgetown."

Both Lynn and Jayne were surprised at the admission. It took every ounce of Jayne's self-control to not haul off and slug the man she'd come to consider a second father. "You what?" she asked in a low, dangerous voice.

"I lied," he repeated himself. "And I'm sorry. But I'm trying to keep you girls safe. It's what your father would have wanted me to do."

"What about Stephen?" Jayne challenged him. "You don't think Russ would have wanted you to keep him safe too?"

There was something in Rufus's eyes that Jayne didn't care for. He didn't respond properly to the challenge. It was as if… it was almost as if he thought Russ would have wanted the exact opposite of that. But that was ridiculous. No one could think that. Russell Juarez loved all his children… and Jayne had spent her entire life being told to watch out for her younger siblings.

Russ would have wanted her to keep Stephen safe. And what's more, her mother would have wanted it too.

"I'm sure he would have," Rufus replied almost carefully. Jayne detected the odd note in his voice, as though he were mapping out exactly what to say to her and what to omit. "But not at the cost of his daughters."

Jayne lifted her chin angrily, taking a step closer to Rufus. The challenge in her eyes was clear. "Which way did he go, Rufus?"

"Opposite direction," Rufus replied. "But here's the thing, Jaynie. I'm starting to think that even if you head off in that general direction, you won't find him. Stephen doesn't want to be found. He's covering his tracks. So, yeah. He went the opposite way when he pulled out of here. But he didn't head for the Interstate. And for all I know, he purposely turned around once he was far enough away from my pub and headed in another direction. The boy don't want to be found. And he's doing a real good job at hiding. Jaynie, I don't want to hurt you, but I can't see how you're going to track him from here."

It was hard to hear those words come out of Rufus's mouth, and Jayne knew deep down that it was only hard because the words were true. There really was no conceivable way to track Stephen from Stamping Ground. But she had to do something, or she would lose her mind.

"I'm sorry, girls," Rufus said softly. He took both of them by the shoulder and looked hard into their faces. "I am."

They nodded. "Be careful out there," he said. "And drop by every now and then. Let's shoot for biannually at the least, huh?"

"You got it Rufus," Lynn half-whispered, mustering up a sad little smile.

He smiled back and turned to Jayne. she gave him a short, insincere grin. He sighed. "Jaynie?"

"We'll miss you," she said.

That was enough. "Good," Rufus replied.

He gave Jayne's shoulder an extra squeeze, saluted the two young women in front of his pub, and then headed back for the front porch. DeeDee waved from where she stood by the tavern entrance, and Lynn and Jayne waved back.

Sighing, Lynn turned to Jayne and crinkled her nose. "Now what?"

Jayne shrugged.

* * *

Dean watched the exchange between the Hannigans and the stepsisters out of the corner of his eye, trying to appear very busy arranging his trunk. He didn't see Danny anywhere, and he was glad of it. Try as he might, he just couldn't like the man.

Sam was ambling up slowly to the Impala, his bag held loosely in his hand, frowning down at his cell phone. Probably chatting with his college buddies again. Dean rolled his eyes. "What's the matter, Sammy?" he asked as his brother got closer. "You missing out on the most super cool keg party ever?"

Sam looked up from his phone, still frowning. Dean felt slightly abashed at the realization that his younger brother appeared to be really upset. "Sammy?" he asked again.

"I just got an email from my friend, Rebecca Warren," he announced.

"Is she hot?"

Sam ignored the sidebar. "I went to school with both her and her brother Zack. She says Zack's been charged with murder. He's been arrested for killing his girlfriend. She says he didn't do it, but it sounds like the cops have a pretty good case."

"Dude," Dean said, scrunching up his face in incredulity. "What kind of people are you hanging out with?"

"No, man, I know Zack. He's no killer."

"Well, maybe you don't know Zack as well as he knows you."

"They live in St. Louis. We're going."

Dean snorted, giving his brother another incredulous look. "I'm sorry about your buddy, ok? But this does not sound like our kind of problem."

"It is our problem," Sam insisted, getting testy. "They're my friends."

Dean stared at him, his mouth slightly open, as though he couldn't believe his brother was suggesting this. Sam stared back evenly, betraying no intention to give in. Finally, Dean sighed and looked out at the road, his lips pursed in annoyance.

"We're never going to Bixby, are we?"

"Hey, you guys," Lynn's voice sounded from behind Sam. Both brothers turned at the sound in surprise, not having known she was so close by. Not only was Lynn behind Sam, but her stepsister was with her. "Jayne and I are about ready to hit the road. We wanted to say good-bye."

Jayne cleared her throat. Lynn rolled her eyes. "Fine. _I_ wanted to say good-bye."

"Ok," Dean replied. "Bye, then."

There was a short silence. "Thanks," Lynn said. "You guys are nice to have around in a tight spot."

"That's what I'm told," Dean returned, giving her a cocky smirk.

Jayne rolled her eyes.

Sam mustered up a smile that Dean saw through immediately. He was still thinking about his pal. "No problem," he said quietly. "So, are you guys going after your brother now?"

Lynn shrugged. "Well… we want to, but… we're not really sure where to start."

"So, you're not heading out in any specific direction?"

Lynn shrugged again.

Dean knew what was coming. He cursed inwardly. Damn it, Sam, he thought. Are you really going to ask her what I think you're going to ask her?

There seemed to be an internal struggle going on inside of Sam's head. Dean wondered if maybe the subject of Zack wouldn't come up. Maybe Sam wouldn't ask Lynn the question Dean thought he was going to.

"What about you guys?" Lynn asked.

Sam looked hesitant for about a second, and then determination replaced the indecision in his eyes. Dean looked away from the stepsisters and rolled his eyes. He knew what was coming next.

"A friend of mine was just charged with a murder he didn't commit," Sam said. "Someone killed his girlfriend, and the cops think it was him."

Lynn immediately looked sympathetic. Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes yet again. The Juarez girl's empathy bordered on overkill. "That's horrible. I'm so sorry, Sam."

"Don't be sorry yet," Sam replied. "Dean and I are headed for St. Louis. We're going to prove his innocence."

"You think it was something supernatural that killed his girlfriend?" Lynn asked curiously.

Sam shrugged. "We don't know yet. But it's a possibility. Either way, I've got to help him." Then Sam changed tones and asked the question Dean had been dreading. "Do you guys want to come? We could probably use the help."

Damn it, Dean thought to himself. Just great, really. He was already being dragged off to St. Louis to help out some old college buddy of Sam's, even though he was _sure_ whatever Zack's problem was, it was definitely not a Winchester problem. As if that weren't bad enough, now he had to deal with Lynn and Jayne _again._ Really, could someone just shoot him now? Or send him to Bixby?

Lynn's eyes brightened for a moment, and Dean cursed in his head. Then, strangely, the light in her eyes faded, and she shrugged. She glanced at her stepsister. "Well, I don't know," she said quietly. "That's really up to Jayne."

Up to Jayne? Since when? Dean began to feel hopeful. Surely Jayne would say no.

Jayne looked surprised that she was being called out. She frowned at Lynn. Then she frowned at the Winchesters. Soon, however, the frown faded, and Dean saw by the look on her face she was thinking very intensely about her decision. Dean hoped she would say no. She _had_ to say no.

She glanced at Lynn again, whose eyes betrayed no inclination of her own feelings. Lynn merely looked expectantly at her stepsister, clearly leaving the choice up to her.

Finally, Jayne shrugged. "Sure," she said, although her voice sounded as though she'd regret this decision. "Why not?"

Lynn immediately brightened again. Sam wore a small smile of his own. "Great," he murmured. "Just follow us."

Jayne gave a curt nod and turned her back on the two brothers, headed for her pickup truck. Lynn looked excited about this new case – if it could even be called that – and waved good-bye to the Winchesters before racing after her stepsister.

Dean sighed. "Awesome," he muttered. "It's a road trip."

* * *

Jayne wasn't sure why she'd agreed to check out this case in St. Louis with the Winchesters, other than knowing her little sis really wanted to. Although Lynn had said nothing one way or another, Jayne knew all too well that another hunt alongside Sam Winchester would make her stepsister all too happy. Despite this, Lynn had stuck to their new agreement. She had asked Jayne first. She had left the entire decision up to Jayne.

That sort of act seemed like it deserved a reward.

So she'd said yes. And now she was following Dean Winchester's Impala down the Interstate, headed for St. Louis.

They'd been on the road for quite some time now, and Lynn was sound asleep in the passenger seat. Jayne was grateful for that. Her mind was too full for conversation. Of all the things she could be thinking about, her thoughts were preoccupied with Danny Hannigan.

She was proud of him, in a way. Proud that he had finally walked away from the pathetic half-existence he'd led at Hannigan's Pub. Danny had never been much of a hunter – not that he didn't have the talent, he just didn't have the initiative. He'd spent his days mooching off his father, occasionally working the bar, and stirring up trouble in Stamping Ground. Now he had left that behind, and he was headed off to who knew where, determined to start living a hunter's life.

Anything could happen to him out there. He always drove that damn bike so recklessly; it would hardly be surprising if he got into a crash. In fact, Danny did everything recklessly. There was a good chance he'd rush into his first hunt half-cocked, looking to kick some demon ass, and get himself killed. And there would be no one around to save his stupid sorry ass.

Despite everything, Jayne felt sudden sadness gnawing at her insides. Her relationship with Danny had never been ideal. She had never been in love with him, she had never hoped to marry him, she had never really contemplated what it would have been like to get really serious with him. But she had cared about him. She'd grown up with him – of course she cared about him. And now, he was out hunting alone, and who knew if he really had what it took to make it out there.

She glanced over at Lynn. Her stepsister was still asleep. That was all the reassurance she needed to let loose one tiny, silent tear that she'd been holding in since they'd left the pub.

* * *


	18. Skin

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

Big thanks to all my reviewers: winchesterxgirl, angeleyenc, tbelle1234, rocky36, WOW!!!!, newbird38, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, WinchesterGirl11, and GoodnightxGoodbye!

AN: Holy Crap, do I suck. Big time sucking, right here. I'm sorry, everyone! There was an issue… namely, I left my Supernatural DVD with Skin on it at my parents' house… which is three hours away from my apartment… and then my computer went to the tech place for three weeks, and then there was the writer's block, and the time consuming college stuff… so, I suck. I know, excuses, excuses. Seriously, it's been like four months. There is no excuse. I'm trying harder not to suck, I swear. Thanks for your patience.

* * *

Chapter 18: Skin

Lynn was annoyed.

Her annoyance stemmed from several sources. For one, the crappy motel they were staying at had very poor television reception. Ever hear of cable, folks? Seriously, Bud's No-Tell Motel needed to step into the twenty-first century.

But the poor television reception was the least of her irritations. Another source of her aggravation was the fact that she was even staying at Bud's No-Tell Motel to begin with. Count on Sam's little college buddies to live in St. Louis, The Gateway to the West… aka, the biggest fucking tourist trap in the whole damn Midwest. Reservations needed to be made in advance around here. Now, Lynn wasn't exactly finicky… she was used to slumming it… but this place was a shithole. One look at the stained maroon carpet, the faded bedspreads, and the chipped white walls was enough to convince her of that. And while her and Jayne usually stayed at motels that fell into the category of cheap and crappy, they at the very least tried to pick motels one level above shithole.

And yet, her irritation ran still deeper. She wanted to be grateful to Jayne for agreeing to come out here, to help Sam, but… well, the woman was annoying. If she had to hear "Piece of my Heart" one more time she was going to burn Bud's No-Tell Motel to the ground… with Jayne still inside of it.

She wondered if Bud's "No Tell" policy extended to arson.

But her crappy hotel lodgings and poor television reception and aggravating older sister was only the tip of the 'piss off Lynn' iceberg. The real reason she was pissed… and yes, Lynn was finally going to admit it to herself… was that Sam and Dean were talking to Rebecca Warren about her imprisoned older brother right now, at this very moment, and her and Jayne hadn't been invited to come along.

It didn't help that Rebecca Warren was gorgeous. Lynn had been researching the Zack Warren case online, and there had been family photos of him and his sister. Rebecca was slender and tall… well, at least taller than Lynn. Jayne was probably still taller than the blonde. Yes, Rebecca was blonde. Very blonde. And very pretty.

Lynn wasn't sure she could compete with a life-size Barbie doll.

Yes, she was trying to compete with Sam's old college buddy. Lynn rolled her eyes at herself, turned off the television, and flopped facedown on the mattress. She was pathetic.

Was it her fault really? The boy was hot. He was tall and cute and funny and… and genuinely nice. Not to mention he was a hunter. That combination wasn't exactly common. Sam was a rare species. And Lynn was tired of the relationships that went nowhere. She was tired of dating normal nice guys who were threatened by the fact that she carried a Glock 23 in the waistband of her jeans. She was tired of dating hunters that belonged in a "Macho Man" music video. She wanted the rare species.

And it didn't help that they got along. They got along excellently. They talked. She knew things about him that he hadn't even dared tell his brother. They were developing an intimacy. And she wanted Rebecca Warren to stay away from him.

She sighed loudly. After several seconds of silence, she sighed loudly again. Then, further aggravated by the persisting silence of the motel room, she rolled over and glowered at her stepsister.

Jayne had her headphones on. She was probably still listening to that same damn Janis Joplin song. It was probably on repeat. Her face was stuck inside a book. Probably some famous novel of classic literature. Jayne read things like that. She was a freak.

Lynn sighed a third time and still got no response. Her stepsister didn't even glance in her direction. "Jayne!" she shouted.

Jayne jumped, dropped the book, and turned around to look at Lynn, removing her headphones. "What?" she exclaimed, obviously irritated.

"I'm bored," Lynn announced.

Her stepsister sighed harshly, reaching again for her book. "I don't know what you want me to do about it."

"Well, aren't you annoyed?" she asked. "They went off to talk to that Rebecca person without us. Like we're… subordinates or something." Jayne shrugged, obviously not that concerned. "Well, doesn't it bother you?" Lynn persisted. "Doesn't it tick off every feminist bone in your body? I mean, they excluded us. Like, we're the big macho guys and you puny females are in our way."

Normally, commenting on a man's sexist behavior was enough to get Jayne good and riled - and for at least two hours. But not today. It seemed the whole world was against Lynn today.

Jayne shrugged again, flipping through the pages of her book, trying to find the page she'd been reading before Lynn's interruption. "I think maybe you're overreacting."

"I am not!" Lynn retorted. She flinched at the childish tone of her voice. "I mean, I just… well, I don't see why we couldn't have come along."

Jayne shrugged for the third freaking time. Really, why did she keep doing that? Who shrugged that often? "Rebecca knows Sam. Sam can explain Dean. He's supposed to be on a road trip with his big brother, remember? How exactly do we fit into that picture? We kind of don't."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I doubt Sam's just going to knock on Rebecca's door and announce that we all hunt the supernatural and we're going to prove Zack's innocence by proving some sort of demon or ghost killed his girlfriend. She'd slam the door right in his face. So what is he supposed to say when she wonders who we are? We're a couple of hookers he and Dean picked up at a truck stop?"

Lynn snorted and glared at the bedspread. "Dean would like that."

"It just wasn't practical. Aren't you supposed to be researching?"

"I already did."

"Well, what did you find out?"

"That Rebecca Warren is extremely hot," Lynn grumbled. "And I don't like her."

Jayne sighed. "You're pathetic."

"Shut up," Lynn snapped. "You're a whore."

Her stepsister rolled her eyes. "Can I just point something out here? You barely know Sam, ok? So there is absolutely no reason to act like a jealous girlfriend."

"I'm not acting like a…"

"Uh, yeah. You kind of are. So you should stop that. Because listening to your jealous prattle annoys the shit out of me."

Lynn glared at her stepsister. Before she could make a retort, however, her cell phone rang. She snatched it up and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Hey, Lynn. It's Sam."

"Oh. Sam." She swallowed and tried to sound pleasant. "Hey. Everything go all right with Rebecca?"

"You know, as all right as could be expected. You guys aren't busy or anything? Everything's ok at the motel?"

"Oh, yeah," Lynn laughed rather nervously. "Everything's fine here."

"Except for you being a psycho-bitch," Jayne muttered from her bed.

Lynn glowered in her stepsister's direction, waving at her to be quiet. Jayne made a face at her and put her headphones back on. "Good," Sam said. "We just finished checking out Zack's place. Becky said the cops have this security footage of Zack coming home around ten the night of the murder, but…"

"You went to the crime scene?" she interrupted, put out. "Without us?"

"Oh, um… well, yeah. Becky had the keys and everything, and she said she'd take us."

"Just like that?" Lynn pressed. "She was perfectly willing to take you two dummies inside a closed crime scene?"

"Um, well… I kind of told her Dean was a cop."

"A cop?" Lynn repeated. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Trust me, I know how wrong it sounds. But it worked. She took us inside. It looked terrible in there, Lynn… all that blood…"

For a moment, Lynn's annoyance and jealousy abated. There was a dead woman, after all, and Sam's friend was in prison. She ought to be more empathetic. "I'm sorry, Sam. Did you know Zack's girlfriend?"

"No. But still… Becky was pretty upset."

Becky. Stupid freaking Becky. Lynn didn't care if Becky was upset. _She_ was upset.

Lynn took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Where was this coming from? She was acting like, well… like a psycho-bitch.

"Did you find anything?" she asked, trying to be normal.

"Just the neighbor's dog acting strange. Apparently the dog lost it right around the time of the murder. We're thinking he saw something."

"Right," Lynn agreed. "Animals can sense that shit. So we definitely think it was something supernatural?"

"Yeah. Becky said there's a tape. It shows Zack coming home around ten that night, but… well, Becky says that's impossible. She swears he was at their parents' house with her until at least after midnight."

"You believe her?"

There was a short silence. "Yeah. I do."

Lynn sensed she'd said the wrong thing. "Sorry. I didn't mean…"

"I know. It's cool. Look, Dean and I are going back to Becky's place to see the tape. She says she has a copy. While we're there…"

"Wait," Lynn interrupted, beside herself by this point. "You're going to watch the tape? Without us?"

"Um, yeah, well… sorry. It's just that Becky…"

"Whatever. It's fine," Lynn cut him off, not wanting to hear the rest of that sentence. It had the word Becky in it. "What is it you were going to say?"

"Can you and Jayne do some research for us? Look up doppelgangers and stuff? I mean, we've got to be dealing with something like that."

Research? Lynn surveyed her surroundings with a scowl. That meant the library. Bud's No-Tell Motel didn't have wireless service. Damn it, anyhow.

"Yeah, sure," she said, trying to sound chipper. It was actually painful to do so.

"Thanks. I'll call again later, after we see the tape."

There was a click. Sam had hung up.

Lynn hung up as well and threw her phone at the bed with an aggravated growl.

"You know, you really need to stop acting so sweet and normal around Sam," Jayne said loftily, turning a page in her book. "Throw around some psycho-bitch. I mean, eventually it's going to come out anyway, and then where will you be?"

Lynn glared at her. Jayne took off her headphones and looked at Lynn expectantly, waiting for her to relay Sam's message. "Sam wants us to do research," Lynn announced. "At the library. Because we're staying at the only motel in the world that doesn't offer wireless service."

Jayne frowned. "If it's that big a pain in the ass, why didn't you just say no?"

"I can't just say no," Lynn protested.

"Why not?"

"Because… I just can't, all right? Now, let's go. We have to look up doppelgangers and stuff."

"We?" Jayne repeated. "Why do I have to go?"

Lynn sighed and gave her stepsister a pleading look. "Please?"

Jayne rolled her eyes, marking her spot in her book with a page of motel stationary, and then got off her bed. "Fine. Why doppelgangers?"

Lynn shrugged. "Well, Becky said the police have a tape showing Zack going into his apartment around ten… which happened to be about two hours before Zack left her house. It couldn't have been him, but it must have been something that looked like him. And the neighbor's dog was acting really crazy, and Becky said that the dog never acted like that before the murder, so... Sam's thinking whatever it was had to be paranormal. Anyway, they just left the crime scene and now they're going to go watch the tape, but Sam just wanted us to…"

"Wait," Jayne interrupted her sharply. Lynn looked over at her stepsister to see a frown forming on her face. "They interviewed the sister, checked out the crime scene, and now they're going to watch the surveillance tape, all without us?"

Lynn nodded. "Yeah."

Jayne's frown became furious. "Those bastards!"

"See, now this is the Jayne I was looking for ten minutes ago!" Lynn exclaimed. "Finally, you get as mad as I am!"

"I can't believe them! Those… those… douche bags! Errr!"

"I agree."

Jayne got her wallet and her keys, scowling and grumbling the whole while. "Fine," she spat. "Let's go to the fucking library."

She stomped out the door.

Lynn followed, feeling mildly guilty for the pleasure she got out of Jayne's foul mood. It was much more fun being cross when Jayne was cross too.

* * *

Dean sat on the arm of the very square, beige couch, staring at the biggest television he'd ever seen. Beside him, perched on the cushions, was Sam's college friend, Rebecca – or Becky, as they called her. Sam stood in Becky's living room, on the other end of the couch, holding the black remote up against his chin. He stared at the television the way he stared at everything he studied… his laptop screen, his schoolbooks… lately, Dad's journal. Dean glanced at his tense younger brother, and then turned his attention back to the bleary surveillance tape playing on Becky's gigantic wide-screen TV.

"Our lawyers hired some sort of video expert," Becky was saying as the three of them stared at the giant screen. "They say the tape's authentic. It wasn't tampered with."

It was hard to be all that sympathetic with the girl sitting on the couch beside him. It was hard to be sympathetic with this Zack character, either. Dean had a hard time understanding how Sam had fallen in with this lot in the first place. Not that Becky didn't seem nice. Not that she wasn't super hot – because she was. She was super freaking hot. But she was a type. They were all types. They were the type that grew up in mansions like this one, with the catalogue perfect rooms, and the latest this and that… they were the type that went away to schools like Stanford because everyone in their family had gone to a school like Stanford, and they were the type that had everything paid for on Daddy's dollar. They weren't like Sam. They hadn't had to work for that schooling, overcome all the odds that said he wouldn't be a good student… overcome those odds enough to pull in a 4.0 and land a full ride to a school like Stanford. They hadn't come from a long tradition of cheap motel rooms and greasy fast food, long car rides to new schools every month or so, roughing it in backwoods cabins that didn't even have indoor plumbing. Dean glanced around the room again. Everything was perfect. Everything was white bread. Everything was just the way Sam wanted it, just the way Sam had planned it would be one day. Dean felt jealousy rippling through his lower intestines, and had to force it all away. White bread or no, the Warrens needed help. And it looked like maybe they needed the sort of help only he and Sam could provide.

"Becky," Sam said suddenly. "Do you think we could get those beers now?"

Dean looked at Sam with interest. "Sure," Becky said, getting off the couch and heading towards the kitchen.

"And maybe some sandwiches?" Sam asked, giving her a playful smirk.

"What do you think this is, Hooters?" Becky replied, her smirk equally playful, as she disappeared into the hall.

"I wish," Dean grumbled, getting to his feet and joining his brother on the opposite side of the sofa. "What is it?"

Sam hit the rewind button. "Check this out."

He replayed what they'd already seen. Zack Warren crossed the street, passing a parked car, and looked the surveillance camera full in the face. Sam hit the pause button. Zack froze in time, his eyes meeting the camera lens.

His eyes glowed with a bright, silvery, very unnatural light.

"Maybe it's just a camera flare," Dean announced. He didn't really believe it, but it was always good to play the devil's advocate.

Sam shook his head. "That's not like any camera flare I ever saw."

Dean stared at the screen. "You know," his brother continued. "Some cultures believe a photograph can catch a glimpse of the soul."

"Right."

"Remember that dog that was freaking out? Maybe he saw this thing. Maybe this is some sort of dark double of Zack's. You know, something that looks like him, but isn't him."

"Like a doppelganger," Dean murmured.

Sam nodded. "Sure would explain how he was in two different places at once," he said. "I thought it might be something like this. I already sent Lynn and Jayne over to the library before we came here. Told them to check out any doppelganger, dark double lore they could find."

Dean snorted. "I'll bet that made their day."

He glanced over at his brother, smirking. Sam was frowning in confusion. "Oh, come on," Dean said incredulously. "You're kidding, right?"

"Lynn didn't seem that upset…"

"Oh, sure, Lynn didn't _seem_ that upset," Dean retorted. "Only cause she's carrying the torch for you. I'll bet deep down she's pissed ten ways from Sunday."

Sam was still frowning. "But…"

"I mean, I can't really blame them," Dean went on. "They're not like Becky Wonderbread over here. They're hunters, Sam, not librarians. If you'd made _me_ sit out on the sidelines like that, I'd be pissed too."

Sam's frown deepened. "Look, I know it kind of sucks for them, but I told Becky I was on a road trip with you. I didn't know how to explain them. They _have _to understand that…"

"Sure," Dean agreed ironically. He honestly couldn't believe Sam didn't understand why the two women he'd invited along on this hunt would be upset about this. "Although, if we'd wanted to, we probably could have found a way to explain them."

"How?" Sam asked incredulously. "They're two hookers we picked up at a truck stop?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, I wish. No, man, I mean… we could have said they were cousins, or family friends, or… fellow cops, I don't know! We could have explained them, that's all. I mean, I know what this is really about."

Sam's confused frown vanished. Instantly, his expression became defensive. Dean inwardly rolled his eyes. Great. Just what they needed. A blowout in Becky's living room.

"What do you mean, what this is really about?"

"Look, man, I told you I get it. I understand. Telling your friends the truth is way worse, I know that. I'd do the same. I'm just saying. _That's_ the real reason you're hiding Lynn and Jayne from Becky. Not because you don't know how to explain them. It's because you don't want to. You're trying to keep the hunting part of your life separate from the other part. This part. You know; the normal part."

Sam's jaw tightened, and Dean knew they were about to fight. But before anything could be said, Sam's cell phone rang. For a moment, Dean was sure he was going to ignore it and commence the arguing. But instead, Sam swallowed his anger and irritation, and answered the phone.

"Hello?"

Dean watched as Sam turned away from him, pacing the area behind the couch. "Oh, hey, Lynn."

There was a pause while Lynn said something. "Right. Sounds good. Hey, can you do me a favor?"

There was another pause, and then Sam chuckled. "Yeah, right. Sorry about that. No library stuff, I promise. It's just, I was thinking. The surveillance tape we're watching? It shows Zack coming in, but not out. Which means the killer must have went out back… and maybe there's a trail. The address is…"

Right, Dean thought to himself, realizing the importance there. There might be a trail. More significantly, a trail that the police would never pursue… because they caught Sam's friend Zack inside.

"Exactly," Sam was saying into the phone now. "So if you and Jayne could head on over there while it's still dark out and take a look…? I mean, Dean and I are kind of tied up at Becky's so…"

Dean watched his brother pace the room as he listened to Lynn's response. "Right. Thanks."

Sam hung up and stopped his pacing. He came back round to the other side of the couch, tucking his cell phone back in his jeans.

"That Lynn?" Dean asked when Sam made no effort at explanation.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Just briefing me on what they found so far. It's not much. I thought I'd send them out to the scene, have them check the back of the building. We forgot to look while we were there, and whatever this thing is must have gone out that way. They'll try to find a trail while we finish up here."

Dean nodded slowly. "Sounds good."

"Yeah, I thought it was best to get them out of the library," Sam went on. "Lynn _did_ sound a little antsy."

Dean nodded again. "Of course."

Sam looked his brother straight in the eye. "But you're wrong."

Before Dean could reply, Becky reentered the room with three beers gripped by their necks in one hand, balancing three sandwiches on the other arm. "Order up, guys," she quipped.

Dean moved to help her, taking two of the sandwiches. They set the food down on the coffee table in front of the couch. "You've got great balance," he smirked. "Lots of potential as a Hooters employee."

Sam rolled his eyes. Becky smirked and batted at his arm. "Ha. Ha."

The three of them sat down in front of the TV and tucked into their beers and sandwiches. Sam hit the play button again, and they focused their attention on the surveillance tape once more.

* * *

"I still don't understand why we're out here," Jayne grumbled.

She and her stepsister stood behind Zack Warren's apartment building, in a yellow circle under the streetlamp. Jayne glared down at the pale gray pavement, poking a loose stone with the toe of her thick black boot. It was cold out there. Not to mention, it was damp and it was dark and it was late. She was tired, she was grumpy, and she was sick of playing lap dog.

Lynn sighed heavily, which only served to further irritate Jayne. Jayne's stepsister was staring at the faceless red brick wall in front of them, her hands on her hips. "Sam asked us to…"

"Yeah, I know damn well what Sam asked us to do," Jayne cut off her stepsister. "I don't understand why you're doing it. You were super pissed at him before, and now you're at his beck and call? What is this Lynn? Sam snaps his fingers and you jump to do his bidding?"

"Shut up," Lynn snapped, rounding on her so fast her black hair caught air. "Just shut up. We didn't have to come, Jayne. We didn't have to help. I asked you. I left it up to you. You're the one who agreed to this shit. You're the one who said all right."

"Sure," Jayne retorted. "After you turned to me with your big sad puppy eyes and silently begged me to say yes. You told me it was my decision, and then you emotionally blackmailed me into doing exactly what you wanted."

"I did not!"

"Sure felt like it!"

"Well, I guess that makes you just too damn sensitive."

"The hell it does. Why don't you…"

"Can we please just look for a trail?" Lynn pleaded. "Do what Sam asked us to do? In spite of everything, there's still some psychotic woman-murdering man-beast on the loose out here. We have innocents to save, Jaynie."

There was a long silence. "Fine." Jayne said finally.

They skulked around the alleyway behind Zack Warren's apartment in stony silence. Lynn headed for the back door, shining her flashlight around the stone stoop. Jayne took the other end, her own flashlight beam bobbing along in the wild green plants growing along the edge of the pavement, not deterred in the least by the faux wooden fence attempting to obstruct them.

Suddenly, Lynn sighed.

"Jaynie," she asked. "Are you upset with me?"

The question caused Jayne's entire body to stiffen. "No," she replied.

Lynn stopped searching. Jayne heard her stop. She refused to turn around and pretended to be fascinated by the fence in front of her. "Are you sure?" Lynn nearly demanded.

"Yeah."

She heard Lynn resume her search. Everyone heard her. She was making a ridiculous amount of noise lifting up the lids on those big blue plastic recycling bins. Jayne rolled her eyes. She was going to get the cops called on them.

Jayne made her way from the fence towards the street where she'd parked Janis, her light still bobbing along on the gray sidewalk.

"Jaynie, I know you're mad at me," Lynn announced quite suddenly. "I just know it. Why?"

She froze. Then Jayne sighed, clicking off her flashlight and turning around to face her stepsister. "I'm not mad," Jayne insisted. Even to_ her_ ears, the words sounded false. "I just… I don't know."

There was a silence. "Jaynie, what's happening to us?" Lynn asked miserably. "We used to be so close. We almost never fought. Now it's like…"

"I know."

"But why though? Do you know why?"

"I… no. Do you?"

"No." Lynn stared at the sidewalk, her flashlight dangling loosely in her hand. Jayne eyed the light, putting all her effort into not telling Lynn to shut it off. "Do you think it's about Stephen?"

"Why would it…"

"I think it's about Stephen."

"I thought you didn't know."

"I lied."

Jayne snorted. "Typical."

"You're mad at me because you think I've given up on him," Lynn accused her. "And I'm mad at Stephen because I think he's given up on us. So you resent me, which in turn hurts my feelings because I don't think I deserve to be resented. I'm the one who stayed, Jayne. I'm the one still here. I'm the one who never leaves, who's stuck by you for years… it's always been you and me. Let Stephen go if he wants to go."

Jayne sighed and stared at the ground. "I can't just let him go. He's in trouble, Lynn. I just feel it."

"He doesn't want our help, Jayne."

"So?"

Lynn sighed. "Have you been listening to anyone, Jayne? All the people we know, the people who care about us – all of us, Stephen included… Did you hear Rufus? Did you hear DeeDee? Even Danny…"

"I don't care."

Lynn sighed again. "Yeah. I know you don't. That's what worries me, Jayne. That you don't care. That you're willing to run into this thing blind. All for Stephen. And he's done so little to deserve it."

"He's our little brother!"

"He left us!"

"He had to. He had a reason. He…"

"Do you even hear yourself?" Lynn exclaimed, stepping forward. She crossed the alleyway and came to a stop before the telephone pole at the corner of the plastic fence. "You think I'm bad? You mock me because I'm chasing after some poor bastard who's still in love with his dead girlfriend? Who probably has ten zillion hot college girls in his address book?"

Jayne frowned at the pole behind Lynn's head. "Listen to yourself," Lynn pushed on. "You're so convinced that Stephen has his reasons, that he's an innocent in all this… god, Jayne. Wake up. If he's in trouble, don't you think he probably got himself into it? Stop making excuses for him, stop clinging to this…"

"Lynn!" Jayne nearly shouted, interrupting her.

"What?!"

Jayne pointed at a spot behind Lynn's head. "Blood."

Lynn whirled around and found a telephone pole lurking over her shoulder. There, caught in a little circle of white flashlight, was a large, dark red splash of blood on the tall wooden pillar. "Huh," she murmured. "What do you know about that?"

Jayne trained her light on the pavement, walking towards the street. "I don't see anything else," she murmured, immeidately dropping the subject of their little brother. She'd never been so glad to see blood. "That must be where the trail ends."

"It can't just end," Lynn argued, joining the search. Thankfully, she seemed willing to drop the subect too. "I don't care what sort of creature we're talking about here… doppelganger, shapeshifter… it's not like they can fly."

"Shapeshifter," Jayne murmured, looking up from the pavement. "You think?"

Lynn shrugged. "Why not? They're certainly more common than doppelgangers."

Jayne nodded. "So, uh… want to call Sam?"

Lynn shrugged again. "Maybe in a minute. First I want to see where the trail goes."

"I told you nowhere," Jayne said, her impatience weaving its way into her tone. "This is where it stops. There's no blood anywhere else."

Lynn looked up at the sky. "They can't fly," she said again.

"True," Jayne agreed. "But some people believe doppelgangers are ghostly apparitions, not flesh and bone doubles. If it's an apparition, it could have disappeared."

"It wouldn't have left a trail, either. No, it's flesh and blood."

Jayne sighed. "Well, genius? Then where did it go?"

Lynn sighed too, shaking her head. "I don't know."

The two stood there by the road, still diligently shining their lights on the pavement, the fences, even the nearby plants, looking for anything that would suggest where Zack's double had disappeared to. They found nothing.

Jayne titled her flashlight down into the street, under her truck. "Hey, Lynn," she said. "I just thought of something you're _really_ not going to like."

Lynn made a face. "Great. Get it over with; tell me."

"Well, the doppelganger/shapeshifter/whatever the hell it is didn't necessarily have to take off flying," Jayne explained, still staring at a spot underneath her truck. "It could have gone… down."

Lynn frowned. "Down?" she repeated.

Jayne gestured towards the truck. Lynn's frown deepened. "What? He had a getaway car? I thought you said down. Janis has nothing to do with down."

"Under the truck, dumbass."

Lynn peered under the truck, grumbling all the while. But the grumbling soon ceased when she spotted what Jayne had pinned with her flashlight.

"Ew," she said, looking back at her stepsister. "I am _not_ going in the sewer."

Ten minutes later, the battered old Nissan had been parked on the opposite side of the street, the two stepsisters had abandoned their flashlights on the ground, and they were now struggling to lift off the manhole cover that led down into the sewers.

"I'm really not going down there," Lynn said again. "You can go. I'll stay here and… watch for doppelgangers."

Jayne ignored her. With a loud grunt and a last, mighty shove, she pushed the cover onto the street beside the manhole. Lynn squeaked and dropped it with a loud, metallic clang.

Jayne sighed. "More noise, please?"

"Sorry," Lynn replied, wincing. Jayne grabbed her flashlight and weaved her belt through the small strap on the end. Then she lowered herself into the man hole, her boots finding the first thin rung on the metal manhole ladder.

Lynn looked worried. "I'm not going down there," she said again.

"I know," Jayne growled. "I heard you the first ten times. No one said you had to."

She began the descent. "Are you going to be all right down there?" Lynn asked.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Maybe I better come."

"You don't have to."

There was a pause as Jayne made her way farther down into the sewer. Then she heard Lynn swear, which was followed by the clatter of her stepsister climbing onto the ladder.

So much for not going down there.

Jayne reached the bottom of the ladder and let go, landing heavily on the hard ground. She quickly unfastened her light from her belt and flicked it on, shining it around on the damp sewer walls and the large puddles around her before stepping forward. Behind her, she heard Lynn hit the ground as well and next, the click of her flashlight.

"I guess this isn't so bad," Lynn muttered.

Jayne rolled her eyes, still investigating the dark, dank tunnels. The trickling, rushing, and dripping sound of water entering the sewer through various points echoed in her ears.

Suddenly, she stopped short, nearly stepping in a pile of flesh colored, sticky, drippy goo.

Frowning, she knelt down beside the pile, shining her light directly on it. Her pocket knife came out of her back pocket, and she opened it up, sticking it in the goop. "What is it?" she heard Lynn ask. Lynn's frantic footsteps approached her. "Did you find something?"

Jayne lifted her knife up, taking the goop with it. The sticky, gel-like substance clung to both her knife and the sewer floor, like a thin string of saliva clinging to both the bottom and the roof of someone's mouth.

"Oh gross," she heard Lynn gag. "What the fuck is that?"

Jayne shrugged, studying it carefully. "Is that skin?" Lynn demanded.

Again, Jayne shrugged. "Maybe," she replied. "Kind of looks like it. You know, in a sick, disgusting, melted way."

"You think that's from the victims?"

She shook her head. "No. Definitely not. This isn't a doppelganger, Lynn. I'm thinking it's a shapeshifter."

"Why?"

"Because a doppelganger is the same thing, all the time," Jayne replied. "It doesn't need to shed."

"You think it… oh, god. Gross," Lynn gagged. "I can't look at that anymore."

Jayne heard her stepsister walk away. She let the skin-like substance slide back to the sewer floor, wiping her knife on the baggy tee shirt she wore under her flannel.

"Ew!" Lynn exclaimed in a loud whisper. "Ew! Jaynie, I found more!"

Jayne got to her feet and raced to her stepsister's side. Lynn was shining her flashlight down on a second pile of skin, her face twisted up with disgust. Jayne wrinkled her nose. "Yep," she agreed. "That's one big pile of skin."

"That means two trails," Lynn murmured. "This is on the opposite side of the ladder. Where do you think it actually went?"

Jayne shone her flashlight down the stretch of sewer before them, and then back the way they came. She shrugged for what felt like the thousandth time. "I don't know. We'll have to follow them both."

She headed back to the ladder. "But first we'll need weapons," she said, fastening her flashlight back to her belt. "And the Winchesters. What time is it Lynn?"

Lynn glanced down at her watch. "Uh… shit, it's nearly four-thirty in the morning."

"Call them anyway," Jayne sighed. "Tell them to get down here."

"Couldn't we just…"

"There are two trails," Jayne interrupted her firmly. "Two trails mean we need two teams. And if we're splitting up, well… we're not splitting up. This is the sewer, Lynn. We're on its turf now."

Lynn glanced back at the pile of skin she'd discovered. "Are you sure? I mean, we could probably handle it."

"Maybe," Jayne replied. "So which way's better? The probably way, or the smart way?"

Lynn sighed.

"I vote smart," Jayne pressed.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Ok," she relented. "Calling Sam."

"Good choice."

The two of them clambered back onto the manhole ladder and headed topside. Jayne sighed as she made her way closer to the street. She wished there hadn't been a second trail to follow, because then she wouldn't have ordered Lynn to call the Winchesters. She would have gone ahead and hunted down the damn thing without them.

* * *


	19. More Skin

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to Nelle07, GoodnightxGoodbye, angeleyenc, and Jayne Darling for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 19: More Skin

The black Impala tore around the corner, and then pulled up behind the Nissan pickup parked on the side of the road. Dean threw the car into park, and both he and his brother jumped out. "All right," Dean said, slamming the door shut. "What are we doing here at five-thirty in the morning?"

"Lynn said her and Jayne found something," Sam replied. He looked around for the two stepsisters, a frown on his face. "Except I don't see them anywhere…"

"Great," Dean grumbled, drinking deeply from the paper coffee cop in his hand. "They drag us out here at five-thirty in the freaking morning and then aren't even here when we show up."

"We're here," a familiar voice said from behind him. Dean jumped about a foot in the air, nearly spilling his coffee, and then whirled around.

Lynn sat up out of the bottom of the Nissan's bed, grinning. Sam, having been surprised as well, felt his surprise quickly fade into a smile.

Dean glared at her. "Ha."

She smirked. "Jayne's around," she announced. "Back in that stinky sewer, probably."

Sam frowned. "Stinky sewer?" he repeated.

Lynn shrugged. "Yeah. We found some nasty looking piles of skin or something down there."

Dean grimaced. "Piles of skin?"

She nodded. "Yeah. See, we found a trail, but it ended right there."

Lynn pointed at the telephone pole behind Sam's head. He looked at it over his shoulder, instantly seeing the dark red splash on the light wood.

"Blood," he murmured.

"Yep," Lynn agreed. "But that's where it ended. So Jayne got to thinking that maybe…"

"Whatever this thing is hides out in the sewer," Dean finished. He took another gulp of his coffee. "That girl's got a freaky mind. I like it."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well she also thinks she knows what this thing is too, and she doesn't think it's a doppelganger."

"No?" Sam asked. "What does she think it is?"

"Shapeshifter."

All three of them jumped at the sound of a new voice. Jayne's white-blonde head poked itself out of the open manhole. "Definitely a shapeshifter," she continued, dragging herself out of the sewer.

"Shapeshifter?" Sam asked as she climbed all the way out of the manhole, settling herself on the street.

Jayne nodded. "Yep. Explains the skin. Doppelgangers don't shed. Shapeshifters do."

"How do you know that?" Dean asked.

She shrugged. "Read it in one of those library books you two had me leafing through yesterday."

"Right," Sam said, almost wincing. "Sorry."

"So what's the deal?" Dean asked. "Why am I here at five-thirty in the morning?"

"Because the two of you did all the work yesterday and confined Jayne and me to the library?" Lynn offered up sweetly, batting her lashes. "Revenge, baby."

"And there's two trails to follow down there," Jayne added. "I poked around a little bit before you two got here, and they both look legit. So we're going to have to split up."

"Two trails?" Dean repeated, making a face. "Of skin?"

Jayne nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"Great," Dean said, throwing back more coffee. "Freaking dandy."

"Sounds good." Sam murmured.

Suddenly, the four hunters heard sirens. Sam instinctively reached down and grabbed Jayne's hand, hauling her off the street and onto the sidewalk. An ambulance tore down the street, lights flashing, and rounded the corner. Sam and Jayne looked across the street at Dean and Lynn.

"We're going to check that out, aren't we?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer.

Sam nodded. "Yep."

"Great," Jayne grumbled. She knelt down beside the manhole, reaching for the heavy cover. "Someone help me with this thing so some idiot doesn't fall down there."

Sam knelt down too and helped Jayne wrestle the cover back on the manhole. Once the entrance to the sewer had been covered up again, the two of them got to their feet, brushing off their jeans. Dean pushed himself off his car and Lynn hopped down out of the truck bed. Then the four hunters took off in the direction the ambulance had disappeared.

* * *

"What happened?"

Sam tore his eyes from the crowd of people gathered outside the white stucco apartment building, away from the policemen stretching yellow caution tape from sapling to sapling in the tree-lawn. He turned his eyes on his brother, shooting him an annoyed glance. Dean's question had been directed a young dark skinned woman, fairly pretty, wearing a purple jogging suit, and his tone had been anything but empathetic.

The jogger didn't seem put off by Dean's tone, though. "He tried to kill his wife," she replied, jerking her chin towards one of the squad cars. A young Asian man with perfectly waved black hair was being handcuffed and forced inside the back of the car. "Tied her up and beat her."

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. It was clear to Sam that his brother had reached the same conclusion he had: whatever had killed Zack's girlfriend had struck again.

"Really," Dean murmured.

"Yeah," the woman continued. She sounded vaguely shocked. "I used to see him go to work every morning. He'd wave, say hello." She shook her head. "He seemed like such a nice guy."

Sam saw Lynn and Jayne walk away from the crowd and nudged Dean. The four hunters met up off to the side of the building, away from onlookers and eavesdroppers.

"Well?" Sam asked.

"So, sounds like Jayne was right," Lynn said in a hushed tone. "We talked to a few of the patrolmen, and they said the husband claimed he was driving home from a business trip when his wife was attacked. Apparently, when he got home, he saw himself inside the house."

"Himself?" Sam repeated.

Jayne nodded. "Yep," she said. "Cops think he's crazy."

"I'm willing to go with Jayne on this one," Dean put in. "Two identical attacks, within blocks of one another? Sounds like we've got a shapeshifter prowling the neighborhood."

"Trail looks like it ends at the road here too, same as at Zack's," Sam agreed. "I guess this means we head into the sewers."

Dean shrugged as the four hunters made their way back to where they'd left their vehicles. "Well, at least we know how to stop this thing," he said. "If there was one thing Dad taught us, it's that there's one sure way to kill a shapeshifter."

"Silver bullet to the heart," Sam said, smiling.

"That's right."

Minutes later, the four of them were back where they'd started. Jayne and Dean went to their respective vehicles and started digging out pistols, flashlights, and silver bullets, while Sam and Lynn knelt down beside the manhole and struggled to haul the cover off.

"This ought to be fun," Lynn grumbled as the two of them slid the cover off and settled it on the street.

"Not thrilled about the sewer?" Sam asked with a smile.

She shook her head. "No. Gross. Almost as gross as the piles of melting skin. Shapeshifters are nasty little fuckers, you know that?"

He laughed. Lynn gestured for him to go first. That was when Sam's phone rang. He answered it quickly. "This is Sam."

"Where are you?"

He recognized Becky's voice immediately. "We're near Zack's place. Just checking a few things out."

"Well, Sam, just stop, ok, because I really don't need your help anymore."

Sam frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I told the lawyers we went to the crime scene."

The words nearly caused his heart to stop. He sighed. "Why would you do that?"

"I told them we were with a police officer," Becky went on, her voice getting icier by the minute. "And they checked it out and they told me there is no Detective Dean Winchester."

"Bec…"

"You know, Sam, I don't understand why you would lie to me about something like that."

"We're trying to help."

Becky laughed bitterly. "Oh, trying to help? Do you realize that was a sealed crime scene? This could have just ruined Zack's case."

"Bec, I'm sorry, but…"

"No, good-bye Sam."

There was a click. She'd hung up on him.

Sam hung up too, hanging his head. Lynn watched him steadily. "Was that Becky?" she asked.

He looked up at her and forced a smile. "Yeah."

"Let me guess," Lynn said dryly. "She found out Dean's not really a cop, and now she's plenty pissed."

Sam chuckled softly, not really meaning it. "Yeah. That's about right."

Lynn nodded, grabbing her lower lip with her teeth. "Probably should have told her the truth, huh?"

He tensed. He hadn't wanted to hear that right now. "How could I?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "Sometimes people are more understanding than you think. You know, if you tell them what's up before ruining their older brother's murder case."

Sam looked at her.

Lynn looked at the pavement. "Sorry," she said. "I guess it's not really any of my business."

There was a pause. "I didn't lie to her," Sam murmured stubbornly. "Exactly."

"Right," Lynn nodded. "It's an omission, not a lie."

Sam looked at her again.

She shrugged a second time, smiled big, and then stepped onto the first rung of the manhole ladder. Two seconds later, she made a face, glanced down into the dark dank hole below her, and crawled on down into the sewer.

Jayne brushed past him and knelt down on the pavement. She bent over the manhole and handed her supplies down to Lynn, whose unintelligible grumbling echoed up from the depths of the storm sewer. Then Jayne crawled in after her stepsister.

Dean, who had been right on Jayne's heels, stopped and looked at Sam. Sam refused to look at him, knowing that Dean had overheard everything. He wasn't in the mood for Dean's two cents. He hadn't been in the mood for Lynn's either.

"I hate to say it," Dean said. "But that's exactly what I'm talking about."

Sam kept staring at the pavement.

"You lie to your friends because if they knew the real you they'd be freaked. It's just… it would be easier if…"

"If I was like you," Sam interrupted.

Dean smirked for his younger brother. "Hey man, like it or not, we are not like other people."

There was a short silence. "But I'll tell you one thing," Dean said suddenly, taking a pistol from his pack. "This whole gig? It ain't without perks."

He handed the pistol to Sam. Sam took it, a small grin forming on his face despite himself. Dean crawled down into the manhole, and Sam tucked the pistol in the back of his jeans.

He was the last one to climb down the ladder, and consequently, he dragged the manhole cover back over the opening after him. Like Jayne had pointed out, it wouldn't do for some idiot to fall in through the open manhole.

"All right," Jayne announced, taking charge. Sam blinked in surprise. He'd only been down there for about two seconds, after all. "Dean, Sam, you go left. Lynn and I will go right."

She headed off to the right, not giving anyone a chance to argue. Lynn smiled and shrugged at the brothers before following after her.

Dean made an effeminate mumbling sound as he and Sam took off in the opposite direction. Sam smirked at his brother's poor attempt to mimic the elder of the two sisters. "Can you believe her?" Dean grumbled, shining his flashlight down the sewer tunnel. "Who died and made her boss?"

Sam shrugged. "Give her a break, Dean. We _did _suck all the fun out of yesterday and…"

"We?" Dean retorted. "What we? That was all you, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine. _I_ sucked all the fun out of yesterday. Still, give her a break."

"Yeah, I'll give her a break," Dean muttered meaningfully.

Sam considered suggesting that Jayne only aggravated Dean so much because the two of them had a lot in common… but decided they could have that argument another day.

On the opposite end of the tunnel, Jayne and Lynn were picking through the sewer system as well. Jayne was in the lead, shining her flashlight every which way in her search for signs of the shifter. Lynn was behind her, whining.

"You think he and Becky will make up?" she asked, having just gone over the details of the fight Sam had had with his college buddy.

"I have no idea," Jayne replied wearily.

"I don't think they will," Lynn said. "I mean, that was a big blow out."

"Mm-hmm."

"But if Sam proves Zack's innocence, she'll have to be grateful…"

"Mm-hmm." Seriously, if Lynn didn't stop whining, Jayne was going to practice shooting shifters on her stepsister. That would give the girl something to whine about.

"Do you think they ever had anything in college?" Lynn asked. "You know, do you think they were ever… _together_ or anything?"

Jayne rolled her eyes. This was getting ridiculous. "Well, considering he only met Rebecca while he was at Stanford, and he spent the majority of his college career dating a girl named Jessica Moore… no. I'd say he and Rebecca never got it on."

"Oh. Good point." Lynn sounded relieved. Jayne hoped that would be the end. A silly thing to hope, really, when she knew it wouldn't be. Her stepsister's relief was, as expected, short lived. "Do you think they ever wanted to?"

Sighing heavily, Jayne stopped in her tracks and gave Lynn an exasperated look over her shoulder. Lynn winced, dropping her eyes sheepishly to the floor. "Sorry. I'll shut up."

"Good," Jayne replied, pushing on through the tunnels again.

They walked in silence for a long time. It was dark in the tunnels, and Jayne couldn't see much that wasn't illuminated by her flashlight. She saw puddles and rushing little streams, and dank moldy bricks, but no piles of skin. The sound of trickling water murmured constantly throughout the sewer.

Suddenly, she heard scratching and twittering from one of the dark, dank corners. "Ew," Lynn squeaked from behind her. "I hear rats. Gross."

Jayne suppressed a shudder. "They're just rats."

"So? That doesn't make them any less gross."

"I thought you liked rats."

"Yeah, the cute white ones in the pet store. Not the icky brown ones living in the sewer. Yuck."

Jayne sighed, shining her flashlight around her impatiently. "I haven't seen skin or clothes in over an hour."

"Think we lost the trail?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe we should keep going for a little while. Just in case."

"Yeah, ok," Jayne conceded. "But only a little while longer."

"Good. Because it smells down here. And there's rats."

* * *

In the opposite direction, still exploring the dark, damp sewers, Dean and Sam had found something slightly more interesting to talk about than Rebecca Warren or the difference between white and brown rats.

They made their way through the dank tunnels, shining their flashlights into corners and down long passages stemming off the main line they were following. They passed damp, rusty pipes.

After hours of this, once Sam had taken the lead and was headed down into a smaller passage, both flashlight and pistol at the ready, Dean announced, "I think we're close to its lair."

"What makes you say that?" Sam asked.

"Because there's another puke-inducing pile next your face."

Sam whirled around and saw the nasty skin and blood combination splattered on the pipe beside him, illuminated by the glow of Dean's flashlight. He gagged. "Oh, god."

His face twisted up in repulsion, Sam turned away from the nastiness and focused instead on the next thing Dean had caught with the flare from the flashlight. It was yet another pile of skin, mixed in with a shirt, pants, and a single boot. His grimace deepened.

"Looks like its lived here for a while," Dean observed.

"Who knows how many murders he's gotten away with," Sam added.

He turned away from the sight, his flashlight beam shining over Dean's shoulder. The glare revealed a short Asian man standing directly behind Dean, his eyes glowing silver in the light.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed.

Dean whirled around as well, but the shifter was faster. He shoved Dean into the wall and ran for it.

Sam pulled the trigger of his pistol twice, missing the shifter both times. The creature disappeared into the wet, twisted jungle of thick, rusting pipes.

Sam immediately turned his attention to Dean, who was struggling to straighten up while clinging to his arm. But Dean refused to let his brother help him. "Get the son of a bitch!" he ordered.

Reluctant as he was to leave his brother, there was no arguing with Dean when he used the Dad voice. Sam took off in the direction the shifter had fled. He tore through the sewer, splashing through the deep, wide puddles, his jacket rubbing up against damp, rusty pipes, the smell of mildew and decay filling his nostrils.

And then, the beam of his flashlight fell on the thin black rungs of a ladder. At the top was an open gaping hole where the fresh night air and the bluish glow of the streetlamps floated down into the sewer. Sam began to climb.

At the surface, he found himself climbing out of a boxy sewer grate just behind a black iron bench in the center of a small park. Sam climbed out onto the grass, clutching his gun, his eyes roving cautiously over the seemingly unshaken pedestrians, the glowing streetlights, the shadows falling across the grass and the cement walkways.

The shifter was gone.

Pained grunting sounded from behind him. Sam turned back to the rectangular grate and found his brother climbing out of the sewer as well, trying to hold into his pistol and nurse the pain in his arm at the same time. Dean tucked his pistol into his jacket, glancing about furtively, and shook off the pain.

"Let's split up," Sam said.

Dean agreed. "All right. I'll meet you around the other side."

Sam nodded. The two brothers tore off across the park in opposite directions.

Once out of the park, Sam slowed to a brisk, purposeful walk. He marched down the crowded city sidewalks, past brightly lit shop windows, chattering shoppers, and foggy subway grates. He kept one hand tucked inside his brown hooded jacket, clutching his pistol. The idea was to be prepared for an attack, but not draw any unnecessary attention to himself.

He kept walking, seeing no sign of the shapeshifter. Finally, he met up with Dean on the proposed dark corner. "Hey," his brother greeted him, arms spread out wide. "Anything?"

Sam shook his head. "No. He's gone."

"All right," Dean said, glancing over his shoulder. "Let's get back to the car."

They crossed the street, Sam in the lead. After a short walk, they ended up back at the Impala.

"Nissan's still here," Dean observed.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "If we hadn't just chased the shifter all through the city, I'd say he'd got to them. Been sort of a long time."

"Yeah," Dean nodded, not seeming at all concerned. "You got the keys?"

Sam reached for the car keys that were tucked inside his jacket pocket. Then, for some inexplicable reason, he froze.

It wasn't like Dean to be so unconcerned. Well, it was, actually, but at the same time…

"Hey, didn't Dad once face a shapeshifter in San Antonio?" he asked.

Dean paused for a moment, but there was nothing in his face that suggested anything but confusion at the random comment. "No, that was Austin," he replied. "And it turned out not to be a shapeshfiter, it was a thoughtform. A psychic projection, remember?"

"Oh, right," Sam replied with a self conscious little laugh. That was in fact the right answer. The exact right answer. The unsettled feeling vanished. "Here you go."

He tossed Dean the keys. Dean caught them with his left hand. Sam went to get into the passenger seat, and Dean popped the trunk.

It was only a few moments later, when he had just settled himself comfortably in the old car, that he realized the significance of Dean catching the keys with his left hand.

So fast he barely remembered the process, he was out of the car and around the back corner, his pistol tight in his hand. He aimed his gun at Dean's head and cocked it, shouting, "Don't move!"

Dean – or not Dean, he reminded himself – whirled away from the trunk to face him, holding his hands up in surrender. "What have you done with him?" Sam demanded.

"Dude, chill," the shapeshifter replied, doing an excellent impression of Dean. "It's me, ok?"

"No, I don't think so," Sam retorted, taking a step closer. "Where's my brother?"

"You're about to shoot him! Sam, calm down."

"You caught those keys with your left," Sam pushed on mercilessly. "Your shoulder was hurt."

The shapeshifter shrugged Dean's shoulders. "Yeah, it's better. What do you want me to do, cry?"

Sam wasn't falling for the act. He took a steadying breath. "You're not my brother," he insisted.

And then a change came over Dean – no, it wasn't Dean, damn it! He started advancing on Sam, his hands still up but not in a surrendering position. Sam unconsciously stepped back. "Why don't you pull the trigger, then?" the shapeshifter asked. "Hmm? Because you're not sure."

Sam clutched the gun tighter, not backing down. "Dude, you know me!" the thing that looked like Dean persisted.

"I don't," Sam replied.

The shapeshifter stared at him for a second. And then, with a lightening quick move, he snatched the tire iron from the trunk, whipping it across Sam's torso, effectively knocking the gun from his hand. Sam had no time to react. As quickly as the shifter had disarmed him, he once again whipped the tire iron at Sam, smashing the heavy metal stick into the side of his head.

Sam's knees crumpled as the pain exploded in his skull and he went down, hitting the pavement hard. His head spun. A satisfied smirk crossed the shifter's face. That was the last thing Sam saw before he drifted out of consciousness.

* * *

Lynn chewed her lip nervously, fishing her cell phone out of her jeans pocket for what felt like the fiftieth time to check the time. Beside her, Jayne let loose a heavy sigh and started drumming annoyingly on the rim of the truck bed.

Rolling her eyes, Lynn turned away from her stepsister, dialing Sam's number into her phone. After a short wait, a woman's recorded voice informed her that Sam's number was out of service – just as she had the other four times she'd tried to call him.

Out of sheer desperation, Lynn dialed Dean's number next. She tapped her foot impatiently on the street, leaning against the passenger side door of Jayne's truck, and looked up at the darkened sky. The stars were starting to come out. The Impala was gone, but without explanation. No matter what the boys' faults were, they wouldn't have ditched them. They wouldn't have hung up their weapons and gone home without a phone call. It wasn't proper hunting etiquette. They had to know better than this.

Sam and Dean were not coming out of the sewer.

The woman's recorded voice sounded once again, informing her that Dean's number wasn't in service at the moment either.

Lynn sighed as heavily as her stepsister had moments before. She closed up her phone and tucked it back into her jeans. Jayne looked up from the street and met her eyes, raising her eyebrow. "Something's wrong," Lynn announced.

Jayne nodded. "Yeah. They're idiots."

"That's not what I meant. I think they ran into the shifter down there or something. Neither of their phones are in service and they've been down there too long. They're in trouble."

"Yeah," Jayne agreed. "What I said. They're idiots."

Lynn gave her an irritated look. "We better do something."

"I know," Jayne sighed again. "Ok. Let's think."

"The shifter had to have gotten to them. It's the only explanation."

"Great. So, what then? He's got them tied up in their motel room, slicing up their pretty faces?"

"Don't be stupid, Jayne," Lynn said, rolling her eyes a second time. Then she frowned. "Wait. Did you call them pretty?"

Jayne seemed embarrassed, but hid it well. "Whatever."

"They must still be in the sewer. They probably found the shifter's lair."

There was a silence. "Well," Jayne said finally. "I guess that means we're going in after them."

Lynn nodded her agreement. "Yep."

Jayne began digging their weapons out of the back of the truck once more. Lynn dialed the number of the cell company.

Jayne listened with half an ear as Lynn talked to the phone company representative on the other end, wheedling her way into getting the GPS on one of the boy's phones turned on. By the time Jayne was ready to go, Lynn had giggled into the receiver, thanked the phone company rep profusely, and hung up the phone, staring hungrily at her freshly turned on laptop.

"Found them," she announced, the satisfaction evident in her voice.

"Cool," Jayne murmured. "Where?"

"It looks like they're by that park downtown," Lynn replied. "We'll head in that direction, try and find a manhole or a sewer grate."

Jayne nodded. "All right. Let's do this."

Lynn began tucking her laptop safely away in the cab of the pickup. Jayne fidgeted with her weapons, growing impatient. "Ready," Lynn said finally, slamming the door to the truck closed.

Jayne handed her some of the chosen weaponry. They'd taken only a few steps in the direction of the park before Jayne froze suddenly, her brow contorted by what had to have been a very nasty realization.

"What is it?" Lynn asked, worried.

"Slicing up babes is this freak's MO, right?" Jayne replied.

Lynn blinked. "Um, yeah…"

"Well, let's say you're this shapeshifter," Jayne explained. "And you've got a couple of decent looking men tied up in your sewer lair. They happen to be friends with a young blonde woman who – according to some news photos – is very attractive. And with those decent looking men locked safely out of the way, you are free to steal one of their faces."

Vague horror began gnawing on Lynn's insides. "What are you saying?"

Jayne shrugged. "Well, let's say you're in the mood to slice up some honeys and you happen to be wearing a Winchester. Where would _you_ go?"

Lynn's eyes got huge. "Rebecca?"

"Yeah," Jayne sighed. "Rebecca."

They stood in the street for a moment, contemplating their next move. "Someone better warn her," Lynn murmured.

Jayne snorted. "Oh, sure. 'Hey, Becky, you don't know us, but we're friends of Sam and Dean… right. The Sam and Dean who lied to you and wrecked your brother's murder case? Well, there's this shapeshifting loony who like to slice up women and can make himself look like anyone, and we think he might be coming after you.' That ought to go over real well."

"Well, we have to do something," Lynn retorted. "Go… stand guard over at her place or something."

"If the shifter hasn't already shown up," Jayne said darkly. She took a deep breath and then took charge. "Ok. Someone has to go help Becky, and someone else has to help the boys. You go save the dumbasses. I'll go save the civvie."

She winked at Lynn and then climbed up into Janis's driver seat. Lynn stared after her, clutching her little bag of weapons. "You have your gun, right?" she called after Jayne, unable to help the sudden rush of motherly concern.

Jayne sent her an incredulous look. "What am I, an idiot?"

"Sorry."

Jayne turned the key in the ignition. Janis rumbled to life. "Jaynie," Lynn said, the worry still eating away at her. She couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that had seized hold of her guts. "Be careful, ok?"

"Always am, right?" Jayne smirked. The smirk faded almost instantly. "You too."

Then Jayne threw the truck into drive and wheeled away from the curb. Lynn watched her go, still uneasy. Then she took a deep breath, trying to shake off her unsettlement, and headed off in the direction of the park.

* * *

Sam blinked awake, his head throbbing. Something hard and cold was behind his head, and something else tight and scratchy was up against his throat. He cleared his throat, blinking against the dim light. The light was dim, yes, but still too bright. Sam glanced around him, finding immediately that he couldn't seem to move. It took only a moment to realize he was tied to a pole.

Or maybe it was a pipe. Sam breathed deep through his nostrils, catching the damp stench of mildew. He could hear the steady trickling of water. Something cold and wet was soaking through the seat of his pants. Sam blinked again, his eyes refusing to focus.

Finally, he could see. The dim light came from some strategically placed candles. The room before him was gray and damp and dim. He heard footsteps coming closer, moving through the gray towards him. Sam struggled against the ropes.

He looked up and saw Dean. His brother came towards him, his eyes wide with mocking concern. He held a bundle of rope in his hand.

The other hand made a fist and smacked Sam across the face.

Dean – but he wasn't Dean, remember? – walked away. "Where is he?" Sam called after him, trying to making his rasping voice sound tough. "Where's Dean?"

"I wouldn't worry about him. I'd worry about you."

"Where is he?"

The shifter turned to him, his expression dark. "You don't really want to know."

Sam frowned, confused by the response.

"I swear," the shifter went on, chuckling bitterly. "The more I learn about you and your family? And I thought I came from a bad background."

"What do you mean, learn?" Sam demanded.

The shifter smirked, examining a long, shiny knife. Then he closed his eyes, tight, and grasped his forehead as though her were in pain.

For several long seconds, he stood that way, Sam watching him in confusion. Then the shifter opened his eyes and turned to Sam.

"He's sure got issues with you."

Sam watched warily as the monster that looked so much like his brother made his way closer to him. "You got to go to college," he went on. "He had to stay home."

Determination suddenly hardened the shifter's face. "I mean, I had to stay home."

The shifter was too close now. Sam watched him closely, trying not to betray how uneasy the creature's proximity was making him.

"With Dad," the shifter continued. "You don't think I had dreams of my own? But Dad needed me. Where the hell were you?"

"Where is my brother?" Sam asked again.

"I am your brother," the shifter snapped, leaning into Sam's face. "You see, deep down, I'm just jealous. You got friends, you could have a life. Me? I know I'm a freak. And sooner or later, everyone's going to leave me."

He straightened up and walked away. "What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"You left," the shifter returned. "Hell, I did everything Dad asked me to, and he ditched me too. No explanation, no nothing, just poof! Left me with your sorry ass."

The shifter grabbed his bag and took a step closer to Sam. "But this life? It ain't without its perks. I meet the nicest people! Like little Becky. You know, Dean would bang her if he had the chance."

He smirked at Sam. "Let's see what happens."

Suddenly, without warning, the shifter threw a blanket over Sam's head. Sam heard the shifter's footsteps as he left the little sewer lair, the echo fading as he moved farther and farther away. And then the youngest Winchester faded into the black.

* * *

Jayne parked her truck around the corner from Becky's house, acting out of some strange caution that she couldn't quite explain. She had no reason to suspect the shifter was anywhere near Becky Warren's house, she had no reason at all to believe…

But still. She wouldn't want to warn the bastard she was coming, now would she?

She snuck along the bushes lining the sidewalk, her gun held tightly in her hand. A quick glance around the corner of Becky's huge house confirmed her worst suspicions.

Dean's beloved Impala was parked at the curb, directly in front of Becky's house.

Sighing, Jayne ducked back into the bushes, leaning against the stucco wall of the mansion and contemplated her options.

And then she heard the other cars pull up.

Jayne silently poked her head around the corner once more. Cop cars were pulling up around the black Impala, and heavily armed and armored police officers were crawling out of their vehicles and making a beeline for the front door.

Jayne once again flattened herself against the wall of the house, stealthily creeping deeper into the dark shadowy foliage. She heard the muffled pop of a gun wearing a silencer, heard the lock on the front door hit the entrance hall floor with a clink.

It was quiet, but it was enough. The shifter, if he was still there, had plenty of warning to get the hell out.

As the officers marched inside the front door, Jayne picked her way through the bushes into Becky's backyard, cautiously ducking under windowsills to avoid one of the officers detecting her. She made her way into the back, ducking behind another clump of shrubbery.

The high-pitched screams were muffled by the walls of the house – and perhaps a gag as well. It wouldn't surprise her. Becky must have been the one making those noises.

The window on the second floor opened and she saw him. The light from the street hit him just right, and she almost would have bet it was Dean – just Dean. The short dark hair, the broad shoulders, the stoic, defensive stance.

But the light had hit him right, and she saw the glowing silver of the shapeshifter's eyes.

Gunshots were fired. He leapt from the window and fell down into the yard, landing on the opposite side of the lawn. Jayne crouched down lower in the bush and watched as he vaulted over the bushes as the far end of the yard.

She darted from the bush and followed. The shapeshifter glanced over his shoulder as she leapt over the same bushed he had moments before. Eyes widening, he raced away from the street, into the backyard of another too large, too fancy home.

Jayne followed. The first thing she noticed about the yard was that the shapeshifter was not in it.

Slowly, her gun aimed to shoot anything that moved, Jayne moved soundlessly through the yard. She heard a low chuckled and spun, pointing her gun in the direction the sound had come from.

No one was there.

"I always knew you didn't like me," Dean's voice sounded. "But actually shooting me? Didn't think you had it in you, Goldilocks."

Jayne whirled around again, but still couldn't find him. Something in her balked at the nickname. That was what Dean always called her, and it had always annoyed the hell out of her.

But more importantly, this wasn't Dean and she resented the shapeshifter's use of Dean's nickname. Really, truly resented it – resented it even more than she did when the real Dean used it. And that was kind of weird.

"Can't shoot me if you can't find me, Goldilocks."

"Stop calling me that," Jayne snapped.

A twig cracked and Jayne whirled, pulling the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the still backyard. A piece of Dean's dark blue jacket flashed by her eyes, disappearing into some shrubs.

"Damn, woman," the shifter said. "I know I'm not on your list of favorite people, but that's no reason to kill me."

"Sure it is," Jayne growled, squinting into the shrubs. Where the hell had he gone?

"You're going to kill me then? I'm a hunter just like you. Even saved your life once."

"No, you didn't," Jayne replied. "You're not Dean. Know how I know? Because the real Dean – despite his many faults – is _not_ a coward."

"I'm a coward?"

"Running away from me? Hiding in the bushes? All cowardly things to do. Why don't you come out and fight me like a man?"

"If you say so, Goldilocks."

Jayne practically jumped out of her skin. The voice was in her ear. She whirled around, but the gun was instantly knocked from her hand, and a fist crushed the side of her head.

She fell to the grass. Her head felt like it was on fire. Jayne blinked, forcing herself to stay conscious. The shapeshifter stood over her, delivering Dean's trademark smirk. "I guess the big bad wolf finally caught up to that pesky little Goldiocks, huh?" he quipped.

Jayne frowned through the pain. "Wolf?" she repeated. "It's Goldilocks and the three bears, you idiot."

He smirked again, and then his heavy black boot smashed into her skull. The world faded away, and Jayne lost consciousness at last.

* * *


	20. Calling in the Cops Helps No One

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to Firefly Orain Xi-Wang, Nelle07, angeleyenc, Padme 4000, ThreeMoons, Little Rock'n'Roll Queen, legrowl, and GoodnightxGoodbye for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 20: Calling in the Cops Helps No One

Lynn picked her way through the sewer, cringing with every step she took. It was kind of spooky in the dark, dank sewer, and that spookiness made a small part of her wish for Jayne. Her stepsister's presence would mean there'd be another person to look out for trouble… and well, fine. She'd admit it. If Jayne were there, she'd be slightly less freaked out.

Yet, a larger part of her was extremely glad she was alone. As long as she was alone, no one could see her attempting to move through the sewer as quickly and yet as cautiously as possible… which meant no one could see her doing what she was sure was equivalent to some sort of awkward chicken dance. Lynn crept along the dank, moldy tunnels on tiptoe, half running, with her pistol clutched tightly in one hand and her flashlight in the other.

Icy water dribbled on her shoulder. Lynn jumped in surprise, and then winced. Ew.

She tried very hard not to rub up against the large rusty pipe beside her – seeing as there was a disgusting mash of skin and other bodily fluids congealing on said pipe. Great. Gross. Gag.

The beam of her flashlight caught a pile of clothing covered in more of the nasty mash several feet in front of her. Her nose wrinkled up in disgust.

Well, at least she knew she was getting closer to the shifter's lair.

Lynn stepped over the disgusting pile of skin and around the next corner. She made her way down a short, narrow passage, trying not to touch the walls on either side of her. At the end of the passage, she saw a dim glow, and rounded the corner in the direction the glow was coming from.

There, around the corner, was a large room-like space lit by several candles. Strange things littered the small space. There were the fairly normal yet out of place things like clothing and toiletries, and the really icky things like skin and fingernails, and there were also the strange and creepy things, like chains and ropes and knifes.

Lynn gripped her gun tighter as she made her way deeper into the shifter's lair. Suddenly, she was startled by a high pitched squeak, followed by rapid, frantic scratching. She jumped and squealed, shining her flashlight at the source of the noise.

A big, stinky sewer rat.

"Ew!" she exclaimed, momentarily forgetting the need for quiet. "Ew! Oh my god, that's just _gross_! How the _fuck_ does someone live down here!"

"Lynn?"

She froze at the familiar voice. "Sam?"

"Lynn? Sam?" A second voice rang out into the small chamber, also familiar. "That better really be you guys and not that freak of nature."

Clearly Dean.

Lynn heard Sam's laughter. "Yeah, it's me. Lynn?"

"Yeah," she said quickly, darting over to where his voice had sounded from. "It's really me."

She saw a large lump leaning against a rusty pipe that traveled the height of the room, covered by a dark gray blanket. Lynn gave the blanket a hard tug, pulling the worn, fuzzy fabric down off the lump. Sam blinked up at her, trying to twist his neck loose from the rope connecting it to the pipe. Lynn gasped, the sight of the rope instantly constricting her chest muscles with panic. The blanket slipped from her hands and she let it pool in his lap. Quickly, she pulled a small knife out of her boot and started sawing away at his bonds.

"Oh my god, are you all right?" she demanded.

"Yeah," Sam assured her, grinning slightly. "I'm fine."

"Good," she sighed. She released his wrists and moved onto his neck.

"How did you find us?" Sam asked.

Lynn smiled briefly at him before returning her eyes to the rope, and then cursed inwardly when she realized how shy the gesture must have looked. "Called up your phone company. I told them you were missing _and_ you were an epileptic. They turned the tracking signal on in your cell phone."

"Yeah?" Lynn nodded, and Sam snorted. "Wow. What an invasion of my privacy."

Lynn was affronted. "A very helpful invasion!" she protested.

"Gee, your bantering is adorable," Dean called sarcastically from the opposite end of the chamber. "So, I guess no one's going to ask if _I'm_ ok."

Sam looked over his shoulder at his older brother and Lynn followed his gaze. The elder Winchester had managed to shrug off the blanket covering his head without help, and was now working on his bonds.

Lynn finished untying Sam and stood up straight, offering him her hand. He pretended not to see it, standing up on his own. Then he gave her a short, grateful smile and headed over to see to his brother.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. Really? That was all the thanks she got?

Sam helped his brother free himself from the ropes, and Dean clambered to his feet. "You all right?" Sam asked belatedly.

Dean scoffed. "Your concern is touching, Sam." He glanced around the room, eyebrow raised. "Where's Goldilocks?"

"Rebecca's house," Lynn replied. "We couldn't find you guys and you weren't picking up your phones, so we got worried and decided to look foryou. And then Jayne got to thinking and started worrying that if the shifter had somehow… waylaid you… that he'd make himself look like one of you and go after Becky. She went over there hoping to head him off." Lynn shrugged, and then smirked. "Oh, and she said you're both pretty."

"Pretty?" Dean repeated, sounding slightly put out.

Sam's face – which had appeared mildly amused up until this point – suddenly grew incredibly grave. "Oh no," he murmured. "The shapeshifter _did_ head to Rebecca's. He told me before he left. And… he left looking like Dean."

"Well, he'd not stupid," Dean joked. "He picked the handsome one."

Sam smirked. "Handsome? I thought you were pretty."

Dean's face fell. Lynn normally would have found this amusing, but Sam's announcement had fairly panicked her. "Crap. We better get over there, now. If he gets to Rebecca before Jayne does… or if Jayne found him and…"

She swallowed and squeezed her eyes shut, giving her head a cleansing shake. If the shifter had gone after her stepsister… that was a thought she simply refused to consider.

"All right," she said, taking control. "Let's go."

She led the way out of the creepy sewer lair, holding both her pistol and flashlight at the ready. The boys followed closely behind her, discussing the shifter.

"It was weird too," Sam was saying as they picked their way through the tunnels. "He didn't just look like you, Dean, he _was_ you. Or, he was becoming you. He was downloading thoughts, memories…"

"What, like a Vulcan mind meld?" Dean interjected.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised you're making a Star Trek reference?"

"I'm thinking that's why he doesn't just kill us," Sam went on as though the other two hadn't spoken.

"Maybe he needs to keep us alive," Dean agreed. "Psychic connection."

"Well, great," Lyn said from two steps ahead of them. "That's… just creepy."

She rounded a corner and found the grate she'd climbed through to get down to the sewer. "All right, here we are," she announced.

"We need to call the police," Sam said as they climbed up towards the exit.

"What are you, crazy?" Dean demanded. "You're going to put an APB out on me?"

Sam shrugged. "Sorry."

"I already called the police," Lynn announced matter-of-factly.

She had reached the surface and was now climbing out of the manhole. Dean and Sam scrambled quickly out of their escape hatch at her announcement, staring up at her incredulously. "You what?" Dean asked.

Lynn shrugged. "I don't know, I just… I had a bad feeling about all this, you know? When I was watching Jayne drive away. So I figured…"

"You'd call the cops?" Dean sounded almost mocking in his incredulity. "Since when does calling in the cops help anybody?"

"Well, it sounded like a good idea at the time!"

"Wait," Sam intervened. "Drove? Jayne drove to Becky's?"

Lynn nodded. "Yeah."

Sam sighed. "And I'll bet the Impala is gone too."

Lynn looked down at the street almost sheepishly. "Uh… yeah. It's gone."

"Great!" Dean practically exploded. "We're never going to get there in time!"

"Well, it's not my fault!" Lynn snapped. "I didn't steal your car!"

"No," Sam agreed. "That was the shifter." He sighed heavily. "We need to get to Becky's."

The three of them tore down the streets of St. Louis, headed for Becky's house. They'd been half walking, half jogging for nearly ten minutes when they ran past an electronics store with several TVs in the front window. Lynn would have jogged right on by… if the TVs hadn't been showing a hand-drawn picture of Dean's face.

She stopped, her jaw falling open. "Uh… guys?" she called.

The two brothers slowed down, looking back at her over their shoulders. Slowly, they returned to her side and checked out the display window as well.

"Her attacker was a white male," the newscaster was saying as they stared at the drawing. "Approximately 24 to 30 years of age. Police said…"

"Man," Dean practically whined. "That's not even a good picture."

"It's not?" Lynn asked skeptically.

"It's good enough," Sam said, glancing around them nervously, and Lynn agreed with him wholeheartedly. "Come on."

The three of them ducked into the next alley they found. It was dark and smelly, steam rising from the sewer grates. Dean stumbled through a large puddle and cussed. Lynn jogged along behind the two brothers, both of which had legs twice as long as hers, carrying her heavy weapons bag.

Becky wasn't dead. That was good. But they hadn't caught the shifter. He was still at large, and he was wearing Dean's face. Lynn's stomach began to turn nervously. They hadn't mentioned another woman. They definitely hadn't mentioned a body. So what had happened to her stepsister?

"They said attempted murder," Sam offered. "At least we know…"

"I didn't kill her," Dean cut him off, irritable.

"We'll check on Rebecca in the morning," Sam went on. "See if she's all right."

Lynn listened to their conversation with only half an ear, digging her cell phone out of her jeans and dialing Jayne's number.

"Right. But first I'm going to find that handsome devil and kick the holy crap out of him!"

"We don't have any weapons, Dean!" Sam argued. "No silver bullets!"

Lynn swore as Jayne's voicemail picked up her call. She hung up and redialed her stepsister's number. As she waited, listening intently to the insistent ringing on the other end, she made a small attempt to enter into the brothers' conversation. They seemed to have forgotten she was there, and that she was packing. "Um, actually…"

Dean cut her off. "Sam, the guy's walking around with my face. It's a little personal, ok? I want to find him."

The brothers were silent for a moment. Lynn didn't bother to say anything to them, still listening to the ring of her sister's cell phone.

"Ok," Sam agreed. "Where do we start?"

"The sewers?"

"We have no weapons," Sam said again. "He took our guns. We need more."

Jayne's snarky voicemail message rang out on the other end. Lynn swore, hanging up her phone. "Mother fuck!"

Both boys stopped talking immediately and looked at her, their expressions incredulous.

"Jayne's not picking up her phone," she announced.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. "You think the shifter got her?" Sam asked.

Lynn sighed shakily, and nodded. "Yeah. I kind of do."

Dean gave his brother an almost triumphant look. "See? We got to find this guy, Sam."

"I know," Sam returned, his tone painfully patient. "But if we have no way to kill him when we find him…"

"I have weapons," Lynn interrupted. "See the big bag? Come on, guys. Get with the program."

Sam and Dean blinked at her. A small smirk developed on Dean's face. "She has a point."

"Still," Sam argued. "He was running from the police. Maybe he didn't take her. Maybe he just… knocked her out or something. She might still be by Becky's."

"I don't know whether that worries me or makes me feel better," Lynn murmured.

"The car," Dean said suddenly. "It's gone, so the shifter must have taken it. We have more weapons inside."

"You think he drove it to Becky's?" Sam asked.

"Maybe," Lynn said. "Even if he didn't, Jayne drove to Becky's. Janis might still be there."

"Who's Janis?" Sam asked, his face twisted up in confusion.

Dean and Lynn stared at him, shocked. "You don't know who Janis is?" Lynn asked incredulously.

"Wow," Dean added. "Where the hell have you been?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Great," he said sarcastically. "Let's just stand around in this alley and make fun of me. That's helping."

"Janis is the truck," Lynn replied.

Sam's confused frown reappeared. "She named the truck?"

"Yeah," Lynn said shortly. "She's weird. Now, can we just go? Either to Becky's or to the sewers or anywhere, as long as it's not just standing here in this alleyway while my stepsister is god knows where?"

"I vote Becky's," Dean spoke up. "The Impala's there, the truck's probably there, and that means more ammo." He paused, his fists clenching at his sides. "The thought of him driving my car!"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Can we focus?"

"It's killing me!"

"Let it go."

Dean sighed loudly. "Anyway, the ammo's at Becky's. And if Jayne's still around…"

"What do you think Lynn?" Sam asked.

She shrugged, and then sighed. "All right," she said. "Fine."

The three of them took off running again, heading towards Becky's. Lynn couldn't help but wonder if they'd made the right choice. Something told her that Jayne wasn't still there, and that the shifter had done a lot more than just 'knock her out or something.' As they ran, Lynn reached again for her cell phone and dialed Jayne's number once more.

* * *

Jayne blinked awake, struggling against the pounding ache in her head that kept trying to put her back to sleep. Slowly, forcing her eyes open, she dragged her head up off her chest and squinted at her surroundings.

It was dark. There were a few candles providing a dim light that failed to fully illuminate her surroundings. Wherever she was smelled musky and moist, and the ground underneath her was cool and damp.

Her hair was in her face. It had fallen out of the braid she always kept it in. Uncomfortable, she tried to shift her position, and that was how she found out her hands were tied behind her back and a rope was wrapped around her neck, fastening her to the cold metal pole behind her. The sound of trickling water echoed in her ears.

She was in the sewer.

Someone was humming nearby. She heard whoever it was moving things around, as though searching for something. Jayne tilted her head in the direction the humming was coming from and saw Dean, examining his knives.

Except it wasn't Dean. It was that damn shapeshifter.

He looked up from his knives, glancing over at her. "Someone's awake," he announced, chuckling. "Thought you were going to sleep all day, Goldilocks."

Jayne glared at him and cleared her throat. "Don't call me that."

"Who's going to make me stop?" he asked, snorting. "You?"

Jayne didn't say anything to that. The shifter looked at the knife in his hand one last time, and then lay it down on the table in front of him and made his way over to her.

"You almost killed me up there," the shifter announced. "You're a good shot. Kind of hurts my feelings."

"Wish I'd hurt more," Jayne replied, smirking at him.

"Watch your mouth," the shifter snapped, his face turning cold and stony. Jayne had seen that look on Dean's face before… right about the time she'd had Sam pinned up against the Chevy in Toledo. It was creepy, how difficult it was to tell the real Dean from this fake one. "You're lucky to be alive right now. I could have killed you. I thought about it."

"Then why didn't you?" she shot back.

He smirked again. "Because this seemed like a better idea. Thought it might be more fun."

"More fun?"

"Yeah, Goldilocks. You know, you're an attractive woman. Maybe not as pleasantly proportioned as your little sis, but…"

"Shut up," Jayne snapped.

The shapeshifter looked taken aback – but only for a moment. The smirk instantly reappeared on his face. "Oh. You don't like that, do you? That I've noticed your sister?"

"Shut up," she said again.

"Jealous, maybe? Nah, that isn't it. Overprotective. You don't like the idea of me and your sister? You don't want me to…."

"Stay the fuck away from her," Jayne growled.

"See, now that's adorable," the shifter grinned. "The way you try and take care of your little sister? I mean, we both know you can't. You couldn't take care of your brother, so what makes you think…"

"I'm going to kill you, you know," Jayne interrupted him. "Sooner or later, I'm going to get out of here. And the first thing I'm going to do is track you down and put a silver bullet in your heart. Sound good?"

The shifter stared at her a moment. Then he smirked. "You're not going to kill me, sweetheart. You're never going to get the chance."

She glowered at him. The shifter went on, still smirking. "But don't worry, Goldilocks. I'm not going to kill you just yet. First, I'm going to pop by and check on that sister of yours. Maybe wearing your face?"

"I mean it," she growled. "Stay away from her."

"Oh, you mean it? That's touching." The shifter scrunched up his face in a mock-thoughtful expression. "Or maybe, I'll just go as is. I mean, Dean always did think your stepsister was… how'd he put it? Oh, yeah. A Puerto Rican Sex Goddess."

Jayne glared at the shifter murderously, but it didn't seem to matter. "In the meantime, I can't have you escaping like your buddies did, can I?"

Up until this point, Jayne hadn't felt particularly terrified. Angry, yes, and uncomfortable, definitely, but afraid? Not exactly. Now, however, her stomach turned with brief fear as the shifter reached for one of his knives.

The heavy hilt smashed into the side of her skull, and once again, Jayne was unconscious.

* * *

Sam raced up the street around the corner from Becky's house, his lungs burning. Beside him, his brother ran just as hard. Lynn was chugging along behind them.

"Janis," he heard her puff at his back. The three of them slowed to a stop, panting. Lynn waved at the beat up gray truck on the side of the road. "Janis is still here."

Dean nodded, taking several deep breaths. "That's good, right?"

Lynn shook her head. "I don't really know."

"We should check it out," Sam said.

The other two nodded, and followed him over to Jayne Gibson's old pickup. Sam shone his flashlight into the driver's side window. The purple carrying case Lynn used when hauling around her laptop was tucked halfway under the bench seat, and there was an empty can that had once held some sort of disgusting energy drink in the cup-holder, just under the radio.

But that was it. Behind him, he heard Lynn thumping around in the bed of the pickup. "Her stuff's gone," she announced. "Damn it."

She sounded more worried than Sam had ever heard her sound before. Lynn always managed to come off as concerned or sympathetic about civilians when they hunted together. But tonight was different. The concern was real. In fact, it bordered on hysteria.

She stood in the bed of the truck, chewing on her lower lip, her dark brown eyes roving over every crevice in the bed liner. Sam knew she was upset. He could almost feel it.

He reached up for her hand. "Here," he said softly. "Let me help you out of there."

Lynn looked startled by the gesture. Still chewing her lip, she stared down at his proffered hand with wide eyes. Then she bent over the truck bed, grasping the side, and vaulted onto the street below.

Sam blinked, a slight chuckle escaping his throat. "Guess you didn't want my help."

"I don't know why you think I need it," she snapped. "You never seem to need mine."

Sam blinked again, taken back. He had no idea how to respond – he wasn't even sure what she was talking about. But before they could get into it, Dean spoke up from the other side of the truck.

"I don't see anything," he said. "No Jayne, no tracks. Nothing. Maybe we should go around the front."

Lynn looked away from Sam, training her eyes on the ground. Sam took a deep breath, moving on. "All right. Let's go."

The three of them crept along the side of the house and turned the corner. There, parked in front of Becky's house, was the Impala.

"There she is," Dean exclaimed happily. "Finally, something went right tonight."

Sam wasn't even surprised when the cop car pulled around the corner and drove past them. He was even less surprised when the cop driving the car slammed on the brakes and hit the lights.

"Shit," Dean swore beside him. The three of them took off running back the way they came…

…Only to find a second cop car at the other end of the street. The second car's lights flashed and the siren blared once.

Sam knew they were screwed. His older brother was already heading for the dumpster pressed up against the fence directly beside them, but Sam knew the cops would just keep chasing them.

"This way!" Dean was hollering.

"You two go!" Sam ordered, holding his ground. "I'll hold them off."

"What?" Lynn exclaimed.

"What are you talking about?" Dean added. "They'll catch you!"

"Look, they can't hold me!" Sam replied. "Just go! I'll meet you at Rebecca's!"

Both Dean and Lynn hesitated.

"Go!" Sam shouted.

Dean ran for it. He leapt on top of the dumpster and vaulted over the fence. Lynn was right behind him, making successful leaps both onto the dumpster and over the fence… something Sam wouldn't have thought possible due to the shortness of her legs. She never failed to surprise him.

"Stay out of the sewers alone!" he called after them.

When there was no response, Sam couldn't help but add, "I mean it!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Dean replied from the other side of the fence. That was the last he heard from either his brother or from Lynn, other than their hurrying footsteps against the wet pavement as they ran away.

He took a deep breath, holding up his hands in surrender, and stepped towards the cops that were quickly milling around the alleyway and pointing their guns at him. "Don't move!" one of them ordered.

Sam sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Dean and Lynn tore down the streets, lungs bursting and leg muscles burning, the sound of sirens and hollering police officers ringing in their ears. Blue lights reflected off the shop window across the street, signaling the approach of a cop car from around the corner.

Lynn found herself tripping down a dark, damp alleyway as Dean ducked inside, yanking her along by the arm. He dragged her behind a large, rusty, and extremely smelly dumpster.

"Gross," Lynn whispered, making a face at the trash receptacle in front her. "You know what part of this job I hate the most? The parts involving smelly, icky places. Like rat-infested sewers. Or the crevices behind horrible, stinky, oozing dumpsters."

"You and me both," Dean returned, glancing around nervously. "Lynn, I think we might be screwed."

"Yeah," she sighed as the sounds of their followers grew closer. "We're not going to get out of this unscathed. They are so going to find us."

Dean sighed as well, knocking the back of his head against the brick wall behind him. "Damn it."

They were quiet for a moment, listening for the cops. "Ok," Lynn said finally. "I have a plan."

"Lay it on me."

"I'm going to go out there," she said. "And surrender. You are going to run away. Fast. And not get caught."

Dean gave her an incredulous look. "What?!"

"Hey, if they can't hold Sam, they certainly can't hold me," Lynn retorted. "I've never even met Becky! She doesn't know I exist!"

Dean continued staring at her incredulously. Lynn ignored him. "Now, this will only work if you can get out of here. Can you get out of here without getting caught?"

He looked around the alleyway, contemplating any possible escape routes. "Uh… maybe. I guess so, if you're going to be the distraction."

"All right." Lynn took a deep breath, steeling herself. Then she shrugged her bag off her shoulders, pulled her pistol from her waistband, and slipped it inside the small duffel. Holding it out towards Dean, she said, "Take this."

He blinked at her. "You're giving me your bag?"

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Um, duh? I'm sure as hell not going to surrender to the police carrying a sack full of pistols, silver bullets, and weird-looking knives. I enjoy being a free woman."

Dean shouldered the bag. "All right, whatever."

"Oh," Lynn turned to him and pointed her finger directly in his face, her eyes steely and threatening. "Do _not_ lose my Glock."

She was quite amused to see Dean's jaw drop. "You carry a Glock?" he repeated incredulously.

"You sound surprised."

Dean stared at her for a second. "What?" she snapped.

"Nothing," he replied, grinning. "That's just, uh… really hot."

She blushed in spite of herself. "Would you get the fuck out of here already?"

The cops were getting closer and closer. One of the cars had pulled over and she could see the lights flashing against the opposite wall. Dean began to creep away towards the back end of the alleyway. "Hey," she whispered after him.

He stopped, glancing over his shoulder.

"Find Jaynie, ok?" she asked.

He nodded. "I was planning on it."

Dean disappeared into the shadows. Lynn took a deep breath, straightened her sweater, and stepped out from behind the dumpster.

Heavy footsteps that could only be made by tough-soled cop shoes echoed in the street as the officers came nearer to her hiding place. Lynn took another deep breath, held up her hands and stepped out of the alley.

Instantly, all guns were upon her. Lynn suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Stupid Dean and his stupid being wanted for murder. This whole night was just… stupid.

* * *

Sam sat in the interrogation room at the police station, drumming his fingers impatiently on the Formica tabletop in front of him. He let out a heavy sigh through pursed lips, glancing around the room with some mild anxiety.

The good news was that they hadn't seen fit to handcuff him to the table. The bad news was that he'd been sitting in this room since they brought him in and no one had bothered to say two words to him. They hadn't asked him a single question. He'd been sitting in the room alone for what felt like eternity.

His thoughts turned to Lynn and Dean. He hoped they'd made it away all right. If the cops caught Dean, he was as good as facing the death penalty. As for Lynn… well, they had nothing on her as of yet. But if they caught her hauling around that huge grab bag of weaponry…? Well, she was screwed.

Was he screwed? Sam couldn't think what they might have on him. True, he was the brother of the accused, but he hadn't been anywhere near Becky's house at the time of the crime. They had nothing on him. No way to prove he'd been involved.

No, the most they could do at this point, he attempted to reassure himself, was lock him up in the interrogation room, put a little pressure on him, and try to get him to spill the goods on his armed and dangerous brother, who was still at large.

Even if they did manage to get out of this, he and Dean were so screwed, it wasn't even funny. A lifetime of hiding, fake I.D.s, constant running away, constant fear every time they saw a cop…

All right, he thought, a small amused smile appearing on his face. So, not that much different than the life they lived now.

The door to the interrogation room clicked open and two cops stepped in. Sam looked up almost hopefully at their entrance, thinking that maybe now they were going to get somewhere. The sooner they started throwing their weight around and asking questions, the sooner he got to get the hell out of here.

Sam's jaw dropped. The two cops escorted a third person into the room… a short, black haired woman in handcuffs.

Crap.

They set her at the table, muttered something about keeping one another company, and then left the two of them alone in the interrogation room.

Sam stared at the woman incredulously. She gave him a half hearted grin.

"Hey, Sam."

"Lynn," he said in a low voice. "What the hell are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "Cops caught up to us. Dean took off, and I bit the bullet… so to speak. I'm pretty sure he got away."

Sam suddenly realized how intensely freaked out his expression must have seemed. Lynn had asserted all too quickly her certainty that Dean was still a free man. He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "Great," he grumbled.

"We probably shouldn't talk too much about… well, stuff," Lynn went on. "I overheard the pudgy one talking and he mentioned something about putting us in the same room, hoping we'll reveal some information while we're sitting here. I say we don't give them the satisfaction."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

They lapsed into an uneasy silence. Sam glanced around the room again, not really sure what he was looking for. Checking for cameras, maybe? Speakers, two-way mirrors? He sighed and went back to drumming his fingers on the table.

Lynn held her handcuffed wrists up to her face and began inspecting her nails. Sam squinted up at the ceiling of the interrogation room for a few moments, trying to think of something to say. The silence was enough to make him nuts.

"So, uh… you find any leads on Jayne?" he asked finally.

Lynn paused in her nail examining to give him an incredulous look. "Well, seeing as we were really preoccupied with the whole running madly through the streets of St. Louis trying to escape the cops… uh, no. I'd say we didn't."

Sam forced a small chuckle. "Right. Sorry."

They fell quiet again. Lynn returned her dark eyes to her fingernails, and Sam looked back up at the ceiling. Just when he began to think he couldn't take anymore, Lynn spoke.

"Sam, I'm sorry."

He looked at her, surprised. "What for?"

"For biting your head off back at Becky's."

Sam nodded, trying for a smile. "Oh. That's ok. I mean, I didn't really understand, but…"

"It's just that you really pissed me off back in the sewer when you were acting all macho and like you didn't need my help," Lynn interrupted him. "That, and I'm really worried about Jayne. And when I stress, I turn into a monster bitch."

Sam blinked. "Oh," was the only reply he could come up with.

Lynn gave him a forced smile. "So… sorry."

He gave her a forced smile of his own. "Don't worry about it."

There was another long painful silence. "So…" Lynn said after a few moments. "How exactly are we planning on getting out of this?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, I'd put in a call to Becky, but…"

"Right," Lynn agreed. She thought for a moment. "Well, if Dean finds Jayne, she can probably pull off the whole posting bail thing. It's not like she's wanted for anything. Of course, this plan is contingent on my stepsister still being alive, so…"

She trailed off and focused her eyes on the tabletop. "Hey," Sam said. "I'm sure she's fine."

"Oh, are you?" Lynn snapped.

Sam blinked. "I'm sorry," Lynn said automatically. "That was uncalled for."

"It's all right," Sam said softly, now staring at the tabletop as well.

They were quiet again. "We won't be here too long," Sam offered. "They have nothing on us, so they can't keep us longer than forty-eight hours."

"Forty-eight hours!" Lynn exclaimed. "But Jaynie…"

"I know," Sam said softly. "I'm sorry."

She fell back against the chair, her eyes wide open and suddenly very wet. "Hey," Sam said. "I'm sure she's fine. I mean, it's Jayne. She threw me into a car. Hell, she punched Dean in the face and knocked him down. She's a tough girl. If anyone can handle this, it's her."

Lynn nodded numbly.

Silence descended on the small room once again. Lynn swallowed and blinked, mustering up a smile that Sam could tell she didn't mean. "Dean's out there," she said softly. "And he's… tough too. So… I mean we know where the lair is, and… well, he promised he'd find her. And I'm sure if anyone can find her, it's your brother."

Sam nodded encouragingly – for about half a second. Then the full impact of her words hit him. "What?" he exploded as quietly as he could.

Lynn looked taken aback. Her eyes widened as she stared at his expression – an expression Sam was sure was furious. "Dean promised he would…"

"I heard what you said," Sam interrupted her, his voice a frantic whisper. "But he can't go in the sewer alone!"

Lynn snorted and rolled her eyes. "Sam, I'm sorry, but if you expected Dean to sit by and idly twiddle his thumbs while we're on lockdown for forty-eight hours… then I'm going to have to ask if you've ever met your brother."

Sam stared at her for a moment, and then sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "I guess I can't argue with that."

* * *


	21. Bullets and Burgers

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to Dean Rocks My World, angeleyenc, Nelle07, Padme 4000, legrowl, ThreeMoons, and Little Rock'n'Roll Queen for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 21: Bullets and Burgers

The next morning dawned bright and relatively warm. Dean Winchester parked his Impala near the downtown green, locking the car doors for once. He didn't trust anyone in this city to leave his baby alone.

He stepped around to the back of the car and popped the trunk. Lynn's bag of weapons was sitting back there, along with his own collection. If he'd been able to go hunting for Jayne last night, he would have used Lynn's stuff, but the city had been crawling with cops. He'd ended up having to wait until morning, and by that point figured he might as well go get his car back and use his own guns. He preferred his own guns.

But now he was up and awake and loading a couple of pistols with silver bullets. Stuffing one of the pistols into the back of his jeans, he dug a flashlight out of Lynn's bag. He felt momentarily guilty about his plan to head off into the sewer alone. Sam would be pissed when he found out about it.

But Jayne needed help, and he had promised Lynn, after all. And Dean never broke a promise to a lady… er, at least not when it was important.

"I'm sorry, Sam," he muttered, chuckling slightly. "You know me. I just can't wait."

He slammed the trunk shut and headed towards the park. It was early in the morning, so there were very few people hanging around, making it fairly easy to open the sewer grate and climb inside without being noticed.

After making his way down the first few rungs on the manhole ladder, Dean pulled the cover back over the sewer entrance from below, and then climbed cautiously down the remaining steps. He hit the ground, whipped out his flashlight, and turned it on, shining the light in both directions. He was not going to let that freak catch him off guard again.

He crept quietly along the tunnels, trying to avoid the deeper puddles as well as contact with the damp, moldy walls. Soon, he began seeing the piles of skin he'd encountered the last time. Gripping his pistol tighter, Dean followed the trail of skin down through the sewers the same way he had gone when he'd been hunting the shifter before. Dean was surprised to discover he was actually a little nervous heading down there on his own. He couldn't help thinking that this was where the shifter had caught up to him last time. About every ten seconds, he caught himself glancing warily over his shoulder.

But nothing happened. No shapeshifter materialized. Dean made it all the way down through the tunnels, past countless piles of grossness, and finally reached the entrance to the shifter's lair.

At first glance, there was nothing much to see. The same candles and the same freaky things the shifter owned were still around, but the room appeared to be empty. He shined his light around the chamber cautiously, making sure he was alone, before allowing himself to call out softly, "Jayne?"

He didn't hear anything respond. Dean made his way further into the lair and began looking for blanket-covered lumps, the way Lynn had found him and Sam the night before. "Hey, Goldilocks, you in here?" he asked.

Nothing.

Dean glanced around the room slowly. His eyes finally settled on a gray, blanket covered lump in the center of the room, up against the pole Sam had been tied to the night before.

He jogged over to the lump and got on his knees, pulling the blanket down. Jayne sat against the pole, her head hanging down on her chest, completely out of it.

Dean pushed back her loose blonde hair, trying to see her face. It had fallen from its usual braid and was flowing unrestrained down around her stomach. He had never before realized just how long it was.

She was also missing the flannel shirt she'd had on the day before. Instead, she was wearing only a white tank top. It wasn't super tight, but it was nowhere near as baggy as her usual flannel, and Dean couldn't help but notice that she had some very nice curves.

If she hadn't been unconscious and bruised, he might even say she looked good.

Dean took hold of her chin and tilted her face towards him, tapping her cheek with his other hand. "Jayne," he said gruffly, giving her a mild shake. "Jayne? Come on, time to get up."

She didn't respond. He tapped her face a little harder. "Jayne! Come on, Goldilocks! Wake up!"

Slowly, she started to come around. She blinked a few times, trying to lift her head. Dean helped her sit up straighter, still tapping her face. "Come on, Jayne, that's it."

Finally, she seemed to wake up. She blinked once more, focusing on her surroundings. When she saw his face, however, she jerked back away from him, and gave him the nastiest glare he'd been given in a long time.

"Jayne?" he asked, reaching for her again.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, her voice hoarse and weak.

He blinked. "Whoa. It's me," he said, holding his hands up. "Calm down."

She snorted. Clearly, she wasn't buying that line.

"Seriously, Jayne," he said as soothingly as he knew how to be. "It's me. Dean. Just Dean. I'm the real deal, all right? Now you've got to let me get you out of here, because I promised your stepsister I was going to. And if I come out of this sewer empty handed, I'm willing to bet she'll shoot me right in the ass."

Jayne continued to stare at him distrustfully, but eventually nodded, grudgingly accepting his plea. She held still as he cut through the ropes binding her wrists and her neck.

When she was free, she sat silently, rubbing her wrists. Dean turned to look around again, making sure they were still alone. Suddenly, a sharp pain ripped through his left hand.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, whipping his head around to examine his injured hand. There was an ugly red cut just under his knuckles.

"Damn it, woman!" he said, seeing the small knife Jayne was holding in her hand. "What the hell?"

She shrugged, sliding the knife back in her boot. "Silver knife."

"I said it was really me!"

"And I'm supposed to just take your word for it?"

Dean sighed. "All right, fine. But now you know it's… Hey!"

She'd grabbed the flashlight he'd abandoned on the ground and shone it directly in his face. Dean blinked, rubbing his now burning eyes. "What the fuck?" he thundered.

"Be quiet Dean," she said, letting the flashlight fall from her fingers. Her voice was tired. "You don't want to let the shifter know you're down here."

He glared at her. "Are you satisfied now?" he asked angrily. "No retinal reaction to light? I'm Dean, you're convinced, and there won't be any more torture?"

Jayne gave him a small smile. "Sure," she croaked unconvincingly.

He continued to glare at her. "I am so contemplating tying your ass back to that pole and leaving you in this sewer."

She snorted. "Right. And then my stepsister shoots you. Good plan."

Dean rolled his eyes and gathered up his stuff. "Are you all right?" he asked her. "Can you stand and everything?"

Jayne nodded. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

Dean wasn't entirely sure he believed her. Her skin was always rather pale, but now her face seemed whiter than usual. There was an ugly bruise on her right temple and she had purple circles under her eyes. Dean got to his feet and watched her carefully as she struggled up on hers.

She stumbled backward into the pole. Dean reached for her automatically, gripping her waist. "Whoa there, Goldilocks," he said. "You sure you're all right?"

She nodded. "I'll be fine," she murmured again. "I just… give me a second."

He nodded back, his hands still on her waist. It was tiny, much tinier than he had expected it to be. His hands felt enormous against her small frame. He had never realized how small she was. Her height and the baggy clothes she wore hid her slender body.

Not that she didn't have decent curves. Oh no, they were more than decent. Dean swallowed hard. With her hair down and the flannel gone, Jayne was… well, there was no other word for it. Jayne was hot.

"Dean," she said suddenly.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

"You can let go now."

Dean was startled. He looked down at his hands, realizing he was still holding onto her waist. "Sorry," he said hastily, quickly letting go.

Jayne rested against the pole for a moment. Dean looked around the shifter's lair again, pretending not to feel awkward. The beam of his flashlight fell onto one of the tables the shifter had set up around his little nest. Draped over the corner was the old brown flannel that Jayne usually wore. Dean grabbed it.

"Here," he said, holding out the shirt.

At the sight of her shirt, Jayne's whole face lit up. Dean almost laughed. "Thanks," she smiled, taking the shirt and putting it on. "It's my favorite. I'd have been pissed."

He smiled back. "Glad to help."

Jayne buttoned up the front of her shirt and Dean frowned. It was too bad, really. She was way too hot to cover up like that. She should be wearing… well, something like…

Nah, he decided, discarding several taste-questionable outfits that had suddenly flitted through his mind. Anything but jeans and flannel would just be plain unnatural on her. She was fine the way she was.

Dean gave his head a little shake, clearing his thoughts. That was enough of that. This was Jayne he was thinking about. _Jayne_. The gruff and grumpy, less than talkative tomboy who really only spoke to him when she had something snarky to say. Thinking she was hot was just weird.

"What happened?" she asked him. "With you and Sam? Lynn and I thought…"

"Shifter caught us," he explained. "Lynn got us out of here. Then we went looking for you, but there was this whole thing with the cops…"

"The cops?"

"Yeah," Dean smirked. "I'm currently wanted for the attempted murder of Rebecca Warren."

Comprehension flickered across her face. "Oh, right. I wondered if they'd seen who the shifter was wearing when they busted into Rebecca's. The girl all right?"

Dean nodded. "Far as I know. She's not dead, anyway."

"Where are Sam and Lynn?"

"Jail."

Jayne gave him an incredulous look.

Dean shrugged. "The cops nearly caught us outside Becky's. They took the fall. Figured the police wouldn't have anything on them."

Jayne nodded. "What about you?" Dean asked. "How'd you end up in the sewer?"

"Went to head off the shifter at Becky's," she replied. "Nearly got him too. But he's fast, man. Got the drop on me. Kicked me in the head. I woke up down here." Jayne took a deep breath, shaking her head. "Actually, I'm glad to hear that Lynn's in jail," she went on. "She'll be safer there. That sick bastard said something about going after her."

Dean shook his head. "Even if she's out of jail by now, she's with Sam," he reassured her. "Sam won't let that thing anywhere near her."

"He better not."

They lapsed into silence. "Think you can make it?" Dean asked after a while.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'll be ok."

"You sure? Cause I can…"

"I swear, if you finish that sentence by suggesting you carry me, I will kill you," Jayne interrupted fiercely. "I still haven't forgiven you for the last time you did that."

"Well, excuse me for trying to help."

"You are so _not_ excused."

Dean laughed. "All right, all right. You sure you're ok? We should probably head out of here."

Jayne nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

The two of them made their way towards the exit, Dean walking a few inches behind Jayne, keeping a careful watch on the way she moved. He knew she said she was fine, but… frankly, he didn't believe her.

Suddenly, she stopped. Dean ran into her and nearly knocked her over. There was a brief moment of struggle as she toppled forwards and he grabbed her around the waist, trying to hold her up and catch his own balance as well. Jayne tried to twist out of his grasp, but he held onto her, grabbing the wall to steady himself. Finally, when both of them stood on steady feet, he let go of her. Jayne gave him a pissed off shove.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" she demanded. "Didn't you take Driver's Ed? Two second rule!"

He frowned at her disbelievingly. "We're _walking_, you psycho!"

"You were still too close!"

"Well, you shouldn't just stop like that!"

"I thought I saw something move!"

"And you _stop_?"

A small, weak, muffled little moan made both of them shut up. Dean looked in the direction the tiny sound had come from and saw a blanket covered lump just around the corner of the entrance to the lair. No wonder he hadn't seen it before. Quickly, he ran to help whoever else was chained up in the sewer. Jayne followed.

Dean knelt down before the lump and tugged the blanket off. Sitting on the ground in front of him, bond and bruised and terrified, was Rebecca Warren.

"Rebecca?" he asked.

The girl nodded, visibly shaken. Dean began untying her. "What happened?" he demanded.

"I don't know," she replied, her voice trembling. "I was walking home and suddenly everything just went white. I woke up down here just in time to see that… that _thing_ turn into me."

Her eyes darted frantically from Dean to Jayne. "How is that even possible?"

"Ok, ok, it's all right," Dean said soothingly. "Can you walk?"

She nodded.

Dean looked up at Jayne. "Shit," he said. "Lynn and Sam were supposed to meet me at her place."

Becky looked up at him, her eyes wide. Jayne's jaw set itself in a firm, grim line. "We have to go," Dean said, looking over at Rebecca. "You sure you're all right?"

Becky nodded again. Dean helped her onto her feet. She wavered for a second, but then seemed fine. Dean nodded at the two women to go on ahead of him, and then gathered up his flashlight and his pistols.

Outside the lair and in the tunnels, Dean pulled one pistol from his waistband and slid it into Jayne's hand. She looked up, surprised. "Thanks," she murmured.

He nodded. "Just don't get confused and shoot me."

Jayne glowered at him.

The three of them walked towards the exit, Dean in the rear, softly calling out directions. "You know," Jayne murmured as they reached the ladder to the surface. "This is just typical."

Dean frowned. "What is?"

"This," she repeated. "I try to do Lynn a solid, come to St. Louis so she can spend more time with her latest infatuation, and you know what happens? I get kicked in the head, kidnapped, and tied up in a sewer. Typical. Just freaking typical."

"Tell me about it," Dean agreed. "I agree to come out here and help Sam's pal, even when I didn't believe this was our kind of problem, just to be nice to my little brother. Now there's a psychotic shapeshifter out there wearing my face, and I've been framed for murder."

Jayne snorted. "Huh," she said. "I guess that makes us even."

He laughed. "Yeah. We're both bitches."

* * *

Lynn sat on the incredibly soft, satiny couch in Becky's unbelievably posh living room and clenched her beer tightly in her hands, watching Sam and Becky as they sat on the couch opposite her.

Sat close. Too close.

It was her own fault, she thought, as she only half listened to Sam's explanation of why Dean was innocent and what had really gone down in Becky's big ass mansion of a house the night before. She had pushed Sam away. She had gotten all jealous and insecure about Becky and anxious and scared about Jayne and now Sam didn't know how to handle her and he wanted to pretend he'd never met her.

Becky, for her part, was listening carefully to Sam's story, but she wasn't buying it straight off. "So, you want me to believe that the story Dean fed me last night before he… well, before everything… that story was true? And I wasn't talking to Dean, I was talking to the very same creature you're hunting?"

Sam nodded. "Um… yeah. That's what I want you to believe."

Becky shook her head. She looked over at Lynn. "And you've been helping him?" she asked. "You and this… Jayne girl? The one who disappeared trying to save me last night?"

Lynn nodded too. "Yep," she replied. And then, because she was worried about Jayne and because she was irritated by Becky, she added rather crossly, "And that Jayne girl happens to be my stepsister."

Becky was gracious about the snipe. She smiled understandingly at Lynn and nodded. "Right. I'm sorry."

Lynn shrugged and dug up a smile for the blonde. When Becky returned her gaze to Sam, Lynn's smile instantly vanished and she returned to eyeing the college undergrad suspiciously.

Man, she wanted to hate this girl. Why did Becky have to be so… so… so freaking nice?

Becky shook her head, crossing the room and heading into the kitchen. "So, you believe me?" Sam asked hopefully.

"I don't know, Sam," Becky returned. "It's a lot to take in. And it sounds completely insane."

Sam chuckled ruefully. "Yeah," he agreed, draining his beer. "Welcome to my life."

Lynn glared at both of them, drinking heavily form her own beer. Becky pulled another bottle from the fridge and made her way back towards the living room.

"So say the shapeshifter is real," she said. "By the way, you both know you're crazy. But say it is real."

She stopped behind Sam and took his empty beer bottle, placing the new one in his hand.

"How do you stop it?" she asked.

Sam examined the label on the bottle. "Silver bullet to the heart," he replied.

Becky smirked. "You _are_ crazy."

And then, before Lynn had time to react, Becky took the empty bottle and smashed it into Sam's skull. Sam slumped to the side and sprawled out unconscious on the sofa. Becky's blue eyes flashed silver.

"You!" Lynn exclaimed, leaping to her feet.

"Me!" the thing that looked like Becky returned mockingly.

Lynn gripped the neck of her beer bottle tightly, preparing to strike. The shifter came around the couch, stretching Becky's long legs like some sort of predatory cat. Lynn mimicked the creature's actions, heading around the other side of the sofa. The two women circled the couch, eyeing one another warily.

"Lynn, Lynn, Lynn," the shifter said. "I don't think you like me very much."

"What gave me away?" Lynn quipped.

The shifter smirked. "Oh, I don't know. The green-with-jealousy looks you give me every time I come near Sammy?"

Lynn narrowed her eyes. "By the way," the shifter went on, still smirking and circling. "Jayne says hi."

That was when Lynn snapped. She lunged over the couch, narrowly missing stepping on Sam, and grabbed the shifter by the neck. The two of them hit the ground and started struggling against one another, rolling around on the soft beige carpet.

It was all out girl-war – which surprised Lynn, seeing as she was up against a shapeshifter who in all actuality was probably a guy. The shifter struggled underneath her, grabbing hold of her wrists. Lynn scratched at the shifter's face, and twisted her hand in its long blonde hair. The shifter let out a horrible screech as Lynn pulled on its long locks. The blonde hair gave way in her hand, and Lynn found herself clutching a hunk of hair and skin that had torn loose from the shifter's scalp.

"Ew!" she exclaimed, repulsed.

The shifter threw its weight into her and Lynn tumbled backwards into the sofa. Suddenly, the thing that looked like Rebecca Warren was on top of her, pinning her to the floor. Lynn kicked and struggled underneath the shapeshifter to no avail. She clawed the Becky look-alike in the face, and the shifter's grip momentarily loosened. Lynn immediately wrapped one leg around the other girl's waist and threw her to the ground, climbing on top of her. She grabbed the shifter's hair again, this time smashing her skull into the carpet instead of yanking on the long blonde locks. Then she started punching the shifter in the face.

"Where is my stepsister?!" she demanded. "Where? Where? Where?"

Each shout of "Where?" was punctuated with a fist to the face. Suddenly, the shifter grabbed one of their abandoned beer bottles off the ground and propelled it into Lynn's head. Lynn crumpled to the side, releasing the shifter from her fists. The shifter rolled over, grabbed Lynn's black hair, pulled, and then slammed her face into the ground.

Lynn blinked once. The room went fuzzy. And then she was unconscious.

* * *

Sam blinked awake, his head pounding. He was in a brightly lit room that was unfortunately both painted and carpeted in a blinding shade of white. He turned his head side to side, trying to figure out exactly where the hell he'd ended up.

It seemed like he was still in Becky's house, in some sort of rec room. His hands were bound in front of his chest and he was laying on the floor, beside a pool table. In the corner, her wrists bound as well, was Lynn. She looked unconscious.

Standing over him was Dean… at least, it looked like Dean. Sam didn't need psychic powers to know it was actually the shapeshifter. He stood in front of the pool table, pulling ropes, knives, and other nasty, assorted objects out of a bag.

The shifter looked over at him. "Finally," was all he said.

"What did you do to her?" Sam demanded.

The shifter glanced at Lynn and snorted. "What did _I_ do to _her_? More like what did _she_ do to _me_? Your girlfriend's a bad ass bitch, you know that?" He grinned down at the large wicked looking knife in his hand, admiring the blade. "I'm sure going to enjoy slicing her up."

Sam glared at him. "What are you going to do to us?"

"I'm not going to do anything. But Dean will."

"They'll never catch him," Sam spoke up quickly.

"Oh, it doesn't matter," the shifter replied. "Murder in the first? His own brother? He'll be hunted the rest of his life."

The shapeshifter set down the knife and headed over to the sleek black bar directly behind Sam's head, positioned under a framed pair of red and white gym shorts. "Must say, I'm going to be sorry to lose this skin though," he announced, pouring himself a drink. "You're brother's got a lot of good qualities. You should appreciate him more than you do."

He threw back the drink. "Cheers."

The shifter returned to the pool table, setting the now half empty glass on the green felt surface. He reached into the bag sitting on the table and pulled out another knife, slamming it into the wooden frame of the pool table. The blade stuck fast in the wood. Smirking at Sam, the shifter returned to the bag.

Sam glanced around him. Lynn was still out of it, so there was no help from that department. But the shifter was now preoccupied with his bag. Sam's eyes fell on the knife.

He took a chance. Bending his knees, Sam drew back and kicked the shifter viciously in the legs. The creature stumbled to the side, tripping halfway across the room, and then landing in a heap on the floor. Sam jumped up on his knees, throwing his wrists over the sharp edge of the knife, and attempted to saw through the rope tying his hands together.

The rope ripped loose just as the shifter struggled to his feet. Sam wrenched the knife out of the pool table as the thing that looked like his brother charged him. He brought the knife up by his face and attempted to propel it into the shifter's chest. The shifter grabbed his wrist, locking his arm in place. They struggled against one another, neither one of them able to outmatch the other. Finally, the shifter managed to knock the knife away and flip Sam over, sending him tumbling towards the opposite end of the room.

"You son of a bitch," the shifter snarled, advancing on him.

Sam leapt to his feet. The two men exchanged blow after blow, bloodying one another's faces. Sam nearly got his opponent over the pool table, but the shifter delivered a sickening blow to his stomach, and then tossed him backwards into a shelf built into the wall. The shelves and their contents came crashing down around Sam as he tumbled to the floor.

The shifter grabbed hold of a pool cue and advanced on Sam's crumpled body. "Even when we were kids, I always kicked your ass," the shifter announced.

Suddenly, there was a loud screech. Sam looked up, startled, as Lynn, who he had previously thought unconscious, suddenly threw herself at the shifter from behind, the long forgotten knife in her hand. She must have snatched up the abandoned weapon and cut herself loose while he and the creature were too busy fist-fighting to notice. The shifter tried to shake her off, but Lynn, who had leapt onto his back and was gripping his neck with all her might, held on fast, trying to stab him in the chest. The shifter grabbed hold of her wrist, managing to stop the stabbing, but was unable to get her off his back.

Sam stumbled to his feet as the two of them struggled backwards across the room. Lynn tightened her grip on the shifter's neck as the shifter attempted to twist the arm holding the knife. She wrapped that arm around his neck too, nearly suffocating him. Gasping for breath, the shifter finally managed to crash forcefully into the dry bar. The sound of shattering glass filled the room as the shifter smashed Lynn backwards into the countless glasses and bottles situated on the countertop. Her grip on his neck finally loosened and the shifter grabbed hold of her, tossing her considerably smaller body onto the pool table.

The shifter ran at her, but Sam was more than ready at this point and he threw himself at the creature. The two of them met each other halfway in some sort of twisted titan clash, fists and feet flying. They struggled back the way Sam had come from, falling over the black leather couch at the opposite end of the room and crashing through the glass-top coffee table on the other side. The shifter grabbed hold of Sam's neck and squeezed.

Sam struggled furiously, trying to break free of the shifter's strangling grasp but without success. Slowly, his struggles weakened as the shifter's hold grew tighter and Sam began to run out of oxygen.

"Hey!"

Both Sam and the shapeshifter looked up at the unexpected shout. Standing in the doorway to Rebecca's rec room was the real Dean, pointing a pistol at the shapeshifter.

The shifter released Sam's neck and jumped to his feet, eyes flashing silver. Dean pulled the trigger and burned a silver bullet right through the shifter's heart.

Blood blossomed on the shifter's gray tee shirt. He stumbled backwards and hit the wall, slumping and falling over onto the small leather-covered bench beneath him. Eyes wide open, the shifter sprawled on his back and stared at Sam with an empty expression.

He was dead.

Suddenly, Rebecca burst into the room behind Dean, racing to Sam's side. "Sam? Are you all right? Oh my god…"

Sam blinked at her, clearing his throat furiously. He couldn't really speak at the moment. He looked over at the pool table and saw Jayne, who had entered right after Rebecca, helping Lynn sit up.

Then he glanced over at Dean. Dean crossed the room to where the shifter's body lay. He blinked at the strange sight. One Dean, empty-eyed and dead, laying flat on his back, and another Dean, knelt down over his body with a grim, satisfied expression on his face.

Around the shifter's neck was a charm that Dean always wore and that the shifter must have stolen the first time they encountered him. As Sam watched, Dean ripped the charm from around the shapeshifter's neck and palmed it, the satisfaction on his face increasing.

Sam watched, uneasy. He too was glad the shapeshifter was dead, but Dean's look of satisfaction at having made the killing shot was enough to haunt him in the night. And Sam didn't need anything else haunting him at night.

* * *

Lynn sat up slowly, wincing as she went, feeling her stepsister's supportive hand on her back. "Are you all right?" Jayne demanded.

Just hearing her stepsister's voice made Lynn want to forget how sore she was and leap off the table in a show of enthusiastic tap dancing. As it was, Lynn remained half sitting, half laying on the pool table, and looked up through her tussled black hair at her sister's concerned face.

A small grin twitched on Lynn's lips. "Where the hell have you been?" she asked.

Jayne blinked, and then smirked. "Sewer. You?"

"Jail."

Jayne laughed. "Jaynie, I'm so glad to see you," Lynn murmured, her feelings coming through a little too strongly in her voice.

Her stepsister looked uncomfortable, but she smiled at Lynn anyway. "Yeah. Right back at you. Now answer my question: are you all right?"

Lynn shrugged. "I'll survive. You?"

Jayne shrugged back. "I've seen better days. But then, I've seen worse ones too." She helped Lynn down off the pool table.

Lynn stumbled slightly and had to grab onto her stepsister for support. Jayne helped her straighten out. "Sure you're ok?" Jayne asked.

She nodded. "Yeah." Then, on impulse, she wrapped her arms around Jayne and gave her a hug.

Just as Lynn had expected, Jayne instantly froze. But she quickly relaxed and hugged her stepsister back with as much warmth as Lynn had hugged her… albeit, a tad more awkwardly.

They separated and Lynn straightened, trying her best to maintain balance. She looked over at Sam, who was slowly sitting up off the floor. Becky was helping him, babbling on about how worried she was.

Lynn sighed.

Jayne raised her eyebrow. "What?" she asked.

Lynn shrugged. "I know I only met Becky once and all, and it wasn't even her, it was a shape-shifting creature that only looked like her, but… I really hate her. Is that bad?"

Her stepsister snorted, an amused smile lighting up her face. "Yeah. It's really bad."

Lynn sighed. "I was afraid you would say that."

She watched as Dean and Sam had the obligatory big brother makes sure little brother is all right moment, and then, once she thought they'd had enough time, decided to step in. They had one hell of a mess to clean up – a mess that Sam's buddy Zack might get out of squeaky clean, but would probably ruin the elder Winchester's life.

Clearing her throat, Lynn announced, "All right, we should probably call the cops."

Dean looked up at her. "What?" he asked.

"We should call the cops," she repeated. "And let them know that the perp is dead."

Everyone stared at her, and then their eyes traveled over to the shapeshifter's body.

"Right," Sam murmured, his voice scratchy. "Then Dean and I can get out of here tomorrow without having to worry about the law."

Dean nodded slowly. "Guess that sounds all right." He smirked. "Hey, I'm actually faking my own death!"

"It's like you're a character from a soap opera," Jayne said dryly.

Dean made a face at her.

"All right," Becky spoke up, sounding shaky. "I'll go call."

She got up off the floor and disappeared into the hallway.

"Think she'll be all right?" Dean asked.

Sam snorted. "Would you be?"

There was a short moment of silence that Lynn quickly interrupted. "All right," she said in her take-charge, no-nonsense tone of voice. "Dean, you need to get out of here, pronto. Go back to the motel or something. Sam and I will stay here, be witnesses or whatever."

Dean nodded. "No arguments here."

"Jayne, you should go with him," Lynn continued.

Jayne raised her eyebrow. "Why?"

Lynn returned the raised brow. "Well, if Dean is lying dead in Becky's rec room, then it would look pretty odd if the Impala's gone. Which means Dean will have to hitch a ride out of here in the truck… and unless you're ok with Dean driving Janis…"

"I'm going," Jayne interrupted too quickly, pulling her keys from her pocket.

"Thanks a lot, Goldilocks," Dean snorted.

Jayne fixed him with an almost deadly glare. "Look, pal, I barely let Lynn drive my Janis. There's no way in hell _you're_ getting behind the wheel. I've seen you drive."

"Hey, I'm a great driver!"

"I think that's a matter of opinion," Sam offered from the floor, an amused smile forming on his bruised face.

Dean pointed a warning finger at his little brother. "Keep that up, and I'm going to stop saving your ass."

"I had a plan," Sam retorted.

"Right."

"Ok," Lynn intervened. "If you're all quite done acting like children…?"

"All right, all right, we're going," Dean replied, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Goldilocks, let's go."

He strode out of the rec room. Jayne made a face, and then followed him out, her keys jangling in her hand.

Lynn turned to look at Sam, who smiled at her, rolling his eyes toward the door.

"You hanging in there?" she asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. I'll be all right."

Lynn nodded back, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I mean, is that too macho for you?" he asked. "Cause I can let you help me up or something, if you're going to get upset."

Her head snapped up in his direction. She was about to make a rude retort, when she saw the smile on his face.

Rolling her eyes, Lynn replied, "Shut up."

* * *

The sun had gone down a while ago, and now the street outside Becky's house was dark, lit only by the glow of the streetlamps. Dean stepped out of Becky's front door and let it shut with a loud, obnoxious clang that echoed into the quiet street. Jayne was marching towards her truck, arms folded across her chest and eyes focused straight ahead. She was several feet ahead of him, and Dean had to jog to close the distance. Once he reached her side, Dean slowed down to match her pace. Jayne kept walking, not looking at him. He glanced over at her face, taking in the pallor of her skin and the bruise on her temple that was actually getting bigger. She had twisted her blonde hair back into its usual braid and almost looked like her old self again.

Dean sighed heavily in an attempt to get her attention. She ignored him.

"You know," he announced. "I'm hungry."

She finally looked over at him, raising her eyebrow. "_You're_ hungry?" she retorted. "I've been locked in a sewer since last night."

He chuckled. "Guess you win."

They fell quiet. "Say," Dean said suddenly. "I could go for a cheeseburger. What about you?"

Jayne blinked. "What?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Do you want to go get a cheeseburger?" he asked slowly and deliberately, as though speaking to someone with a much lower I.Q.

She thought about it for a moment. "And chili-cheese fries?" she asked almost hopefully.

He had to smile. "Yeah," he said. "Why not?"

Jayne grinned. "OK. Sounds good."

She hopped into the driver's seat of her truck. Dean walked around the side and took his seat beside her. He leaned against the door, his elbow propped up on the window, and watched as she stuck the key in the ignition and turned it, letting Janis rumble into life.

A satisfied grin crossed her face when the engine started. She pulled down the gearshift lever by the steering wheel, shifting out of park and into drive. Then she glanced over her shoulder and pulled out into the street.

Dean watched her as discreetly as he knew how. He had thought that once Jayne was back in her flannel and her hair was back in its braid, and once they were out of the sewer and she was back behind the wheel of the rust-trap she called a truck, she would go back to just being Jayne. He was wrong. She didn't look quite so hot anymore, but she didn't look like her tomboyish self either. Maybe he had just never bothered to really look at her before. But there was something in the way she drove her truck, obviously pleased that she was behind the wheel, something in the way she had lit up when he'd handed over her flannel, something about her craving for chili-cheese fries… it was… well… kind of cute.

That's when Dean made himself look away. He forced himself to stare straight out the windshield. There was something wrong with thinking Jayne was cute. He was officially weirded out by his own brain.

Jayne was a good driver. That was something else he'd never noticed before. She navigated the truck smoothly through the streets, checking her mirrors when she switched lanes, stopping when she was supposed to. He almost made a comment about her driving like a grandma… and then he caught a glimpse of the speedometer and realized she was going twenty miles per hour over the speed limit.

He felt his eyes go wide. Quickly, he looked away, turning his gaze out the passenger-side window.

At least she kept him on his toes.

Soon, Jayne was pulling into the parking lot of a burger joint. "Inside or takeout?" she asked.

He jumped, startled by the address. The entire ride had been spent in silence. Not awkward silence, just silence.

"Uh… we could go inside," he decided.

She shrugged, parked the truck, and shut the engine down. Both of them swung their doors open and hopped down out of the cab.

Dean opened the door to the burger place and held it for her. She stopped and stared at him, eyebrow raised.

"What?" he demanded.

She shrugged. "Nothing. I just… didn't realize you had good manners."

He frowned. "Shut up."

She smirked and headed inside.

* * *

Sam took a seat beside Lynn on the black leather couch in Becky's rec room, exhausted. He had volunteered his and Lynn's services in cleaning up the mess they'd made during the fight with the shapeshifter. The offer had earned him a dissatisfied frown from Lynn - a frown that had only deepened when Becky had unfortunately agreed and then gone up to bed after the cops had left. The coroner left soon after, taking "Dean's" body with him.

Now that the glass had been swept up and the shelves were righted, he and Lynn were just sitting on that couch, staring at the blank widescreen TV. Sam had also agreed to stay the night at Becky's, since she was still really freaked out about everything that had just happened. Another mistake.

Lynn sighed. "I'm sleepy," she complained.

"Sorry," Sam replied. "Me too."

They were quiet for a moment. "You could leave, if you want," Sam offered gallantly. "Dean left me the keys for the Impala…"

Lynn snorted. "Yeah. Right. Because I'm sore and exhausted so what I really need is for Dean to strangle me half to death for driving his baby."

Sam let slip a quiet laugh. "True," he agreed. "I can't gurantee that won't happen."

"Don't sweat it, Sam," Lynn said, leaning back against the couch and shifting around to find a comfortable position. She propped her feet up on what was left of Becky's coffee table. "I'll live."

"You almost didn't," he found it necessary to point out. "I'm sorry, Lynn. I had no idea that wasn't Becky. If I had…"

"Oh, Sam, stop it," she rolled her eyes. "No one blames you."

Sam fell quiet, fixing his gaze on the carpet, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He didn't really know what to say to that, so he resorted to chewing on the inside of his cheek. Lynn shifted on the sofa again, closing her eyes. Sam spared her a sideways glance, moving his chin ever so slightly in her direction. Her flower-printed tee shirt had ridden up, showing off a stretch of round, brown stomach between her shirt hem and the waist of her dark, tight jeans. Her hands rested peacefully on her thighs. With her eyes closed, her dark lashes seemed even longer, splayed out against her cheekbones.

She sighed harshly without opening her eyes. "This expensive leather couch is really very uncomfortable," she announced. "Color me surprised."

Sam chuckled. "So, do you regret coming out here to help me?" he asked.

"Why? Because the couch is uncomfortable?"

"No, because a shapeshifting creature stole my brother's face, kidnapped your sister, and beat both of us into a pulp."

Lynn laughed. "Yeah, right. Best time of my life."

Sam laughed too. "Ok, but really?"

She opened her eyes and met his. "I'm a hunter, Sam. I accepted an offer to go on a hunt. I think I was well aware of what that implied."

"Still…"

"Oh, shush," she waved him off. "It was great. I gave hell in at least two fights." She winked, as if she needed to let him know she was joking.

Sam laughed again. "Yeah," he agreed. "You were pretty amazing."

"Really?"

"Really," he smirked. "You were crazy. You were like one of those psycho girls who end up on an MTV reality show."

Lynn threw her head back and laughed. Sam grinned.

After a while, the two of them lapsed back into silence and Lynn closed her eyes once more. He watched her. In the silence, he could hear his thoughts turning restlessly in his mind. Something his brother had said to him before this whole thing started was bothering him. He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt an urgent need to address it.

"Lynn?"

"What?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Um… ok…"

"Dean says you're carrying the torch for me."

Slowly, her eyes opened. She raised her eyebrow.

He held up his hands, shrugging. "His words, not mine."

"What does that even mean?" she asked. "Carrying the torch? It doesn't make sense."

"I think it means that…"

"Yeah, I get the implications."

Sam sighed, smiling slightly even though he wasn't exactly sure what there was to smile about. "So… are you?"

She stared at him, sitting up straighter. "What is wrong with you?" she asked. "You can't just ask a girl if she's carrying the torch for you, Sam. That's just… just…"

"Direct, honest, and to the point?"

She narrowed her eyes, glaring at him. "Maybe."

"Lynn, look," Sam said, taking a deep breath. "I just want to know if you're expecting something to happen here. Between us. Because I don't… it's just that…"

"Sam," Lynn interrupted him, speaking slowly and deliberately, and fixing him with a look that implied the word 'duh.' "Calm down. Stop stuttering. Relax. Yeah, you're an extremely attractive young man. I won't lie. I am attracted. But to say I'm carrying the torch for you? That's sort of pushing it, don't you think?"

Sam stared at her for a moment, and then took another deep breath. "Lynn, you're really pretty."

She raised her eyebrow again. "Thank you, Sam."

"I just meant that… I would normally be attracted to you too. I mean, you're gorgeous. And funny, and smart, and… assertive…"

"Bossy," Lynn interrupted. "I think you mean bossy."

"Well, still…"

"Sam, let me make this quick and painless for you," she interrupted him again. "You think I'm cute. I think you're cute. But you're in mourning for the love of your life, and you're in no position to be thinking anyone's cute. And I am dealing with enough shit in my own life, which means I really don't need to be dealing with yours too. So you won't be dating me. And you can stop softening the blow, because there isn't one. I'm not asking you to date me. You're a nice guy, and you're very cute, but I understand the baggage and I've got plenty of my own. I'm not expecting anything out of you. We can be friends. And that's all we have to be. So stop trying to break up with me in the kindest way possible. It's unnecessary. You're not going to hurt me; I barely know you. Don't flatter yourself."

She stopped talking. Sam stared, sure there was more until she didn't go on. Then he blinked, absorbing her words. He didn't know how to respond. The whole speech he'd been rehearsing in his head suddenly seemed... unnecessary, as she put it. She'd preemptively shut him down; she'd figured out his line and thrown it back at him. She was good.

"Ok," he said finally. "I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page."

"We are," she replied, giving him a short smile. Then she closed her eyes and leaned back against the couch once again. "So… you having anymore of those psychic visions?"

Sam stiffened. Oh, she was very good. "No," he said firmly. "And I told you, they're not…"

"Right, sure."

The two of them fell quiet again. Lynn appeared to have fallen asleep. And Sam was left staring at her, knowing he'd accomplished exactly what he'd set out to, and wondering why that accomplishment didn't satisfy him more. In fact, he was suddenly possessed with a violent urge to shake Lynn awake and demand to know exactly what the hell had just happened.

* * *

Jayne didn't quite understand what had led to her sitting across from Dean Winchester in a greasy burger joint. All she knew was that she was, and that the chili-cheese fries were delicious.

What was really weird, she decided, was that Dean was talking to her. Like they were normal people who didn't really piss one another off. They'd been having conversations. About things she actually cared about. Like cars and music.

"Did you name that truck after Janis Joplin?" he asked.

Jayne raised an eyebrow. "What if I did?"

He laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You."

Jayne narrowed her eyes at him.

"Sorry," he said, shrugging. "But… well, first off I find it hilarious that you even named your car."

"Hey," she retorted. "You got to baby your machine. If you treat her nice, she'll treat you nice."

He laughed again.

Jayne was starting to get annoyed with him. "Don't laugh, you asshole. It's true."

"Sorry," he said, still grinning. "But Janis? That's not a good car name."

"It's perfect," Jayne snapped.

Dean raised his eyebrow. "Enlighten me."

"She's just like Janis," Jayne shrugged. "She's old and busted and beat down, but she just keeps going."

There was a moment of silence. Dean raised his eyebrow again. "You're aware that Janis Joplin is dead?"

"Shut up," she said again. "Everyone still knows her name."

"What is with the Joplin obsession?"

"How can you not be obsessed?"

"Honestly? Find it kind of easy."

"That's because you've obviously never really listened to her. If you had, you'd understand."

Dean smirked. "Well, maybe sometime you're going to have to sit down and make me."

Jayne stared at him for a moment. "Maybe," she replied, feeling sort of uneasy.

They fell into silence again, still eating their burgers. Jayne spared him a glance over the top of the napkin dispenser. Man, he ate like a pig. He tore huge chunks off the edge of his burger with his teeth, using his tongue to get all of the sloppy bacon cheeseburger and assorted condiments into his mouth. And he looked so satisfied too. It didn't seem to bother him that his face was covered in burger grease, or that every time he took a bite, he almost got ketchup in his lap.

"Oh, man," he mumbled around a mouthful of cheeseburger. "This is the best bacon cheeseburger _ever_."

Jayne made a face. "You're disgusting."

He snorted, his mouth still full. "Whatever."

It was a good thing Dean was as heartbreakingly handsome as he was – yes, Jayne could admit he was handsome. Disgusting, irritating, and completely without appreciation for the best musician of all time perhaps, but handsome. And those eyes? Still the most beautiful shade of green she'd ever seen. He was lucky. Because with those table manners? It was a wonder he ever got laid.

"You know," he announced, finally swallowing. "I like you."

Jayne stared at him. "What?"

"I like you," he repeated.

Jayne raised her eyebrow, fighting to keep the smirk off her face. For some reason, the whole situation had suddenly gotten hilarious. "You like me?" she asked. "What, so do you like me like a friend, or do you like-like me?"

He blinked at her, his nose scrunching up in an incredulous expression. "Did you just say like-like?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Are you going to pass me a note and ask me to check yes or no?"

He gave her an exasperated look. Jayne couldn't help it when the smirk she'd been fighting finally formed on her face. "I was just trying to say that you're not so bad," he informed her. "I think we can get along. And that's good."

"Why?"

"Because my brother and your stepsister have the worst case of googly-eyes I've ever seen," he replied matter-of-factly. "So, I think we might be seeing a lot of one another from now on."

Jayne mock shuddered. "I think I lost my appetite."

"Ha-ha."

She grinned, taking a bite out of her burger. "Can we be friends?" he asked.

"Are you a six-year old girl?"

He sighed heavily, giving her another exasperated look. "You know, I'm trying to be civil here," he told her. "I'm trying to… put up with you…"

"Put up with me?"

"That's not what I meant. I'm just trying to say… look, I'm trying to be nice, so stop being a bitch!"

Jayne started to laugh. She couldn't help it. It was really funny.

Dean sighed. "Why the hell are you laughing?"

"How can I not laugh?" she returned. "You're trying to be nice. And you suck at it. It's hilarious."

Dean just stared at her, his expression a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

Jayne sighed, and then made herself smile at him. "All right," she said. "You're not so bad yourself. Good for a rescue, at least… by the way," she felt herself getting embarrassed. "I don't think I ever said thank you for that."

There was a long silence. Finally, Dean asked, "Well? Are you going to?"

Jayne fixed him with an irritated glare. "That _was_ me saying thank you."

He blinked. "Wow," he said. "You _suck_ at saying thank you."

"I do not!"

"Do so!"

Jayne sighed loudly. "All right! Fine! Thank you!"

He smirked. "Don't mention it, Goldilocks."

She rolled her eyes.

They fell quiet again. "Huh," Dean said. "We're not so good at this not bickering thing, are we?"

Jayne shrugged. "It's not my fault you're a child."

He gave her a nasty look. They fell silent for a moment. Jayne stared at her burger, suddenly unable to eat. She and Dean tended not to get along, but she didn't dislike him. And he was making an effort at patching things up between them. She needed to stop screwing this up.

Taking a deep breath, Jayne looked up from her burger and said, "I think we only bicker so much because we have a lot in common."

Dean blinked. "You know," he said, laughing a little. "Sammy said that."

"Yeah?" Jayne laughed a little too. "Lynn's implied the same thing."

He smirked, looking down at his burger. "We do, though," he agreed. "Not really something I like to admit, but… well, take this whole damn hunt. I did this for Sam, you know?"

"And you got the shaft," she agreed.

He nodded. "Exactly. Same thing with you, right?"

She nodded too. "Tends to work out that way."

They stared at one another for a second. Then Dean grabbed the dessert menu off the table in what she assumed was an attempt to change the subject. "I want some pie," he announced.

Jayne stared at him.

"Do you want some pie?" he asked.

She stared at him a moment longer, and then shook her head. "No."

He shrugged. "Your loss."

"I want a hot fudge sundae," she said, smirking at him. "With extra whipped cream."

Dean started to smile again. "Now that's more like it."

* * *


	22. Dean Watches Oprah

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to legrowl, angeleyenc, Nelle07, Padme 4000, Constance Bleu, ksirrah, ThreeMoons, and Shakespeare-is-Love for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 22: Dean Watches Oprah

"I'm gross," Lynn announced as she opened the door to the motel room she shared with Jayne. "I'm taking a shower."

"Like hell you are," Jayne retorted. "I've got dibs."

"But Jaynie…"

"Oh, don't you dare 'but Jaynie' me," Jayne said, brushing past her stepsister into the room. Lynn flicked on the lights and Jayne made her way towards the bathroom. "I have goblin guts in my hair."

"How is that my fault?" Lynn returned primly. "You were the one that wanted to blow them up."

"I don't care. Guts in hair trumps sweaty grossness."

Lynn sighed theatrically, throwing herself on the bed and booting up her laptop. "Fine. Just hurry up so I can get in. Then we are getting drunk."

Jayne laughed. "I'm serious," Lynn said, ignoring the laughter. "That hunt sucked. It was gross. I am annoyed and I want beer."

"All right, we'll hit the bar next door. Let me shower."

"Be fast."

"Do not play rap music," Jayne warned her, pointing at the laptop.

Lynn sighed again. "But I want happy music," she practically whined.

"I don't want to hear it!"

"Just a few songs!"

Jayne sighed harshly and disappeared into the bathroom grumbling. Lynn took that as a concession and started blasting 'Low' by Flo Rida. She heard the shower turn on in the bathroom.

Lynn crossed the room and opened up the mini-fridge, pulling out one of the few remaining beers and popping the cap. She took a swig, nodding her head to the music.

Suddenly, her cell phone rang. Lynn took another gulp of her beer and swiped her phone off the nightstand, answering it without checking the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Hey Lynn, it's Sam."

She froze, shocked. Then she took another gulp of her beer. "Oh. Hey Sam."

"What are you doing?"

Ok, this was weird. She hadn't heard from Sam Winchester in weeks. Not since the incident with the shapeshifter in St. Louis. Without the Winchesters around, she and Jayne had fallen back into their comfortable rhythm. They'd hunted, gone out to bars, and drove around aimlessly. It had been fun. And while she had thought about Sam plenty in the time they'd spent apart, it hadn't exactly been tragic that he wasn't around.

Now he was calling, and Lynn wondered why. Honestly, she hadn't expected to hear from him again, not unless something happened with his father, or he caught wind of Stephen, or the thing that killed Ana Gibson, Mary Winchester, and Jessica Moore reared its ugly head.

Her eyes widened. That was it. One of those three things must have just gone down. "I'm not doing much at the moment," she answered his question. "Why? Did something happen?"

"Um… no, not exactly. I was just looking through the obits, you know? Trying to find my next hunt, and I saw something weird."

Lynn's stomach dropped about three stories. Seriously, she was sure it had just fallen out of her body through her ass.

"What was it?" she asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

"Well, there's this guy in Oklahoma? Some where called Oasis Plains. Anyway, he died in some sort of freak accident. His brain was mostly disintegrated. The coroner says mad cow disease, but that doesn't sound right, does it? I mean, mad cow disease takes time to build up, years even. What do you…"

"Sam," Lynn interrupted him. "Are you calling me to ask what I know about mad cow disease?"

"Um… yeah."

"You unbelievable prig!" Lynn exploded.

"Sorry?"

"You are a prig," Lynn snapped. "Do you have any idea what you just did to me? You call me up out of the blue and tell me you saw something weird in the obits? What is wrong with you? Didn't you think that might scare me?"

"Oh, god, Lynn," he replied. He sounded apologetic. "I didn't even think! I'm so sorry."

"You should be. I totally thought you were going to tell me that something happened to my little brother. What is wrong with you?"

"I'm really, really sorry. I didn't… I'm sorry. I should have thought… I'm sorry."

"I get it," Lynn said, more harshly than she meant to. "You're sorry. Way to say it like twelve hundred times, Sam."

"I know, I just… I'm sorry. I'll call someone else…"

"No, don't do that," Lynn sighed, relenting. "It's all right. You just freaked me out, that's all. What's all this about mad cow disease?"

She heard Sam take a deep breath on the other end. "Right. Well, like I said. This guy in Oasis Plains died real suddenly, and the autopsy revealed his brain was disintegrating. They're calling it 'accelerated' mad cow disease. But the way I heard it? Mad cow disease doesn't attack suddenly, and this guy's death _was_ sudden. I'm not buying it."

"Right," Lynn agreed, taking a seat on the edge of her mattress. "That does sound iffy."

"So I'm thinking maybe Dean and I will go check it out," he went on. "I was just wondering if you had any idea what could do something like this."

Lynn took a deep breath and let it out in a loud puff. "Well… I can't think of any creature off the top of my head that goes in for the brain. A vengeful spirit, maybe. I mean, I've never heard of one doing that before, but I suppose it's possible…"

"But you're willing to bet it's not mad cow disease?"

"I don't really know much about mad cow disease. But yeah, I'd say it's pretty unlikely."

"Well, that's all I need to hear." There was a pause, and then Sam asked, "So what are you and Jayne up to right now?"

"Oh, um…" Lynn glanced almost forlornly at the beer in her hand. "We're between hunts right now. Just sitting in our motel room."

"Oh." He sounded mildly surprised, and kind of… pleased? "So you guys don't have anything lined up?"

"Um, no. No, we don't."

"Maybe you could give me a hand with this mad cow thing."

"Maybe," Lynn frowned, even though she knew Sam couldn't see it. "I mean, I guess I could look some stuff up for you…"

"That's be great," he cut her off, sounding way too enthusiastic. "Or maybe you could come help. Like, in Oklahoma."

Lynn didn't answer right away. She couldn't. What the hell was Sam doing right now? He was asking her to come help him on a hunt that had nothing to do with his dad, or her brother, or the monster that they were searching for? It was… weird. It shouldn't be happening, not after St. Louis…

She had made it clear that she didn't expect anything out of him. She had told him straight up she didn't want to date him. And, yeah, if she was being honest with herself? She hadn't exactly meant that. But it was what he needed to hear. He wasn't ready for anything like that. She wasn't going to push him. And if she was being _really _honest with herself? He'd pissed her off by assuming she was following him around like a lovesick puppy. He needed to be introduced to the real Lynn Juarez. He needed to be knocked down off that pedestal. Her dignity depended on it.

"Lynn?" Sam asked. "Are you still there?"

Realizing she'd been quiet too long, Lynn spoke, "You want me to come to Oklahoma and help you guys out?"

"Um… yeah. I mean, if you want to."

"Well… I just… I don't know Sam."

"Oh. Well, that's ok. You don't have to."

"It's not that I don't want to, I just… well, you have to admit this is kind of weird."

"Weird?"

"Sam, this is a hunt that has absolutely nothing to do with the few tiny things that connect us," Lynn pointed out. "I guess I'm just surprised you're asking me to come."

"Well, just because…"

"Is this a pity hunt?" Lynn demanded.

"What?"

"Is this a pity hunt?" she repeated. "It feels like a pity hunt."

"It's not a…"

"Because I don't need your pity," she went on. "Jayne and I are perfectly capable of finding hunts without your help."

"I didn't say you weren't…"

"In fact, we've been doing tons of hunting since we left St. Louis," Lynn carried on. "We just finished a hunt, actually. Like fifteen minutes ago."

"Lynn," Sam said, exasperation evident in his tone. "It's not a pity hunt. I am not offering you hunter's charity, ok? I just thought you might want to come. We haven't talked in a few weeks, and I just… sort of missed you two. All right?"

"What?" she asked incredulously. "You missed us?"

"Well… look, I just… you know, if you don't want to come, you don't have to. My feelings won't be hurt if you say no."

"So you want me to say no?"

"What? That's hardly what I said…"

"Look, it's not that I don't want to go. I'll go if you want me to. I mean, I don't mind. I'm not busy. I just… if you want me to, I can."

"Sure. If you want to come, that's fine."

"Only if you mean it."

"Why wouldn't I mean it?"

"Well… I don't know…"

"If you say one more thing about this being a pity hunt…"

"All right, all right, I believe you. You want me to come."

"Yeah, if you want to."

Lynn sighed heavily. This was getting neither of them anywhere. "Fine," she said suddenly, making a snap decision. "We'll come."

"You will?"

"You said you wanted us."

"I do. I mean…"

"Sam, stop doing that."

"Right. Sorry."

"Are we welcome?"

"Yes."

"We'll be there."

"Great. We're going to head for Oklahoma in half an hour or so. We're about six hours out."

"Six hours? Probably going to take us longer."

"That's fine. We'll just meet there. You can give me a call once you get into town and we'll decide where to meet up."

"Ok. I'll just run it by Jayne, give you a call if things change. Sound good?"

"Yeah, sounds great. I'll see you soon, Lynn."

"Yeah. See you, Sam."

She heard the click of his phone being hung up. Sighing, Lynn hung up her phone as well and stared at it for a moment. Suddenly, she felt very confused.

She tossed the phone onto her mattress and took a very long drink from her beer bottle.

Jayne stepped out of the bathroom in baggy sweats, drying her hair with a white towel. "All right, the guts are gone and the shower's free. Get in there. And turn that shit off." She gestured at Lynn's laptop and then focused on drying her hair for a few more seconds. Finally giving up, she tossed the now damp towel onto the dresser and turned back to Lynn. She frowned, pointing at the bottle in Lynn's hand. "That better not be the last beer."

Lynn smiled slightly, idly moving the beer bottle back and forth between her hands. How exactly was she going to tell Jayne, she wondered.

She must have been too quiet too long, or she looked extremely guilty, because Jayne took one good long look at her and then sighed heavily. "We're not going to the bar, are we?" she asked.

Lynn tried valiantly to smile. She was sure the smile simply looked guilty. "I just got a phone call from Sam Winchester," she announced.

Jayne sighed again, rolling her eyes and leaning against the wall. "Damn it."

* * *

Sam hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what he had just done and why he had done it.

He was sitting on the hood of Dean's Impala, leaving through newspaper articles, waiting for his brother to come out of the roadside pub he'd insisted on stopping at. It had recently rained, and the gravel parking lot was full of huge, deep puddles. There was plenty of light to read by, coming from the large neon sign over the door, but it was sort of difficult to concentrate. From inside the large, wood, barn-shaped building there came constant thumping rock music and shattering glass. All around him, out in the parking lot, the roar of motorcycles as they both pulled in or drove out assailed his ears.

When he had seen the article about the man who'd died in a sinkhole from an onset of mad cow disease, he had known right away something way fishy. There was no way someone could die a sudden death from a long-term illness. There would have been signs of brain deterioration long before his death had occurred. Without even realizing what he was doing, he had picked up his cell phone and called Lynn Juarez.

He wasn't sure why. It had been a strange impulse. What was even stranger was that he'd given into it. But things only got stranger from there. As soon as he'd heard Lynn's voice, he'd suddenly really wanted to see her. Why, was again anyone's guess.

So he'd asked her to help. He'd asked her to come out to Oklahoma and help him and Dean investigate. It wasn't until she had started in on him, accusing him of offering her a pity hunt that he had begun to question the impulse. After their chat in Becky's living room back in St. Louis, Sam had thought it best to put some distance between him and Lynn. There was too much… too much of _something_… lingering underneath the friendship they were starting to build, and he wasn't ready for that something. He couldn't be ready for that something. Not after Jess…

But then there had been Laurie, he realized. The pieces began to fall into place. That last hunt he'd been on with Dean, when they'd hunted that spirit version of the hook-man. He had met Laurie, the sweet, innocent, guilt ridden college freshman with sex appeal equal to Lynn's… just in a very, _very_ different way… and holy crap, he'd just admitted to himself that Lynn had sex appeal.

He shook his head, ridding himself of the thought. The point was, he'd felt something with Laurie. A casual, fleeting, but none the less romantic something with Laurie… and he'd kissed her. Something he'd never allowed himself to do with Lynn, something he'd never thought he'd allow himself to do with anyone after Jess…

Sam was confused. And so, the analytical, law student part of him had conjectured that the best way to rid himself of said confusion would be to call Lynn back into the picture and then… reappraise the picture. He sighed heavily, flopping back against the Impala's windshield and tightening his grip on his cell phone. Goddamn his subconscious anyhow.

Calling Lynn back into the picture was not going to make him any less confused than he was right now; that he was certain of.

"Heh heh heh heh."

Cackling, self-satisfied laughter suddenly rang in Sam's ears, snapping him out of his reverie. He didn't need to look up to know it was Dean, but he did anyway.

Dean wagged a roll of bills at him. Sam was instantly irritated. "You know, we could get day jobs once and a while," he snapped.

"Hunting is our day job," Dean retorted, counting his money. "And the pay is crap."

"Still," Sam pressed, finding himself in an arguing mood. "Hustling pool? Credit card scams? It's not the most honest thing in the world, Dean."

"Well, let's see. Honest... fun and easy… it's no contest. Besides, we're good at it. It's what we were raised to do."

Sam found it difficult not to smile at his brother's reply. "Yeah, well how we were raised was jacked."

"Yeah, says you." Dean finished counting his money and looked at the newspaper Sam was holding in his hand. "We got a new gig or what?"

"Maybe," Sam said, hopping down off the hood of the car. "Oasis Plains, Oklahoma. Not far from here. Gas company employee: Dustin Burwash."

He came around the bumper of the car to stand by his brother, slapping the paper down on the hood. His brother bent over the car, reading over Sam's shoulder. Sam went on; "Supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob."

Dean stared at him blankly. "Huh?"

"Human mad cow disease," Sam elaborated.

"Mad cow," Dean repeated thoughtfully. "Wasn't that on Oprah?"

The question startled Sam. "You watch Oprah?" he asked incredulously.

Dean looked mildly embarrassed and was quick to ignore the question. "So this guy ate some bad burger, why is that our kind of thing?"

"Mad cow disease causes massive brain deterioration. It takes months, even years for the damage to appear. But this guy Dustin? Sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour, maybe less."

"That's weird."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Now, it could be a disease. Or it could be something much nastier."

"All right," Dean said. "Oklahoma. Let's go."

The two of them gathered up the newspapers and clambered into the Impala. "Work, work, work," Dean quipped. "No time to spend my money."

He started the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. Sam took a deep breath, knowing he had to give Dean a heads up about the other thing he'd done while his brother was hustling pool. His stomach turned over as he prepared to come clean, knowing that Dean was going to flip.

"So, uh… while you were in the bar, I made a phone call."

"That's great, Sammy," Dean returned, giving him an odd look. "Did you use the big boy toilet too?"

"Shut up, Dean," Sam retorted. "I'm only telling you this because I called Lynn Juarez."

Dean's entire body went tense. His jaw ticked. Then he rolled his eyes and let loose a loud sigh. "Damn it, Sam," he practically whined. "They're coming to Oklahoma, aren't they?"

Sam winced. "Um… yeah."

"Damn it," Dean said again. "What is the matter with you? When we pulled out of St. Louis, you said you weren't going to be seeing Lynn again, not for a while. Three weeks does not feel like a while!"

"Look, I'm sorry," Sam said, holding up his hands in defeat. "I know what I said, ok? I just… I don't know. Whatever I was thinking, it's done. I invited them and they're coming."

"And how does Jayne feel about all this?"

Sam blinked. "What?"

"Jayne," Dean repeated. "You know, blonde girl? About 5'10? Drives a pick up truck and likes flannel?"

"I don't know," Sam replied. "I only talked to Lynn. She just said she'd run it by Jayne and they'd meet us in Oasis Plains."

"Run it by Jayne?" Dean repeated. He shook his head, a dry chuckle escaping his throat. "Wow. You know, you two really take the cake."

"Sorry?"

"You and Lynn. Seriously, are you two made for one another or what? You invite them along without asking me? Before you even ran the hunt by me? And then Lynn goes and pulls the same thing on Jayne. Do you two share a brain or something?"

"Dean, I'm sorry," Sam said, a little taken back. "I didn't realize you were going to get so upset."

"I'm not upset," Dean snapped. Sam didn't buy that for a minute. "I'm just saying, that's all."

They were quiet for a long time. "I really am sorry," Sam spoke finally.

"Stop, Sam," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"I mean it," Sam pressed. "I didn't think. Next time, I'll consider you before I…"

"All right, that's enough," Dean interrupted. "House rules, Sammy. No chick flick moments."

Sam blinked. Then he laughed slightly. "All right, fine. Jerk."

"Bitch."

* * *

Jayne was rather irritated as she guided her pickup truck along the highway, getting closer to Oasis Plains, Oklahoma. They'd be there in less than an hour now, and she was already regretting coming out here.

Lynn was sitting beside her in the cab, playing with her hair. She kept sighing loudly, and it was starting to get on Jayne's nerves.

"Why did I do this?" Lynn asked suddenly.

Jayne glanced over at her, and then refocused her eyes on the road. "Haven't the faintest idea. Was about to ask you the same question."

"He just really threw me off," Lynn went on. "I didn't expect that, you know? I kind of thought I was never going to hear from him again… you know, not unless something happened with their dad or Stephen or… something like that."

Jayne nodded mutely.

"But then he calls out of the blue and asks me to come on a hunt that has nothing to do with any of that stuff!" Lynn was starting to sound hysterical. "And he says he misses me. Or, well, us. Still, what the hell is that all about?"

"I don't know."

"Well, I don't either!" Lynn huffed, folding her arms petulantly, and throwing herself against the door.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Ok, so refresh my memory. What did you say to him back in St. Louis?"

"I completely shut him down," Lynn informed her triumphantly. "I told him I didn't want to date him, so stop letting me down easy, and not to flatter himself. He totally didn't know what hit him."

"Good on you."

"Yeah. At the time." The triumph that had been previously present in her voice was gone now, replaced by anxiety. "Now I think I messed up again."

As much as this little junior high level conversation about boys and how to play mind games with them was boring the hell out of Jayne, she did her best to keep muscling through it. "Because you accepted a hunt that he invited you on?"

"Exactly! Do I look desperate now? What do you think?"

"I… I don't…"

"I don't think I look desperate," Lynn interrupted, answering her own question. "He looks desperate. Right?"

Jayne sighed in exasperation. "Honestly, Lynn? I have no freaking idea!"

Lynn winced. "Sorry."

"You know, you could have run all this by me before you accepted this hunt," Jayne felt obliged to point out. "And by 'run all this by me' I don't mean your boy drama, I mean the hunt."

"I know. I'm sorry. You can still back out."

"No, it's all right. I didn't have anything else to do." She was quiet for a moment, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "But what does Dean think about all this?"

Lynn frowned in confusion. "What, about me and Sam?"

Jayne rolled her eyes. "No, dumbass! About Sam asking us along on this hunt."

"Oh," Lynn frowned. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Jayne repeated. "Did Sam even ask him before he asked us?"

"I… don't really know."

"Well, I hope he did," Jayne muttered. "Either way, I bet Dean's not happy."

Lynn's frown deepened, and she fixed her stepsister with an accusing look. "Since when do you care about Dean?" she demanded.

"I don't," Jayne retorted a little too quickly. "I just mean, I know how I feel about all this, so…"

"Ok," Lynn said doubtfully. "I'm just saying, it's kind of odd that you even care the tiniest bit, because last I checked, you hate him."

"I don't hate him," Jayne returned.

"You don't?"

"No."

"So, what? Are you two like best buds now?"

"No," Jayne said forcefully. "Just because I'm a considerate person doesn't mean…"

"Oh, please."

Jayne sighed harshly.

Lynn frowned. "Do you like him?"

"No," Jayne snapped. "No, I just… look, Dean's not my friend, and he really annoys me. But that doesn't mean I hate him. And… I don't know, we just… Dean and I just understand one another, all right?"

Lynn blinked, staring at her. "You understand one another?" she repeated.

"Yes," Jayne said, again sounding snappish. "Shut up."

Lynn held her hands up in defeat. "All right. Sorry."

They fell silent, driving down the Interstate. They were less than half an hour outside of Oasis Plains now.

"I can't believe you're making me go to Oklahoma," Jayne grumbled.

* * *

"So you found some beetles. In a hole in the ground," Dean said sarcastically. "That's shocking, Sam."

His brother looked up at him, and Dean could see from his face that Sam was annoyed with him. "There were no tunnels. No tracks. No evidence of any other kind of animal down there," Sam retorted, before going back to examining the dead beetle he held in his hand. "You know, some beetles _do_ eat meat. Now, it's usually dead meat, but…"

"How many did you find down there?" Dean interrupted.

"Ten."

Dean twitched the left side of his mouth in a skeptical gesture. "It'd take a whole lot more than that to eat out somebody's brain."

"Well, maybe there were more."

Before they could argue anymore on the subject, Sam's cell phone rang. Dean rolled his eyes as Sam struggled to get the phone out of his pocket as quickly as possible and answer it. He'd bet good money the caller was Lynn Juarez.

"Hello?" Sam answered the phone.

There was a pause. "Oh, hey, Lynn. Are you guys here?"

Another pause. "Great. Um, we just finished checking out the sinkhole that Dustin Burwash fell in when he died. I found some beetles down there, but that was about it."

Lynn said something, and Sam laughed. "Yeah, that's what Dean said. I'm not really sure what's going on. I mean, beetles _do_ eat meat, but… well, we're just going to have to check out the area, figure out if anything like this has happened before. Do you, uh… want to meet at the library or something?"

While Sam had been having his positively stirring conversation with Lynn (yeah, right) Dean had noticed several signs set up along the street they were traveling down. Apparently, the brand new Oasis Plains development was having some sort of open house, and there was an informational barbecue at Larry Pike's house, whoever the hell that was.

"I think we know a good place we can start checking stuff out," Dean interrupted Sam's phone call. Sam glanced over at him, and Dean gestured towards one of the signs.

"I'm kind of hungry for a little barbecue," he said. "How about you?"

Sam gave him an irritated look.

"What?" Dean asked. "We can't talk to the locals?"

"And the free food has nothing to do with it?"

"Of course not, I'm a professional."

Sam continued giving him that doubtful, irritated look. Dean gestured at the phone in his younger brother's hand. "Tell them to meet us here."

After one last annoyed look at his brother, Sam returned to his phone. "Uh, Lynn? Scratch the library. We found an open house we're going to check it out. The address is…"

As Sam rattled off Larry Pike's address for the benefit of the girls, Dean pulled his Impala up alongside the curb, in between two other parked cars. He shoved the gearshift into park and shut down the ignition.

Sam hung up his phone. "Let's wait for them in the car," he said.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on, man, I'm hungry!"

"Dean..."

Dean sighed heavily, rolling his eyes yet again. "Fine. Whatever."

He started the car back up and turned on the radio. As he flipped through the stations, searching for some decent classic rock, he looked out through the windshield, giving the neighborhood a once over.

"Man, growing up in a place like this would freak me out," he announced.

Apparently, Sam didn't share that opinion, because he looked over at Dean in incredulity. "Why?" he asked.

Dean snorted, gesturing at their surroundings. "Come on. The manicured lawns and the how was your day, honey? I'd blow my brains out."

Sam continued giving him that incredulous look. "There's nothing wrong with normal, Dean."

Dean shrugged. "I'd take our family over normal any day."

They lapsed into silence. Dean found a station playing Metallica and stopped fiddling with the dial, settling back in his seat for a good jam session.

About fifteen minutes later, a beat up pickup truck rumbled down the street and parked on the side of the road, directly before the car in front of Dean. Two seconds after that, Jayne and Lynn hopped down from the cab, and made their way over to the Impala.

Dean and Sam got out of their car as well. "About time," Dean greeted them, slamming his car door. "I'm starving over here."

"So… this open house here is less about the investigation and more about the food?" Lynn retorted without missing a beat. "Wow. Professionalism. Color me impressed."

"Let's just go inside," Sam said. "How was the trip out?"

"It was fine. What about you guys?"

Dean followed along behind Lynn and Sam, tuning out their conversation. Jayne followed a few paces behind him, her arms crossed over her chest. The four of them crowded onto Larry Pike's front stoop, Jayne and Lynn on either side of him and his brother. Sam knocked on the door.

The door was opened by a middle-aged man with graying hair and a creased forehead. He grinned a salesman's smile and said "Welcome!"

"Is this the barbecue?" Dean asked.

"Yep. Not the best weather, but…" he grinned and shook Dean and Sam's hands. "I'm Larry Pike, the developer here, and you are…?'

"Dean," Dean introduced himself. "This is Sam. And…"

He was about to introduce Lynn and Jayne, but Larry cut him off. "Good to meet you. So you two are interested in Oasis Plains?"

"Yes, sir," Dean replied, frowning. He opened his mouth to say something else about the girls, but again Larry cut him to the chase.

"Well, let me just say, we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color, or… sexual orientation."

Dean blinked. Sam frowned. Understanding the developer's implications at once, Dean panicked and grabbed Jayne, who was standing near him, by the waist and yanked her into view. Larry's eyes widened in surprise as Jayne appeared from behind the warped glass window on the side of the door. "This is my wife," he said quickly. "Jayne. Honey, this is Larry, the head realtor."

Jayne glared at him. Larry blinked. "Oh, um… my apologies, I didn't see you there. And…"

Lynn shoved Sam out of her way, making her presence known as well. Larry took her in with surprise as well. "And this must be _your_ wife…"

Sam's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Lynn looked up at his caught-in-the-headlights expression and took charge. "Girlfriend, actually," she said. "Hi, I'm Lynn."

She shook Larry's hand. "All right, well… Sam, Dean, Jayne and Lynn. Got it." Larry looked rather embarrassed – which served him right, Dean thought with no small amount of indignation. "So, you're both looking for homes here?"

"They are," Sam said quickly, gesturing at Dean and Jayne. Apparently, he'd found his voice again. "Lynn and I… well, we're considering it. We'd like to be close to my brother, but…"

"Right," Larry said, smiling. "I understand. Well, come on in. The food's out back."

He turned, leading the way inside the house. Jayne immediately elbowed Dean in the stomach. Wincing, he released his grip on her waist.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

"Touching me," she retorted. "We're _married_?"

Dean shrugged. "Hey, that guy thought I was gay!" he defended himself. "That situation needed to be remedied!"

She glowered at him. "I hate you," she announced.

"Oh, you hate me?" he repeated. "You know, I seem to remember us agreeing to be civil. That doesn't sound vey civil to me, Goldilocks."

"Well, I was going to be civil to you," she growled. "But then you decided we were married. So now, I hate you again."

"Yeah, well, I hate you too, honey," he smirked, draping his arm over her shoulders. "Try and smile nice for the neighbors."

* * *

Sam and Lynn followed Larry out into his backward, walking side by side. Lynn could hear Jayne and Dean bickering behind her as they went and had to roll her eyes. Her stepsister and Sam's older brother understood one another, huh? Yeah, right.

The backyard was small and meticulously kept, walled in by a high wood fence. Half of it was taken up by a sprawling wood and marble patio. Picnic tables had been set up under plastic canopies, and several other potential home buyers were prowling around the yard, picking at the picnic and talking with realtors. She heard her stomach rumble quietly at the sight of the barbecue spread. That long car ride had made her ravenous.

"So, you said you're the developer?" Sam asked as they stepped down out of the house and into the yard.

Larry had a story to tell. She could see it in his eyes and prepared herself for a long, boring tale that would get her almost nowhere. "Eighteen months ago, I was walking this valley with a surveillance team, and there was nothing here but scrub brush and squirrels," Larry announced. "And you know what? We built such a nice place to live that I actually bought into it myself. This is our house. We were the first family in Oasis Plains."

The four hunters and Larry stopped before a pretty blonde woman who was standing at attention, apparently expecting to be addressed. "This here is my lovely wife, Joanie. Honey…"

"Hi there," the blonde woman smiled, shaking hands with each one of them in turn.

"This is Dean and Jayne," the realtor announced, gesturing at the two of them. "They're interested in settling down here. And this here is Dean's brother Sam, and his girlfriend, Lynn. They're not quite as ready to settle down, but I've been led to believe they can be persuaded."

"Oh really?" Joanie grinned.

"Tell them how much you love the place, honey," Larry joked. "And lie if you have to, because I need to sell some houses."

All four of them smiled politely at the joke. His wife grinned again. "Right," she said.

"If you'll excuse me…" Larry said, and then he disappeared back across the yard.

Joanie smiled at them. "Dean and Jayne," she said, turning to the supposed real customers. "Newlyweds?" she asked.

Lynn saw Jayne's automatic grimace. Dean forced a smile and said, "Yep. That's us."

"Well, don't let Larry's jokes scare you," she said. "This really is an excellent place to live. Great for families. It's a nice place to settle down if you're planning on having kids."

Lynn bit her lip, raising an eyebrow in amusement. Sam choked back a laugh.

"Oh, yeah," Dean grinned. It was painfully obvious he didn't mean it. "Kids, that's us. We love kids, don't we baby?"

He wrapped an arm around Jayne's shoulder and gave her a shake. Lynn saw Jayne go rigid and her lips purse in irritation. "Sure," her stepsister bit out.

"We're going to have tons of kids," Dean went on.

Jayne's eyes went wide with panic. "Not tons," she was quick to add. "Definitely not tons. He's exaggerating."

"No, I'm not," Dean replied, still wearing that strained grin. It was getting more and more strained by the minute.

"Yes, he is," Jayne insisted, trying to smile. She failed.

"Well, maybe a little," Dean conceded. "We'll probably only have three or four."

Lynn saw her stepsister go wide-eyed with panic again. "No," Jayne jumped in again. "Not that many. Less. Way less." Jayne thought for a moment, and then added, "You know, by kids he means dogs."

Joanie's smile was starting to look as strained as Jayne's and Dean's. "Well, animals are welcome too," she said.

"Good," Dean spoke up. "Because we love animals. But not as much as we love kids."

Joanie smiled, nodding. She looked distinctly uncomfortable. Suddenly, she grabbed a woman wearing a black suit that had appeared behind her, and practically threw her at the four perspective buyers. "This is Linda Bloom, head of sales," she announced. "Linda was second to move in. She's a very noisy neighbor, though."

With a parting smile, Joanie nearly ran across the yard, leaving poor Linda Bloom alone with the four hunters.

"She's kidding," the pale, dark haired, blue eyed woman laughed. "I guess that means you're interested in becoming homeowners?"

"They are," Sam said quickly, pointing at Dean and Jayne.

"Yep," Lynn felt compelled to add. "They're newlyweds."

Both Dean and Jayne glared at them.

"Oh!" Linda sounded pleased. "That's great! Because this is a great place for families."

Dean and Jayne glared at Sam and Lynn again.

"Are you planning on having kids?" she asked.

"No," Jayne said.

"Oh, yeah," Dean said at the same time.

Lynn almost burst out laughing. Sam, too, looked highly amused. Dean and Jayne froze, glancing awkwardly at one another. Linda's smile got rather strained, not unlike Joanie's had moments before.

"Maybe someday," Dean said, attempting to salvage the situation.

"Exactly," Jayne added, agreeing with Dean for the first time. "Someday."

Linda's smile got more sincere again. "So you're just along to offer a second opinion?" she asked Lynn and Sam knowingly.

"Oh, no," Dean cut in smoothly, obviously intent on revenge. "Sammy here's looking for a place too. Time to settle down, you know. Stop all the partying."

"Oh, you're a partier?" Linda asked, smiling at Sam.

Sam forced a laugh. "I wouldn't say that." As soon as Linda's attention was directed elsewhere, he glared at his brother.

"I keep telling him it's time to settle down," Dean went on, ignoring Sam's glower. "He needs to get out of the rentals, you know, find a real place. Not to mention ask that beautiful girl over there to marry him. You know, I don't know what she sees in him?"

Both Sam and Lynn were glaring at him now.

"Maybe you can talk some sense into him?" Dean said, giving Linda one of his devilish, heartbreaker grins. "He mentioned liking the neighborhood. Isn't that right, Sammy?"

Linda looked expectantly at Sam, who forced a smile. "That's right."

"He'd like to get himself a home around here," Dean went on. "We work together, you know. Family business."

"You're related?" Linda asked.

"Brothers," Dean explained. "And we're relocating the business to the area. Why don't you give him the old sales pitch, Linda? Bring him over to our side?"

Linda laughed. "Well, if he's interested…"

"Oh, he's very interested," Dean assured her. "Aren't you, Sam?"

Sam forced another smile. "Yep. I'm interested."

"Great," Dean smiled. "I'm going to go talk to Larry. Coming, honey?"

He looked expectantly at Jayne. "Yep," she said, smirking at Sam and Lynn. Obviously, she and Dean had somehow ended up on the same side again. Then Jayne gave Linda a farewell nod. "Nice meeting you."

Then Jayne and Dean disappeared in the direction Larry had gone, leaving Sam and Lynn alone with Linda, head of sales.

* * *

As soon as they were out of earshot of Linda Bloom, Jayne dug her elbow into Dean's side. Cussing with pain, he promptly removed his arm from her shoulders.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he growled under his breath as they approached the patio.

"First you married us, and now we're having three or four kids?" she hissed angrily.

"I said probably!"

"Do you have any idea where babies come from?" Jayne snapped. "I am not squeezing out four of those things!"

"Those things are called children," Dean retorted.

"I don't care! I am not having them!"

"You could have at least played along you know," he complained fiercely. "You didn't have to embarrass me with all that prattle about dogs."

"I like dogs!"

They were on the patio now, up against a wall of the house, and huddled away from the crowd so they could argue. Neither one of them seemed to notice the odd looks people were giving them.

"So do I," Dean returned. "But I'm not getting four of them!"

"Oh, but I can squeeze out four children, no problem!"

"I can't believe you don't want to have kids!"

"I can't believe you thought I wanted four!"

"You know what I can't believe?" Dean hissed. "I can't believe you embarrassed me in front of all those people. You could just have smiled and nodded!"

"Oh! Is that how you want it?" Jayne almost yelled. Then she frowned. "Wait. Why are we fighting?"

"Because you're a bitch," he retorted. "I can't believe I married you."

"Dean," she said sardonically. "You do realize we're not actually married, right?"

"I know that!" he snapped. "I just… I'm just… getting into character, that's all."

"Getting into character?" Jayne repeated. "What do you think this is, musical theatre?"

"Shut up," he said suddenly. "I see Larry. Try not to embarrass me, ok?"

"Oh, sure," she returned viciously. "I'll just sit and look pretty like a good trophy wife."

"That's all I ask," he smirked.

"If you thought I was a bitch before," Jayne informed him. "Just you wait, pal."

Dean brushed past her to intercept Larry, who was headed back out of his home. Jayne followed him, glaring daggers at his back. Oh, she was going to make him pay.

Larry was more than happy to give the two newlyweds a tour of his humble home. They started on the bottom floor, checking out the spacious, state of the art kitchen. Larry rambled on about countertop and flooring options. Then they headed upstairs to check out the bedrooms and baths.

"So I heard you guys had some bad luck out here," Dean said as they poked their heads inside the linen closet. "A gas company man? He died on the job of… what was it? Accelerated mad cow disease?"

Larry's face grew solemn. "Yes, Dustin Burwash. It was a real tragedy. I'm close with all my workers."

"That must have been tough," Jayne put in. "I hope you didn't lose anyone else."

"No," Larry said. "Just one man, when we first broke ground. It was about a year ago. One of our surveyors died on the job. Turns out he had a severe allergic reaction to bee stings."

Dean and Jayne exchanged looks. Larry resumed his tour, explaining about the different options for the whirlpool in the master bath.

"You hear that?" Dean asked her in an undertone.

Jayne nodded. "More bugs," she said. "First bees, now beetles…"

"This is just creepy," Dean murmured.

They fell silent, listening to Larry's babble. By the time the tour was finished and the three of them were heading downstairs again, Jayne was about ready to burn Larry's little slice of suburban paradise to the ground and put a bullet in her brain. She had never been so bored in her entire life. If she had to live in this place… well, again with the arson and the suicide.

As they came down the stairs, she caught sight of a cage on an end table housing a large spider. Beside the cage was a jar of crawling crickets.

"Whoa," Dean said beside her. He must have seen the same thing she had. "Somebody likes bugs."

Larry stopped and looked over in the direction his prospective buyers were staring. "My son," he explained. He sounded slightly embarrassed. "He likes… insects. He's very… inquisitive."

Dean nodded. Jayne felt bad for the kid, whoever he was. His father obviously wasn't thrilled about the insect thing. Before she could stop herself, her mouth was running. "Well, nothing wrong with that," she assured Larry. "Can't blame a kid for being inquisitive. Bet he's real bright."

At that, Larry cheered right up. "He's in an accelerated science class," he boasted proudly.

"Wow," Jayne said, feigning enthusiasm. "That's great. You must be proud."

Larry nodded. "Most days."

She grinned. "Yeah. Well, I hope he gets into a good school. And those bugs? It's kind of cool. I like bugs myself. Dean here, though," she whistled, clapping her so-called husband on the back. "He can't stand the things."

Dean glared at her. Larry looked interested. "Really?"

"Yeah, he freaks out if they come anywhere near him," she said, grinning good-naturedly. "He sees a spider, and suddenly he's on top of the table, screeching like one of those women in a 1950s film who just saw a mouse. It's hilarious."

Larry laughed. Dean's glare grew more dangerous. "Oh, honey, cheer up," she said, giving him a playful nudge in the side. "No one's judging you. We all know you're a man."

"I don't like bugs either," Larry said encouragingly.

Dean forced a smile at him.

"Well, let's go back out in the yard," Larry went on. "Get you two some of that barbecue."

"Sounds great," Jayne smiled at him.

Larry led the way out. Dean glared at her again. "I hate you," he announced.

Jayne smirked. "Warned you, didn't I?"

* * *

Sam was about ready to fall asleep. If he had to hear one more minute of Linda Bloom's sales pitch, he was going to throw himself off a building. He had never been so bored in his life. Beside him, Lynn too looked about ready to sleep on her feet. Apparently, Linda's little sales talk wasn't exactly thrilling for her either.

He forced himself to keep smiling at the woman as she rambled on about flooring, showers, and hot tubs. Then, just as he was about to slump over the picnic table they were leaning on and pass out from sheer boredom, he saw an out.

Behind Linda Bloom, crawling eagerly along the tabletop and towards the realtor's hand, was a huge, black, hairy tarantula.

"Excuse me," Sam said, gently shoving Linda aside.

The woman looked offended, and headed off.

Lynn frowned at him until she saw the tarantula. "Um… what is that?" she asked.

Sam concentrated on slowly easing the tarantula up onto his hand and gently lifting it off the table. "A tarantula," he replied. He glanced towards the other end of the table and found a young kid with messy brown hair, most likely about fifteen to sixteen years old, hiding his laughter behind his hand.

Sam approached him, tarantula in hand and Lynn on his heels. "This belong to you?" he asked.

The kid took the spider and retorted with a surly attitude, "Are you going to tell my Dad?"

"I don't know," Sam replied. "Who's your dad?"

The kid snorted. "Yeah. Larry usually skips me in the family introductions."

"Ouch," Sam said. He suddenly felt like he could relate to the high school student. "First name basis with the old man? Sounds pretty grim."

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly brochure material."

"Well, hang in there. It gets better. I promise."

The kid gave him a disbelieving look. "When?"

"Matthew!"

Sam looked up at the sharp cry. Larry was approaching the two of them angrily, giving his son a stern look. "I am so sorry about my son and his pet," he informed Sam.

Sam couldn't help but be cold to Larry. "It's no bother," he replied.

Larry hauled his son off across the yard to yell at him by the back door. Lynn watched them go and then frowned up at him. "What?" Sam asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. You just… seemed to know exactly what to say to that kid."

He smiled at her. "What's the matter? Jealous?" he asked jokingly. "Am I edging into your domain?"

Lynn smiled back at him, but he couldn't help feeling her smile was rather forced. "Not exactly," she replied.

"Hey," he heard his brother's voice say from behind him. Sam and Lynn looked up to find Dean and Jayne approaching them.

Sam smirked at his brother in greeting and angled his head in Larry's direction. "Remind you of somebody?" he asked.

Dean glanced over at Larry and Matt. "No."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dad?"

Dean frowned. "Dad never treated us like that."

"Well, Dad never treated _you_ like that," Sam replied. "You were perfect. He was all over my case."

Off to the side, he could see Jayne and Lynn shifting about uncomfortably. Dean was still looking at him blankly. "You don't remember?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "Well, maybe he had to raise his voice, but sometimes you were out of line."

Sam laughed bitterly. "Right. Like when I said I wanted to play soccer instead of learn bow hunting."

"Bow hunting's an important skill!"

Sam glanced over at Jayne and Lynn again. They were looking more uncomfortable by the minute. "Whatever," he said, changing the subject. "How was your tour?"

"Oh, it was excellent," Dean returned. "I'm ready to buy."

"Really?" Lynn asked slyly, rejoining their conversation. "And then have three or four kids?"

Both Dean and Jayne glared at her. "Don't forget the dogs," Sam added, smirking.

"I'm going to kill both of you," Jayne announced. "And that is not a joke."

"Yeah, and I'm going to help," Dean added.

"Aw, that's cute," Lynn said, grinning. "They're one of those married couples who still do things together."

"Would you like to walk to our next hunt?" Jayne snapped.

Lynn held up her hands in apology. Sam turned to Dean. "So," he asked. "Find anything out?"

* * *


	23. This Case is Lame

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to Nelle07, Constance Bleu, ThreeMoons, Lov3good, legrowl, Padme 4000, martine, tbelle1234, Jayne Darling, Penelope Dean Winchester, Little Rock'n'Roll Queen and deansbabygirl934 for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 23: This Case is Lame

They were squatting in an empty house.

Lynn had done many things in her life and spent the night in many strange places: no-tell motels, backwoods cabins, caves, the bed of Jayne's pickup… there was that one hunt in Minnesota where she'd spent the night in a crypt… but actually squatting in an empty house? Never done that… at least, not that she could remember.

Thing was, the whole squatting situation? It was actually pretty awesome. The house they'd picked wasn't furnished, so they were sleeping on their luggage, but both she and Jayne were prepared for that. What the place _did_ have was indoor plumbing, which was better than most of the cabins she'd frequented. It was definitely an improvement over the crypt.

In fact, the bathroom situation was better than just plain old indoor plumbing. There was a steam shower and a whirlpool tub. It was like staying in a five-star hotel – just, you know, without the bed. Lynn was pumped.

At the moment, the four of them were upstairs in one of the house's large bedrooms, sitting on the bare wood floor in a circle and rehashing the information they'd gotten about the Oasis Plains area.

"All right," Jayne was saying skeptically, raising her eyebrow at the older Winchester brother. "Let me see if I understand you: you think that Larry's kid, Mack…"

"Matt," Sam interrupted, sounding mildly irritated.

"Whatever. You think this Matt kid is controlling the insects in this neighborhood… like Willard."

"That's right, Goldilocks," Dean smirked.

She ignored the nickname. Lynn was surprised – at least, until her stepsister announced in a snotty tone, "So, what Dean? You think one of those big bad dung beetles decided Matt was getting too uppity and he was going to take over town, kill some people? Did they have a disagreement? Over Socrates the giant spider?"

"It's a tarantula," Sam informed her, mild irritation transforming to full blown annoyance.

"Or do we think Matt wanted the gas company man dead? Or the surveyor? And if so, what was the motive?"

Dean shrugged. "Hey, all I know is that Matt likes bugs. And the bugs here have been killing people. So…"

"So logically Matt must be the culprit?" Jayne sounded less than impressed with the so-called logic.

"Well, there was that incident at the picnic," Lynn spoke up. "He did try to scare the realtor with the tarantula."

"Thank you, Lynn," Dean said.

"That doesn't make him a serial killer with a mind-connection to bugs," Jayne retorted. "It makes him a punk kid playing what he thought was a funny joke."

"I don't know," Sam said slowly. "Matt didn't seem to get along with his father very well. It might not be about killing people, it might be about sabotaging his father's business venture."

Jayne rolled her eyes. "We're really sticking with the Willard theory? Matt Pike is the Bug Whisperer?"

"You got any better ideas?" Dean snapped.

"Hauntings can include bug manifestations…"

"Did you see any evidence of ghost activity around here?" Dean interrupted.

Jayne sighed, folding her arms over her chest. "No," she admitted.

"Neither did I," Sam said. "Neither did any of us. This might seem like a reach, but unless one of us has some evidence they haven't offered up yet…"

"We don't," Lynn said.

"Fine. Then it looks like, for right now, we're sticking with the Matt theory."

Jayne rolled her eyes again. "Really? An insect version of Willard? That's our case?" she sighed. "We need better bad guys."

"Yeah, laugh it up Goldie," Dean retorted. "We'll see how funny you think this is when you've got a butt load of hungry beetles chowing down your brain."

"At least I have a brain for them to chow down on," Jayne snapped. "If you get attacked by the Hungry, Hungry Beetles, they're going to starve to death in your empty skull."

"Hey now," Dean admonished. "Play nice, Goldilocks."

"All right," Lynn interrupted, feeling a migraine coming on. "This childish behavior isn't helping anyone."

"I agree," Sam added. "Now, we've been over the evidence ten million times, it's too late to question anymore of the locals, and all of us had a long drive in today. Let's just shut up and get some sleep."

No one argued with him. They broke the circle. Lynn grabbed her pillow and propped it up against her knapsack. She could hear her stepsister grumbling as Jayne dug out her own pillow from the pile of luggage in the corner of the bedroom and set up her own bed. Dean flopped down nearby, and Sam hit the lights.

Sighing heavily, Lynn closed her eyes and snuggled down into her pillow, hoping she'd manage to fall asleep.

* * *

"Hey. Goldilocks."

Jayne hadn't actually been sleeping. She never slept well to begin with – it would take at least an hour before she'd manage to pass out, and she had never slept through the night. Still, she couldn't help but be annoyed. First off, she was still pissed about the marriage incident of earlier that day; second, she didn't want to be called Goldilocks, and third off? It was hard enough for her to fall asleep without Dean Winchester hissing in her ear.

She lifted her head off of the pillow she'd propped against her duffel bag. Dean was lying on the hard wood floor of the bedroom, the light from the street cutting through the shade-less window and painting little lines on his face. "What the hell do you want?" she asked irritably.

"I'm bored."

Jayne glared at him. "You're supposed to be. It helps you fall asleep."

"Not working," he replied.

"Well, try harder," Jayne snapped under her breath. "I don't want the reaction time of the undead tomorrow morning. Go to sleep and leave me in peace."

"Can't," he said simply.

"Can't what? Sleep or leave me in peace?"

"Can't sleep."

"How is that my problem?"

"Hey, she's your sister."

"What?"

Dean gestured over at Lynn, who was snoring softly into her knapsack. "She snores."

Jayne raised an eyebrow. She hadn't noticed the quiet snores. They paled in comparison to what her stepsister usually put out at night. "You think that's bad?" she retorted. "You ain't heard nothing yet."

"It gets louder?"

"She's like a lumberjack," Jayne replied. "A lumberjack with a chainsaw, who's trying to saw down the whole damn forest."

Dean shuddered. "I feel like migrating down the hall."

"I would."

"Let's do it."

Jayne frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Let's migrate down the hall," he elaborated. "Quick, before it gets louder."

"You want to go sleep in another room, and you're inviting me along?" Jayne asked incredulously.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Goldilocks."

"I'm not going down the hall with you."

"You're the one who wants to sleep so damn bad."

Lynn let loose a particularly loud snore. Jayne glanced over at her stepsister and grimaced. "All right, fine."

The two of them gathered their stuff and snuck quietly out of the room. Jayne glanced around before she left and couldn't help noticing Sam's absence.

"Where's your brother?" she asked in a whisper as they headed towards another bedroom.

Dean shrugged. "Hell if I know. Probably out for a walk, or reading, or listening to the police scanner. Something like that."

Jayne raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't he the one who wanted to go to sleep?"

"He just said that to shut us up," Dean replied. "Sam doesn't sleep."

Jayne's eyebrow raised itself higher. "Ever?"

"Well, sure he sleeps sometimes," Dean returned, his tone indicating he thought she was a moron. "It's usually an accident."

"Why doesn't he sleep?"

Dean shrugged again. "Nightmares."

"Nightmares?"

"Yeah. He has them." The reply was short and succinct.

The two of them entered another bedroom and set up camp on the wooden floor. "Why?" she asked.

"How would I know?" Dean retorted. Then he sighed and shrugged a third time. "It's the job, I guess. I mean, he took some time off and it's taking a while to get used to it again. Sometimes the job gets to you. You know what I'm talking about."

To be perfectly honest, Jayne did know what he was talking about, but she wasn't sure she could directly relate. The job had never really gotten to her, actually. The job was fine. It was watching what the job did to people she loved that got her. Hell, watching what plain old normal life did to them was enough.

"So you sleep great then?" she asked dryly.

"Sure do," he smirked. "Except when your stepsister's snoring in my ear."

Jayne rolled her eyes. "You're lucky you don't live with her."

She lay down on the floor, fluffing her pillow and scrunching it up between her head and her duffel. Then she rolled over, facing away from Dean and closed her eyes.

"What about you?" Dean asked.

Jayne sighed. This was going to be a really long night. "What about me?"

"How do you sleep?"

"Not so well when you're chattering away in my ear."

"You were already awake when I started my chattering," he retorted rather smugly. "That normal?"

Jayne shrugged, still facing away from him. "I don't sleep well," she replied simply.

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Job related?"

"Nah. Just don't. Never have. I'm probably a what you call it – insomniac. Should check out that Lunesta shit or something."

"Insomniac?"

"No, not really. It's not that bad. Just takes me a while to get to sleep. And it takes even longer when some idiot won't stop talking to me."

Dean ignored the snipe. "What about nightmares?"

"I don't have nightmares."

"Never?"

"Nope." She sighed harshly. "Can we stop talking about this? I actually do want to go to bed here."

"Yeah, whatever."

She heard the beeping of Dean's cell phone as he fussed with some of the buttons. "What are you doing?" she asked, irritated.

"Setting an alarm. Get a grip."

Jayne kind of wanted to get a grip on Dean's neck. She also kind of wanted to keep having their inane and occasionally childish conversation. But she didn't do either. She closed her eyes, attempting once again to get some sleep.

There was something odd here – and no, Jayne didn't mean the killer bugs. She meant Dean and her. Something was odd between them, she decided. They couldn't stop bickering most of the time, but when it was… Jayne checked her own cell phone and cursed silently… two in the morning and they were bored and restless, what did they do? Dean didn't go track down his already wide awake brother. Jayne didn't wake up her snoring stepsister – or attempt to smother her in her sleep. No, they started talking to one another. It was true that they'd made an agreement to be civil – an agreement that wasn't holding up very well – but that agreement didn't mean they had to keep one another company in the wee hours of the morning.

Why did she have this horrible sinking feeling that somehow, when she hadn't been paying attention, she and Dean Winchester had accidentally become friends?

* * *

Sunlight streamed in through the uncovered windows in the brand new but unfurnished home. Sam yawned, wishing he had some coffee. He'd go get some, but he didn't want to risk getting caught by a neighbor when he came back.

The shower he'd taken had helped some. He dried his hair and then wrapped his towel around his waist. After shaving and brushing his teeth, Sam made his way down the bright hall of the house and back towards the room they'd all been sharing.

He blinked in surprise upon opening the door. Sometime during the night, Jayne and Dean had bailed. Both of them were gone, and so was their stuff. Lynn was still curled up against her luggage fast asleep. Her cell phone alarm was going off and she was ignoring it. Like, completely ignoring it. She wasn't even moving to hit snooze or turn the thing off. She was just sleeping right on through "Thanks for the Memories."

The phone stopped on its own. Sam unzipped his duffel bag and started digging for a change of clothes. About five minutes passed, and Lynn's cell phone started up again.

Sam raised an eyebrow, tossing a shirt, boxers, and a pair of jeans on top of the pile of luggage in the corner of the room. Again, the alarm played all the way through, and again Lynn slept right through it, showing no signs of life.

Mildly amused, Sam resumed his digging, trying to find his deodorant. He'd just found the bottle and was rolling it on under his arms when the alarm went off again. And once again, Lynn ignored it.

He was pulling his boxers on under his towel when it happened a fourth time. Finally, annoyed out of his mind, he shouted, "Lynn! Wake up!"

She made a surprised, confused little squeak, lifting her head without opening her eyes, and then fell back against the pillow, still not tending to the alarm.

Sam marched over to her, turned off the cell phone alarm, and kicked the bag under her pillow. "Wake up!" he ordered.

That time, she half sat up, blinking. "What?" she asked, sounding confused.

"Wake up," he repeated. "If I have to hear that Fall Out Boy song one more time, I'm going to throw that phone out the window."

Lynn made the most peculiar sound. It was a cross between a squeak, a sigh, and a groan. She scratched at her messy hair, squinting around the room, and then stared at her pillow. Sam was still incredibly annoyed, but some small stupid part of him actually thought that, at the moment, she was kind of cute.

Still annoying, though.

"Lynn!"

"I don't… yeah… ok…"

She still looked confused as she stumbled to her feet. Then she gathered up some shower stuff and started tripping towards the door. Suddenly, she stopped, wide awake, and stared at his bare chest.

Sam looked down at his still towel wearing self. Sure, he had boxers on now, but no one could tell.

"Why are you…you're all…" Lynn gestured at his bare chest, frowning.

"I, uh... just got… out of the shower," he informed her, stumbling over his words a little. Suddenly, he was very aware of his half-nakedness and the fact that Lynn was a girl.

"Oh," she murmured. Then, looking him up and down, she turned to the door and staggered out into the hallway.

Sam frowned, a small chortle escaping his lips. He suddenly felt… very objectified. And he kind of liked it. He also felt really embarrassed about the stuttering. Way to play it like he was still in high school.

Sighing, Sam let the towel drop and started getting dressed.

* * *

The first few strains of "Smoke on the Water" began pounding in Dean's ear. He ignored it, burying his face deeper in the pillow.

"Dean."

That sounded like a girl voice. He frowned into his pillow, trying to place where he was.

The alarm kept going off. "Dean," the voice came again.

He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. Whoever she was, he was not in the mood to deal with her at this ungodly hour in the morning.

"Hey. Asshole."

Dean's eyes flew open. Suddenly, he was lucid. Right. He was squatting in an empty house in Oasis Plains, Oklahoma. The girl in the room was Jayne Gibson. He knew this because she was calling him an asshole.

"What?" he snapped.

"Turn off your fucking alarm, or I am going to turn it off for you."

"That'd be nice of you."

"You might be singing a different tune when you're picking cell phone pieces out of the tree outside the window."

Dean groaned again, shutting off the alarm on his phone and blinking at the screen. It was seven in the morning.

"Too early," he announced.

Jayne grunted. She rolled over, her back facing him again, and appeared to go back to sleep.

Dean decided she'd had worse ideas. He rolled over too, preparing to do the same.

The door to the room flew open, slamming into the wall. "There you are," he heard his brother say into the room.

He groaned again. "What do you want, Sam?"

"It's seven in the morning. Wake up."

"No."

"Dean, get your ass up right now."

"Make me."

"Dean…"

"Sam…"

"Someone leave," Jayne grumbled, not looking up at either of them. "Because I am not listening to this argument right now."

"You should probably get up too," Sam informed her.

"Bite me."

"Well said," Dean added.

"Dean, we have a lot of work to do today… not to mention we need to somehow sneak out of this house before the neighbors wake up and see us squatting here."

"There's no neighbors," Dean retorted. "Most of these houses aren't even finished yet."

"Get. Up."

Dean sat up and glared balefully at his brother.

"Thank you," Sam said. "Lynn will be out of the shower in a few minutes. You better get in right after her."

"Yes, Mom," Dean snapped.

Sam left.

Grumbling, Dean got to his feet and gathered his shower stuff. "You getting up?" he asked.

"Wake me when you're done," Jayne replied, burying her face back in her pillow.

Dean shrugged and headed out into the hall. As he stepped through the door, he nearly ran smack into Lynn, headed back to the room she'd slept in, dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel.

He blinked. She raised an eyebrow. He smirked. "Good morning," he greeted her.

Her eyebrow remained raised. "Good morning," she replied. Then she blew past him, continuing her walk down the hall.

Dean let his eyes follow her as she walked away, taking in her half naked and well formed body, and then shrugged, heading off to take his own shower.

* * *

Sam looked up from his research as Lynn entered, still in her towel. "Hey," he greeted her.

"Hi," she replied quietly, giving him a small smile. She headed over to her duffel bag and started pulling out clothes.

"Sorry," he found it necessary to say. "About earlier. I just…"

"It's cool," Lynn interrupted, laughing a little. "Jayne screams at me all the time. Apparently I'm the only person in the world who can sleep through her alarm going off every five minutes for two whole hours."

"Two hours?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrow. "Impressive."

"And it's not even my record," Lynn smirked.

"Jayne's the early riser?" Sam couldn't help sounding skeptical.

Lynn snorted. "The only thing Jayne has on me is that she actually turns her alarm off. Between the two of us, we're lucky to make check-out time most days."

Sam laughed. Lynn turned from her duffel bag, clothes and deodorant in hand. Sam turned back to the documents in front of him, giving her some privacy.

"Where is she?" Lynn asked as she changed. "Jayne, I mean. I saw Dean heading for the shower, but…"

"Probably still asleep," Sam replied, rolling his eyes.

"Where?"

"In the bedroom down the hall. That's where I found her and Dean this morning."

Lynn snorted a second time. "Guess I was snoring again."

Sam laughed. Lynn, now dressed, came over to his corner of the room and sat down beside the police scanner, grabbing one of the files in front of him. "You snore?" he asked.

She nodded. "Big time."

Sam laughed again. "Didn't you notice?" Lynn asked.

"I, um…" Sam tried to think how to explain that he hadn't been in the bedroom last night either.

Lynn frowned at him. "What?"

"I slept downstairs. Just kind of fell asleep by accident while I was giving some of these papers a last minute read through."

She nodded slowly. Sam could tell she didn't believe him. Well, that was too damn bad, he thought sullenly, because it's none of her business whether or not I stay up all night. It's not like she's my mother.

He shifted guiltily under her hard gaze. Then Lynn shrugged, dismissing the subject. "Whatever."

Sam tried to focus on the papers in front of him, half an ear listening to the scanner. Lynn furrowed her brow at her own handful of research. "So are we really going with this Willard theory?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't see any other option."

"I know, I just… well, Jayne has a point. It's dumb."

Sam laughed. "I'm sorry our bad guys aren't up to your standards."

"I'm just saying."

They lapsed into silence as they continued to look over the research and listen to the police scanner.

"Hello? Hello, I need an ambulance at 405 Whitburo Dr. There's a woman, she… she's… I think she's dead. Oh god…"

Lynn and Sam looked up from their notes and frowned at each other. Sam leaned in closer to the police scanner as the dispatcher tried to calm the man on the other end. "What was the address?" Sam murmured.

"405 Whitburo Dr."

"That's three blocks from here."

They sat for a moment. "We need to go check it out," Sam said finally.

Lynn nodded her agreement.

Sam sighed, looking at his watch. "It's been awhile since Dean got in the shower. He should be finished. I'll got get him and Jayne."

"All right," Lynn murmured skeptically.

Sam wondered what her skepticism was all about. Did she know something he didn't? Pondering that question, Sam left Lynn in the bedroom and wandered down the hall to the bathroom. He could hear the shower running from the other side of the door. "Jayne?" he asked, knocking on the door.

"No, sorry!"

Dean. Damn it. "Dean!" Sam thundered.

"What?"

"Are you ever getting out of there?"

There was a pause. Then Dean opened the bathroom door slightly, poking out his towel-turbaned head. "This shower is awesome."

"Hurry up," Sam growled.

"Calm down…"

"Dean, a police call came in on the scanner. Someone was found dead three blocks from here, now come on."

"All right, all right."

Dean shut the door. "Where's Jayne?" Sam called to him.

"Huh? Oh, I'm supposed to wake her up when I'm finished."

"What?!"

"It'll be fine, Sam. I just need five more minutes, and then I'll get her up."

"What part of someone was found dead three blocks from here don't you get, Dean?"

"Dude…"

"You know what, screw it!" Sam snapped, cutting his brother off. "Lynn and I will just go check it out without you."

"Sammy…"

"No. It's too late."

"Could you be a bigger woman?"

"I'm leaving!"

Dean grumbled something Sam didn't quite catch. It didn't matter though. Thoroughly annoyed at his brother, Sam marched back down the hall and stormed inside the bedroom.

Lynn looked up from her notes with a knowing grin. "Dean still in the shower?"

"Yeah," Sam bit out. "And your stepsister's still asleep."

She nodded, looking back down at her research. "Yeah. Welcome to my world."

"We're leaving. You and me. Let's go," Sam practically ordered.

"We are?"

"Yeah. Let's move."

Sam gathered up all the things he needed and threw his coat on. Lynn blinked at him.

"Now, Lynn!"

Surprised at his tone, Lynn's eyes went wide and she scrambled to her feet, grabbing what she needed to leave as well. once they were both ready to go, Sam led the way down the hall to the other bedroom, tiptoed around the still sleeping Jayne and snagged Dean's keys from his coat pocket. The two of them headed back out into the hallway and made a beeline for the stairs.

In the bathroom, the shower was still running.

Rolling his eyes, Sam led the way downstairs and into the garage. Both he and Lynn squeezed around Jayne's pick up and picked their way over to the Impala. Lynn crawled in the passenger seat, and Sam muscled up the garage door before sliding in behind the wheel.

He backed out the car, parked in the drive, and then got out to close the garage door again. Then he got back in the car and drove off down the street.

"Look for Whitburo," he ordered Lynn.

"Ok," she muttered. "You don't have to yell."

Sam blinked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "Am I yelling?"

"Big time," Lynn replied. "Along with the stomping, and the grumbling, and the angry brooding eyeballs."

He sighed. "Sorry. It's just… I have to put up with this all the time."

"Me too," she reassured him. "Although, sometimes it's me putting Jayne through all this."

Sam laughed quietly. "You guys switch on and off?"

"Pretty much."

He laughed again. "There," Lynn said suddenly, pointing to the right. "Whitburo Dr."

Sam turned, driving down the street. "Watch the addresses," he said.

Lynn did as asked. "Found it. 405, on your left."

"Yeah, the cop cars are a bit of a giveaway," Sam said dryly.

She gave him a dirty look.

Sam pulled over to the side of the road, parking with the wheel against the curb. He shut the Impala down and stepped out into the street, snatching an umbrella from behind the seat. It was raining pretty hard that morning.

Lynn followed his example. They found Larry Pike standing at the side of the road, talking on his cell phone, as the cops milled around the scene.

He looked up at their approach. "Hello," he greeted them, hanging up his phone. "You're back early."

"Yeah," Lynn smiled. "You and your team were pretty convincing yesterday. Thought we'd get an early start, take a drive around the neighborhood. We might like it here."

"What's going on?" Sam asked bluntly.

He could feel Lynn's piercing gaze, but he ignored her. She was blunt all the time, so he wasn't exactly worried about whether or not she approved his approach. Larry sighed heavily.

"You met Linda Bloom, at the barbecue?"

"The realtor?" Sam asked for clarification's sake.

Larry nodded. "Well, she passed away last night."

Sam wasn't exactly surprised by the news, but he faked it. Lynn sucked in a breath beside him. "That's awful," she murmured. "I'm so sorry."

Larry mustered up a smile for her. "What happened?" Sam wanted to know.

He felt another piercing gaze from Lynn directed at his profile. Larry shook his head. "Still trying to find out. I identified the body for the police, but…" He glanced up, seeing one of the officers waving at him from the front porch of Linda Bloom's house. "I'm sorry, this isn't a good time," he murmured apologetically.

"It's ok," Sam assured him.

Larry headed towards the police officer. Lynn looked up at Sam. "So… I guess this means we're going in?" she asked.

Sam nodded. "Yep," he agreed. "We're going in."

* * *

'Going in' had consisted of Lynn and Sam leaping up over the backyard fence, climbing a trellis that barely supported their weight, and shimmying through the open window into Linda Bloom's master bedroom. Once inside, they found the tape outline of Linda's body directly inside the room, almost under the window they'd just climbed in.

Lynn wrinkled her nose, stepping over the tape outline and examining the room she found herself in. It was dim and gray, managing to look depressing despite the careful consideration that must have gone into decorating the room just so with all the latest and most expensive materials.

Sam clambered in the window right after she did, and cast a look around the place as well. Lynn, standing before the open in-suite bathroom door, could see straight into the bathroom where the glass door to the shower had been completely shattered.

"She was trying to get away from something," Lynn announced, taking in the blood splattered on the bathroom tiles. The blood stains formed a trail from the broken shower to the body outline on the carpeted bedroom floor.

Sam stepped over the outline and stood just behind her, checking out the scene. "Looks like," he agreed.

They moved in the direction of the bathroom. Lynn crossed over the threshold of the bathroom door, taking a few steps into the room. There was a small cream colored washcloth stained with blood lying on the cool green floor tiles. Linda must have used it to staunch the flow of blood from her injuries. There was no way she'd fallen through the shower glass unscathed.

Lynn picked the washcloth up off the floor. Several tiny, dead black spiders tumbled to the ground.

She wrinkled her nose. "Ew."

"She must have been bit," Sam murmured. "Several times. That's how she died."

Lynn nodded her agreement. "Great. So I guess this means we have a definite link to Matt."

Sam nodded too. "Yeah," he murmured. "He did try to scare her with a spider at the picnic."

Lynn sighed, straightening. "Should I call Jayne, or are you going to call your brother?"

"I'll call Dean," Sam replied.

"Ok." Lynn squeezed past him, headed for the door. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

Dean stepped inside the room he'd slept in, still wrapped up in towels. Jayne lay on the floor, fast asleep. He sighed and started yanking clothes out of his bag, trying to make as much noise as possible. Jayne didn't even stir.

He got dressed quickly, ran his hand through his damp hair, and then bent down next to Jayne. "Hey, wake up," he said.

There was literally no response from her. Rolling his eyes, Dean grabbed her shoulder and gave it a shake, saying, "Rise and shine, Goldilocks! Come on, let's go! Get up!"

Groaning, Jayne rolled over, glowering at him over her shoulder. "Jackass."

"You told me to wake you up."

She grumbled, sitting up. Dean stood up. "Don't rush," he smirked.

Jayne got to her feet and grabbed her bag. "How long were you in that shower?"

"It wasn't that long," Dean replied. He winced, noticing how defensive he sounded. It really hadn't been that long. Really. Stupid Sam. "Sam and Lynn left to check out a police call on the scanner. Some lady was found dead in her house."

"Great," Jayne muttered, heading for the door. "Taking a shower."

"Ok."

She left the room. Dean headed over into the room where they'd left the police scanner and the research and took a seat, sighing rather petulantly.

Stupid Sam had taken the Impala.

Dean went back over the research, despite his feelings that it was a waste of time. He was fairly certain that they were dealing with some sort of psychic killer, who had somehow figured out how to control the area's insects. He was also fairly certain that said psychic killer was Matt Pike, the bitter and isolated son of Larry Pike, developer.

Still, he couldn't help going back over the research, wondering if there was something he'd missed. What Jayne had said the night before had really stuck with him; the solution to this case was lame.

He hated cases that turned out lame.

After about fifteen minutes of rifling through the research, he heard the door open. Looking up, he saw Jayne enter the room, wearing her usual jeans and flannel. Her hair was still dripping wet.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Looking over the research," he replied.

"Why? Thought we were going with the Willard theory." She snorted, shaking her head. "Willard."

"Yeah, I know," Dean retorted. "I'm just making sure."

They fell into silence. Jayne took a seat on the floor nearby. "So… if Matt Pike really is controlling the homicidal insects… how do we stop him?"

Dean shrugged. "Same way we stop anything."

"Kill him?"

"Yeah."

She didn't reply right away. Dean looked up and found her watching him. "What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You not ok with that?"

"Never said that."

"Yeah. You didn't say anything. Silence usually means someone's not ok with that," Dean returned, setting down the paper in his hand. "You going to give me the whole 'we can't kill him; he's human; it's wrong' speech?"

"Nope," Jayne replied.

He blinked. "Nope?"

"Nope," she repeated. "If this really is Matt's doing, then I agree. One of us is putting a bullet in his brain."

Dean blinked again, not sure how to take her response. "Really?"

"Why are you so surprised I agree with you?"

He snorted. "Well… first of all, you never agree with me," he announced. Jayne actually laughed at this comment. "Second of all… I don't know. I thought you'd put up more of a fight. I mean… Sam would have argued."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But you don't…?"

Jayne shrugged. "If he's out there killing innocent people, he gets put six feet under," she informed him. "As far as I'm concerned, he's evil. He's no different than anything else I hunt."

"Wow," Dean murmured. "Here I thought I was the weird one. But nope – looks like that honor goes to Sam."

She smiled slightly. "What about Lynn?" Dean asked curiously. "What would she say?"

"She'd shoot him too," Jayne replied. "That's one thing the two of us are on the same wavelength about."

"Really?" he asked again. "Because, well… she's got a lot in common with Sam. And I just figured…"

"Yeah," Jayne interrupted. "Lynn has a lot in common with Sam. She's also very different from Sam. The more you get to know her, well… I think you'll find she's a lot more complicated than most people think."

"No arguments there," Dean smirked. "Lynn's definitely complicated."

Jayne smirked back. "I guess Sam's just more sensitive," she mused. "More idealistic. Spent too much time as a civvie to fall right back into the hunt."

"Maybe," Dean murmured. "But I don't know. He was always different than me and my dad. A lot of it is just… well, I think it's just his nature."

"Or he at least wishes it was his nature," she replied, staring unfocused at the wall across from her. She sounded thoughtful.

Dean frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

She looked up at him, surprised. Dean decided maybe she hadn't meant that to be as offensive as it had sounded. "Nothing," she replied, sounding genuinely as though her comment had meant nothing. "I don't really know piss about Sam. I was just thinking out loud."

They were quiet again. Suddenly, Dean's cell phone went off. Dean snatched it up off the ground and flipped it open. "Yeah?"

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded from the other end.

"What?"

"The woman found dead… it was Linda Bloom."

He frowned. "Who?"

His brother sighed, sounding exasperated. "Linda Bloom, from the barbecue. She's head of sales in Larry's company?"

"Oh yeah," Dean replied. "Semi-attractive brunette. I remember now."

"She's dead, Dean. You could at least try for respect."

"Yeah, whatever. So, Linda's dead…?"

"Yep. Guess how?"

"Bugs?"

"Bugs. Well, spiders, actually."

"Spiders?"

"Yeah. A whole bunch of the things."

"Well that's… gross."

"Tell me about it."

"I guess that settles it," Dean mused. "Must have been Larry's kid. Spider boy."

"Matt," Sam snapped. "Yeah, I guess so."

"So now what?"

"Lynn and I are going to do some more research. We'll be back soon. The high school should let out around three. Then the four of us can try to confront him when he gets off the bus."

"All right. Sounds like a plan."

"You and Jayne could poke around the neighborhood or something. Maybe research a way to stop Matt?"

"What, like kill him?"

Sam sighed. "No, not like kill him."

"Sammy…"

"Just do it, ok?"

"Fine," Dean grumbled. "See you later."

"Bye."

Sam hung up. Dean followed suit. "Sam's already decided we're not killing Matt," Dean announced.

Jayne shrugged. "How does he think we're going to stop him?"

"I don't know. Find some way to take his powers or something?"

She sighed. "Well… I guess that's one way to do it."

"We could do some research."

"Ok." Jayne grabbed her coat and fished Janis's keys out of her pocket. "Let's do this."

* * *


	24. Bugs

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to ThreeMoons, Padme4000, angeleyenc, legrowl, and Little Rock'n'Roll Queen for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 24: Bugs

Lynn leaned her forehead against the back window of Dean's Impala, trying to get comfortable in the ancient seat. Dirt yards, half built houses, and construction equipment passed on by as they drove down the street.

It was a little after three in the afternoon. A day's worth of research had turned up practically nothing. While Jayne and Dean had spent the majority of the day at the library, trying to learn more about whatever psychic powers Matt had, Lynn had driven around town with Sam, asking around about the high school student. They had checked out his school records, his doctor's records, interviewed teachers and guidance counselors… nothing. As far as anyone could tell them, Matt Pike was a normal kid. Bit brighter than most, but otherwise completely normal.

Now the four of them were reunited, all piled in Dean's Impala. Lynn and Jayne had taken over the backseat, while Dean had resumed control over the steering wheel. Sam sat beside his brother. They were driving around Oasis Plains, trying to find Matt's bus stop.

They had begun to leave the half built houses behind. The scenery began to progress back to its wild roots as they reached what was still undeveloped land. Suddenly, Dean pulled his Impala up alongside the curb and shifted into park, letting the car idle at the corner.

Lynn looked up, curious about the stop. Through the windshield she could see a yellow school bus across the intersection, stopped at the corner to let off its students. Matt Pike was the only one to step off the bus.

He crossed the street, not even looking towards the housing development that both the bus and the Impala were parked at the end of, and instead headed into a nearby thicket.

The school bus rumbled back to life and took off down the road. "Isn't his house that way?" Dean asked the other three occupants of his car, pointing in the opposite direction Matt had headed.

"Yep," Sam replied.

"Well, where's he going?"

Sam didn't reply. He just got out of the car.

Sighing, Dean turned the key in the ignition, shutting the engine down. He got out of the car next. Lynn exchanged a look with her stepsister, who only shrugged. The two of them got out of the car as well, following the Winchesters across the road.

The four hunters crept after Matt into the brush. "Did you and Dean find a way to stop this kid without shooting him?" Lynn asked her stepsister, doing her best not to be overheard by the boys.

Jayne shook her head grimly, her mouth set in a grim line. "Nope."

Lynn sighed. "Sam doesn't want to kill the kid," she said.

Jayne shrugged. "Then I don't know how he plans to stop this. It's either kill the kid, or let more innocent people kick it."

Privately, Lynn agreed with Jayne's bleak outlook. "I don't know either. I don't even know if it's really Matt. I mean, we're operating on pretty circumstantial evidence here."

Jayne nodded. "Yep."

"We better make damn sure the kid's responsible before we go pulling any triggers," Lynn went on.

Jayne nodded again. "Agreed."

They lapsed into silence, still following along behind the Winchesters. Finally, they reached a small clearing, and found Matt, a mason jar in hand, watching intently as a large stick insect crept slowly along the other arm.

Lynn crinkled her nose. Exactly why he was letting that thing crawl on him was beyond her.

"Hey, Matt," Sam greeted the teenager. "Remember me?"

The kid looked up in surprise at the four hunters, frowning in confusion. "What are you doing out here?"

"Well, we want to talk to you," Dean replied. Lynn raised her eyebrow at the other hunter, but he didn't turn her way. She considered that terribly unfortunate, seeing as he was being incredibly creepy, and someone needed to inform him.

"You're not here to buy a house, are you?" Matt said. "Wait – you're not serial killers…?"

See, this was exactly why someone needed to tell Dean he was being creepy.

Lynn looked over at her stepsister, who raised an eyebrow at her, clearly amused by Matt's anxiety. "No," Sam answered Matt, laughing. "No, I think you're safe."

"Definitely," Lynn added, giving the boy a smile. "We're mostly harmless."

"So, Matt," Dean spoke. "You sure know a lot about insects."

"So?"

"Did you hear what happened to Linda? The realtor?"

"I heard she died this morning."

"That's right," Dean smirked. "Spider bites."

"Matt," Sam spoke up, making eye contact with the teenager. "At the picnic, you tried to scare her with a spider."

Matt blinked, taken aback. "Wait, you think I had something to do with this?" he exclaimed.

"You tell us," Dean replied.

"That tarantula was a joke!" Matt defended himself. "Anyway, that wouldn't explain the bee attack or the gas company guy."

Lynn perked at the mention of the other two bug-related incidents. How had Matt known about that? Suddenly, Dean's lame idea was starting to look a lot more plausible.

Her stepsister spoke what Lynn was thinking. "Wow, Matt," Jayne said, her expression unfriendly as she appraised him. "You sure seem to know an awful lot about this."

Matt looked at her and swallowed under the hard look he received. Realizing he'd done little to clear his name, at least in the case of Jayne, he quickly pushed forward with, "I've been studying the insects in the area for my AP science class. I've noticed a few things. There were beetles in that sinkhole the gasman fell into. I have samples back at home."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Lynn remembered Sam saying he'd only found ten beetles at the site of Dustin Burwash's death. Maybe Matt had the rest.

"And after Linda," he went on. "I remembered about the surveyor who got stung to death back when Dad first broke ground. Look, something _is_ going on out here with the insects. But I'm not doing it."

The four hunters exchanged looks and then gave Matt a once over. "Here," Matt said, sliding the walking stick into the Mason jar he carried and then hefting his book bag up onto his shoulder. "I'll show you."

Matt began walking deeper into the woods, and the four hunters followed him. As they walked along, it occurred to Lynn that if Matt really was behind all those deaths, following him deeper into his forest lair was a really dumb idea… but she swallowed the fear and kept moving. Something about the kid's earnest expression had won her over to his side. He was familiar, in a comforting way.

He reminded her of Sam.

"So if you know about what's going on," Sam spoke suddenly as they stomped through the undergrowth. "Why didn't you tell your Dad? Maybe he could clear everybody out of here."

Lynn turned to Matt, awaiting his response. It was a good question.

"Believe me, I tried," Matt replied. "Larry doesn't listen to me."

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"Mostly? He's too disappointed in his freak son."

Sam sighed. "I hear you."

He did?

"You do?" Dean asked, echoing Lynn's thoughts exactly.

Sam ignored his brother. "How old are you, Matt?"

"Sixteen."

"Well, don't sweat it, because in two years something great is going to happen."

Matt snorted. "What?"

"College," Sam said. "You'll be able to get out of that house and away from your Dad."

Lynn frowned at the remark, not sure if she liked where Sam was going with this. Apparently, Dean wasn't happy about Sam's comment either. "What kind of advice is that?" Dean spoke up, his voice even deeper than usual. The drop in pitch made his irritation clear. "The kid should stick with his family."

It sounded like the Winchester boys were teetering on the verge of an argument. Lynn glanced over at her stepsister, raising an eyebrow. Jayne's response was to simply roll her eyes at both Sam and Dean, making her opinion on the subject obvious; both boys were idiots, and she had no interest in getting involved.

Lynn wished she could have that kind of apathy.

Sam stopped in his tracks. So did Matt. As Matt, Lynn, and Jayne watched, Sam and Dean stared off. Sam's brows furrowed and he glared at his brother as if to say Dean was an insensitive prig. Dean stared back, his tongue in his cheek, looking at Sam expectantly. 'You want to go?' the look seemed to say. 'Then let's go.'

Finally, Sam turned away from Dean. He followed Matt off into the woods. Dean glowered after him and then started walking again too.

Lynn fell into step beside her stepsister once more. "I'm starting to feel like I'm intruding on some great big awkward family reunion," Lynn muttered.

Jayne snorted. "Yeah. They've got their issues don't they?"

"Yeah," Lynn replied ruefully. "Then again, I guess we do too."

Jayne didn't reply. They continued the hike in silence.

Soon, they reached a clearing in the wood. Lynn immediately wrinkled her nose when she saw what they'd stumbled into.

The air around them was filled with a deafening buzzing noise. Lynn gave her head a shake, batting a fly away from her ear. All around them swarmed hundreds of flying insects; flies, bees, beetles, locusts… it was disgusting, and Lynn wanted no part of it.

They walked further into the clearing. The swarming insects grew thicker as they progressed, assaulting their ears and faces. Lynn slapped a mosquito with the nerve to land on her neck.

"I've been keeping track of insect populations," Matt explained. "For that science class I was telling you about. That's how I noticed what was going on around here."

"Wow," Dean muttered. "You and Sam are like peas in a pod."

Sam glared at Dean. Lynn winced. Jayne, again, rolled her eyes.

"What's been happening?" Sam asked Matt.

"A lot," Matt replied. "From bees to earthworms, beetles… you name it. It's like they're congregating here."

"Why?" Dean asked.

Matt shrugged. "I don't know."

"What's that?" Sam asked suddenly.

Before anyone could answer, Sam had taken off across the clearing. The other four followed close behind him as they approached some strange dirt mound in the center of the clearing. When they stopped nearby, they could see the mound was crawling with ants and earthworms.

Lynn wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Ew," she announced.

Dean stepped forward and tapped the top of the mound with the toe of his boot. The dirt and earthworms at the top fell through to the bottom, proving the mound to be hollow.

Dean looked over his shoulder at the rest of them. Then he knelt before the mound, grabbed a nearby stick, and began poking around inside the hole. Lynn watched the other three move closer. Jayne even knelt down beside the elder Winchester. Lynn, however, didn't join them. She kept a safe distance from the ants and the worms that Dean was digging through.

Ants were gross. Lynn wasn't going anywhere near them.

"There's something down there," Dean told them.

He tossed the stick aside and cast a pointed look at Jayne. "What?" she asked.

"After you," he smirked.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Don't be a dick."

"What's the matter?" Dean asked, sticking his hand down into the hole and feeling around for the aforementioned object. "Scared?"

"Of earthworms?" Jayne retorted, unimpressed. "Yeah. You got me. I'm terrified."

"Whoa," Dean murmured suddenly, frowning. "What the hell…?"

He withdrew his hand from the hole. Dangling from his fingertips was a human skull.

"Oh, wow," Sam murmured.

"Told you," Jayne smirked.

"That doesn't prove this place is haunted," Sam informed her.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Then what's your diagnosis, Sam?"

Sam sighed, frowning. "I don't know."

"Whoa," Matt spoke up. "What do you mean, haunted?"

Lynn looked over at the teenager. He was watching them with one freaked out expression – more freaked out than his expression had been when he'd asked if they were serial killers. "Um, this might sound weird," she informed him. "But… we hunt ghosts."

Matt blinked. "You're right," he said. "That does sound weird."

Dean peered into the mound. "I think there's more down here," he announced. "It looks like… like a mass grave."

"Mass grave?" Jayne repeated. "That's grounds for some seriously pissed off spirits."

"We don't know that there's any spirits here," Sam said again.

Jayne gave him a nasty look over her shoulder. "So, what, Sam? Are you just going to disagree with everything I say now?"

"All right," Lynn spoke up. "A mass grave might suggest an Indian burial ground, or possibly even a massacre."

"We should get the bones looked at," Sam announced. "Matt, are there any colleges in the area?"

"Uh… there's a community college the next town over…"

"They have an anthropology department?" Dean asked.

"I think so…"

"Ok." Dean turned to Sam. "There's a box in the Impala. Go get it, and we'll take these bones out of here."

Sam nodded. "I'll go with him," Lynn said hastily, crinkling her nose at the mound once again.

"What's the matter, Lynn?" Jayne asked. "Afraid to get a little dirty?"

She glared at her stepsister. "Shut up."

"We'll be back," Sam said, leading the way out of the clearing. Lynn followed him.

They began the long walk back to the Impala in silence. Lynn crossed her arms over her chest subconsciously, eyeing the brush around them. She was wondering if they were going to get eaten by bugs anytime soon.

Sam walked beside her with his hands shoved in his pockets. Lynn chewed on her lip, wondering if she ought to bring up the obvious tension between Sam and his brother. She decided to start with the camaraderie between Sam and Matt. If Sam was willing to talk, she'd push on from there.

"So, it looks like you made a friend," she said conversationally.

Sam glanced over at her, looking mildly surprised by her voice. "Oh, yeah," he murmured. "I guess I just… understand what he's going through."

Lynn nodded slowly. "You didn't get along with your dad?"

Sam laughed. "That's putting it mildly."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged, appearing mildly uncomfortable. "We just… we're two different people. We wanted different things."

"You mean he wanted you to hunt," Lynn said. "And you wanted to go to school."

"Pretty much."

"So you just bailed?"

Sam stopped short. Lynn paused a few paces ahead and turned back to look at him. "Sam?"

He frowned at her. "No," he said in a surly tone. "I didn't just _bail_."

Lynn held up her hands in surrender. "Whoa. Sorry. Didn't mean to get you all upset."

"You don't understand," Sam pushed on. "It wasn't like that."

"Yeah, I get it. Sorry."

"No. You don't get it. Do you know how I ended up at Stanford?"

"Uh…"

"I scored a full ride," Sam snapped. "Even with all the hunting and the moving around, I managed to score a full ride to Stanford. Pre-law. Do you know how that hard that is?"

Lynn wisely chose silence as her course of action.

"I was so excited," Sam went on. "I thought he'd be happy for me."

There was a pause. "All right, fine," Sam admitted. "I didn't really think he'd be happy for me. But… Lynn, I scored a full ride to Stanford University. Most parents would have been proud!"

He shook his head bitterly. "But not my dad. My dad was pissed. He threw me out of the house!" Sam thought again, and then amended, "Well, the motel room."

Lynn blinked, standing awkwardly in the middle of the path. "Sorry, Sam. I… I didn't know… I'm sorry."

Sam fell silent and shrugged. "Whatever."

There was a long silence. Then Sam started walking towards the car again, and Lynn followed close behind.

* * *

Dean tossed his jacket onto the grass behind him and rolled up his sleeves. Jayne shrugged out of her jacket as well. He buried his arm elbow deep in the hole, digging for more bones.

Jayne rolled up her sleeves too, watching him feel around inside the mound. Dean looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "You just going to sit there, Goldilocks, or are you going to make yourself useful?"

She smirked back. "You look like you got it covered."

He glared at her. She continued to smirk. It was an infuriating smirk.

Dean grabbed a fistful of the congregating earthworms and chucked them at her.

The worms hit the center of her chest. She jumped about two feet in the air. A surprisingly high pitched and feminine little squeak escaped her lips. "What the hell?" she shouted at him.

Dean laughed. He had to. Jayne Gibson, screaming like a girl? And over a couple of earthworms, no less. It was just freaking hilarious.

Jayne's eyes narrowed. Then she reached into the dirt, grabbed her own handful of worms, and hurled it at him. The worms bounced off the side of his head.

Dean squeaked too, sounding a little too much like Jayne for his tastes, and shook his head both furiously and involuntarily.

Jayne cackled.

"I'm going to kill you," he announced.

She scoffed. "You started it!"

"Whoa. Guys," Matt spoke up from his spot on the side. "Who's in high school?"

"Shut up," Dean snapped.

Matt held up his hands in surrender, and stepped away from the mound. Dean turned back to the grave and found Jayne's arm already down the hole. "Find anything?"

She nodded, pulling her hand back. There was some sort of arm or leg bone in her hand. Wrinkling her nose, she laid the long, thin, yellowed bone on the ground beside the already uncovered skull. "Poor bastard," she said.

Dean shoved his arm in the hole next, feeling around for more bones. His fingertips brushed against something smooth and round. He grabbed it and pulled it free of its earthen prison.

Another skull.

He snorted. "Make that poor bastards," he quipped. "As in plural."

"Just like you said," Jayne murmured ruefully. "Mass grave."

"I don't care what Sammy says," Dean said, reaching back into the hole. "If this isn't grounds for an entire crap-load of angry spirits, I don't know what is."

Jayne began clawing through the dirt around his arm. Dean ran his fingers over the contents of the hole, cringing every time his hand hit some sort of creepy-crawly. Jayne too looked less than pleased about the handfuls of worms and other bugs she was picking up and throwing aside.

Finally, having enlarged the hole enough to accommodate digging from both of them, Jayne forced her arm down into the ground alongside his. They worked in silence for awhile, pulling bones and skulls out of the hole and laying them on the grass beside the mound.

Dean glanced over at Matt as he worked. The kid had wondered away from him and Jayne and was exploring the other side of the clearing, undoubtedly trying to capture more insects.

"Remind you of Sam?"

He looked over at Jayne in surprise. She had followed his gaze over to Matt. "A little," he replied, shrugging. "Why? You too?"

She shook her head. "They get along. I did notice that."

Dean shrugged again. "Geeks flock together."

He smirked. She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then why aren't you part of their little group?"

"Shut up," he retorted, slinging dirt at her.

She slung some dirt back. "You pissed about it?"

"About what?"

"The two of them forming their own little geek squad?"

"Yeah, I'm all tears." He sniffed, affecting a heartbroken expression, and whined "Why don't they like me?"

"Because you're mean-spirited," she returned. "I meant are you pissed that Sam gets along so well with this kid? You know, listening to the both of them over there with their Daddy issues and all seemed to rub you the wrong way."

He frowned. "Are we having a conversation? Like, a real one? About my feelings?"

Jayne snorted. "I was just curious," she informed him. "I don't give a rat's ass about your stupid feelings."

"And I'm the mean-spirited one? I hate to see what label you get."

"Awesome," Jayne replied. "That's the label I get."

He snorted. "You wish."

They lapsed into silence again. "I don't know," Dean sighed finally. "I mean, my Dad wasn't perfect. But the way Sam talks about him… you'd think we were raised by Adolf Hitler."

"Based on you, I'd believe that."

He glared at her. She smirked at him. "I fail to see how that's funny," he informed her.

Her smirk faded into a semi good-natured smile. "Of course you do," she said. "So, what? Why didn't Sam and your Dad get along?"

"Because Sam was a brat," Dean answered.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "And your Dad?"

"Didn't have time for Sam to be a brat," Dean replied smoothly.

She just looked at him.

"Well, he didn't," Dean said defensively. "He was always hunting. There was always something that needed killing, someone who needed saving, and he didn't have time for questions or backtalk. Sam was always back-talking him. He didn't understand how important the job was. He just…"

Dean trailed off, starting to feel uncomfortable, as though he'd said too much. "He just didn't understand why his dad didn't have time for him?" Jayne finished the sentence, never once looking up from or pausing in her work.

Dean was quiet for a moment, staring at her. She seemed to sense she'd hit a nerve, because she was quiet too, and she wouldn't look at him. "Something like that," Dean muttered.

They were quiet for a minute. "Stephen got like that sometimes," Jayne said suddenly.

Dean looked at her. She didn't look back. "Lynn, too, actually. They'd fight with Russ about the stupidest shit. I never did that. I mean, I kind of got why they'd fight, but I just…"

She swallowed and shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I was part of the family. Russ never made me feel like I wasn't. I just… he wasn't my blood, you know? Maybe that's why it was different."

"What do you mean?"

She shrugged again. "Well… my mom was dead. I never knew my birth dad. Way I got it, he didn't want me to know him. Took off when he found out my mom was pregnant. Russ… technically, Russ didn't have to do good by me. I wasn't his kid. I was just… part of the Ana package. But… well, Russ wasn't that kind of guy. He didn't operate like that. And…"

Jayne sighed, yanking another bone loose from the hole and tossing it on the ground. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I understand a little something about family loyalty. About sticking by the people who take care of you. I mean, my birth dad split. As far as I'm concerned, Russ Juarez was my father, no one else. He didn't have to take care of me, he didn't have to raise me, and he didn't have to treat me like one of his own kids. But he did. I was family; he made sure I knew it. And you don't turn your back on that. So… I don't know."

She looked embarrassed now, and still wouldn't meet his eyes. "Why are we digging these suckers up anyhow?" she asked, changing the subject. "If these bones are the reason for all this insect crap, why aren't we just salting and burning them?"

Dean blinked, both stunned by the quick change in conversation and the common sense in her question. "Uh… well… it might not be ghosts."

Jayne snorted. "What is it then?"

"I don't know… Sam doesn't think it's ghosts."

"So?"

"Well… these could be Native American bones. And that means they're, uh… historical. And you just don't burn that shit."

Jayne fixed him with a skeptical and accusatory look. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

Dean smirked. "Kind of."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she sighed. "I guess I don't care."

"We're back!"

Both Dean and Jayne looked up at Lynn's voice. She was bounding across the field towards them, the quested after box gripped tightly in her hands. Sam lagged behind her, his hand shoved inside his coat pockets.

Matt tore himself away from his insect collecting and made his way across the clearing as well. He and Sam fell into step beside one another, and began talking.

Dean felt his face twist involuntarily into an ugly frown. He looked away from his brother and his new best pal and began uncovering bones with new vigor.

Lynn plopped down in the grass beside her stepsister with the box in hand – and promptly dropped the box on the ground, scrambling instantly back up on her feet. "Ew!" she exclaimed. "Gross! Ants! Everywhere!"

"Yep," Jayne agreed. "What, you forget or something?"

"Um… yeah. Yeah, I kind of did."

Jayne snorted, shaking her head. Dean didn't look up from his digging. As he continued unearthing the bones, Jayne began gathering them up and packing them away in the box.

Lynn stood uncomfortably off to the side, her arms wrapped protectively around her chest. "Are you guys almost done?"

Jayne shot her stepsister a nasty look over her shoulder. "Are you volunteering to help?"

Lynn shuddered, making a face. "Definitely not."

"Then can it."

Lynn stuck her tongue out at her stepsister, but fell silent. Jayne raised an eyebrow at Dean, smirking. He tried to smirk back, but his smirk fell short. He was far too aware of his brother and Matt talking ten steps away to be cheerful. Their closeness aggravated him to no end, and he couldn't concentrate on anything else. He'd always known Sam and their dad didn't get along. He'd accepted it and moved on, just like he did with most things. But now, on this hunt, it was just so glaringly obvious… and Dean didn't like it. For a little while, he'd had his brother back. It was just like old times. They were a family again – except for his dad. But once they found him that would change. And Dean was adamant that they were going to find him.

Now, his pathetic little fantasy was disintegrating all around him. Sam would not stick around after they found Dad. He would not stick around after they killed the thing that had taken their mom, and Jess. He would do the job, and then he'd split. And Dean didn't know if he could take that.

He glanced over at Jayne, who was still packing the box and flinging barbs at her stepsister. It was an odd thought, but suddenly he found himself thinking that out of all the people he knew in this world, Jayne was the one most likely to understand.

Great. Dean shook his head, resisting the urge to chuckle. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but it definitely had. He'd made friends with Goldilocks.

Dean didn't have many friends. He wasn't all that good at making them, and he was even worse at keeping them. He suspected the same was true of Jayne. And now, they had befriended one another. How… delightfully ironic.

He nearly rolled his eyes. It wasn't even all that surprising, really. She seemed like the sort of friend he would make. Just freaking typical.

Maybe it was a good thing. Because the way things were going with Sam… Dean just might need a friend after all.

* * *

Sam was annoyed.

Dean had annoyed him. His father had annoyed him. Lynn had annoyed him. This whole damn job had annoyed him. And he was going to keep being annoyed, even if it killed him.

He sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, his face pressed against the window. Dean was driving, and Jayne and Lynn were sitting in the backseat. He could hear the three of them joking around, but he made no move to join the conversation.

They were going to a nearby Indian reservation. The professor at the community college had directed them there, saying that as far as he knew, there had been no tribes in the Oasis Plains area, but if there had been, someone at the Uchee reservation might know about it.

The scene in the woods between him and Dean had been bad enough. The fact that it had happened in front of everybody only made it worse. Then he had blown up at Lynn, and admittedly not for a very good reason. He supposed she hadn't meant to sound so dismissive, so… disapproving. It was just bad word choice, and in his already foul mood he had read too much into it.

But the worst thing was what Dean had said to him outside the college. Jayne and Lynn had walked on up ahead of them, and Dean had pounced on the moment of solitude for a showdown.

In the end, nothing Sam said made a difference. Dean accused him of not respecting their father; Sam pointed out that their father had always been disappointed in him. Sam had even gone so far as to lay out his worst fear on the line for Dean; that if they did find their father, he wouldn't even be happy to see him.

But Dean had thrown him.

"Sam, Dad was never disappointed in you. He was scared. He was afraid of what might happen if he wasn't around to protect you. But even when you two weren't talking, he used to swing by Stanford whenever he could. Keep an eye on you. Make sure you were safe."

And despite everything, that hadn't made Sam feel good. Knowing that his father wasn't disappointed in him, knowing that he still cared and he still wanted to protect him… Sam knew it should have made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But it didn't. It just made him feel like crap.

Because despite everything, Sam was still mad at his father. And that made him feel like the most ungrateful son in the world.

He loved his dad. He wanted to find his dad. And if something had happened to the man, it would rip him up inside. But he was still so angry. And no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't let it go.

Dean had heeded the advice of a Native American man they'd passed on the street and driven to the reservation's most popular diner. According to the random pedestrian, there was a man who frequented the place called Joe Whitetree. And if anyone had answers about those bones in Oasis Plains, it would be him.

Dean parked the car. Sam got out and slammed the door. Dean climbed out of the car almost simultaneously. "Dude, don't slam my doors!"

Sam took a deep, steadying breath and let it out slowly. No matter how much he wanted to, ripping Dean's head off was not allowed. "Right. Sorry."

Jayne and Lynn clambered out of the back. Jayne closed her door gently, but Lynn slammed hers nearly as hard as Sam had.

"What did I just say?" Dean exploded.

Lynn blinked. "Huh?"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Do. Not. Slam. My baby's. Doors."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "It's a car, you loser."

Dean looked ready to kill her. Jayne intervened. "That's code for sorry," she said. "Can we go inside now?"

Despite the murderous expression Dean still wore on his face, Sam's older brother nodded his concession and led the way to the diner. Sam found it odd that Jayne of all people was playing peacemaker between Dean and her stepsister… he normally would have expected Jayne to jump right in and help Lynn piss Dean off… but here she was, acting the mediator.

She was also walking right behind Dean, talking to him in a civil manner. And when they reached the diner, Dean held the door for her. A courtesy not extended to either him or Lynn.

Frowning, he looked over at Lynn. She was avoiding eye contact with him, and he guessed she was still reeling from the fight in the woods. Sam took a deep breath and whispered, "When exactly did they start getting along?"

Lynn looked up at him in surprise. "Who?"

"My brother and your stepsister."

She continued to frown. "Are they?"

Sam almost laughed, but found himself too annoyed. He had just witnessed true civility between the two most pigheaded people in the world – no, it was more than civility. It was downright friendliness. And Lynn was too oblivious to recognize it.

"Never mind," he muttered, walking inside.

Lynn followed silently, but he felt her piercing gaze on his back.

They filed inside the diner, and Sam's eyes immediately alighted on an old Native American man having coffee at a table by himself. He had long silver hair, and he was playing Solitaire.

This had to be Joe.

Sam nodded in his direction, and then led the other three hunters over to the table. "Joe Whitetree?" he greeted the elderly man.

The man looked up from his Solitaire and nodded once.

"We wanted to ask you a few questions, if that's all right," Sam went on.

"We're students from the University," Dean jumped in. "And…"

"No you're not," Joe interrupted, fixing a stony glare on Dean. "You're lying."

Dean looked over his shoulder at Sam. Sam felt a small smirk forming on his face, but tried to rein it in. His older brother turned back to Joe and said, "Well, the truth is…"

"You know who starts a sentence with truth is?" Joe interrupted him again. "Liars."

Sam again tried not to smirk. Beside him, he heard Jayne muffle a snigger.

Dean looked at the other three with impatience. Sam took a deep breath and leveled with the man. "Have you ever heard of Oasis Plains?" he asked. "It's a housing development near the Atoka valley."

Joe looked at Sam, and then looked over at Dean. "I like him," he announced. "He's not a liar."

Dean looked pissed, which made Sam all the happier. Now if only Joe would talk to them about the bones they'd found…

"I know the area," Joe said.

Sam mentally breathed a sigh of relief. "What can you tell us about the history there?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Sam waited for someone else to field that question, feeling he'd spoken enough. But no one seemed willing to speak up. Deciding that had something to do with Joe's obvious preference of Sam over the others… particularly Dean… Sam kept going.

"Something… something bad is happening in Oasis Plains," he said. "We think it might have something to do with some bones we found there."

Joe perked up at the mention of bones, and Sam knew he had him.

"Native American bones," he pressed.

Joe nodded, looking resigned. "I'll tell you what my grandfather told me," he announced. "And what his grandfather told him. Two hundred years ago, a band of my ancestors lived in that valley. One day, the American cavalry came to relocate them. They were resistant, the cavalry impatient."

He took a breath. "As my grandfather put it; on a night when the moon and the sun shared the sky as equals, the cavalry first raided our village. They murdered, raped. The next day, the cavalry came again, and the next, and the next. And on the sixth night, the cavalry came a last time. And by the time the sun rose, every man, woman, and child still in the village was dead."

The story had an impact on all four hunters. Sam felt that unshakeable faith he had in the balance of things waver slightly. He always said that they were meant to hunt evil, and save people, and that killing another human being was always wrong, no matter what the circumstance. But Joe's story… it had reawakened him to some of the horrors regular people were capable of.

But the tale wasn't over yet. "They say that on the sixth night, as the chief of the village lay dying, he whispered to the heavens that no white man would ever tarnish his land again. Nature would rise up and protect the valley. And it would bring as many days of misery and death to the white man as the cavalry had brought upon his people."

"Insects," Dean spoke up. "Sounds like nature to me."

"The cavalry attacked for six days," Lynn murmured softly. "So nature will attack for six days as well."

Joe nodded. "And on the sixth day, none would survive."

* * *

The four hunters marched out of the diner. Dean was anxious to get back to Oasis Plains in light of their new information. As they headed for the car, he fingered his keys impatiently in his hands, walking just a little faster than everyone else.

"When did the gas man die?" Sam asked out of nowhere.

"We got here Tuesday," Dean replied. "So, uh…"

"Friday the twentieth," Lynn interrupted him.

"March twentieth," Sam spoke, sounding as though he'd had a thought bulb go on over his head. "That's the spring equinox."

"The night the moon and the sun share the sky as equals," Dean exclaimed, feeling the presence of the same thought bulb that had just visited Sam.

"Which is why the only person to kick it before Dustin and Linda was that surveyor a year ago," Jayne spoke up, getting in on the theory as well. "He was the only person to encounter that curse before the six day mark was up."

"Curse?" Dean asked skeptically. "We're calling it a curse now?"

"Yeah," Sam intervened, his tone insistent. Dean resisted rolling his eyes. "It's a curse all right, Dean. Larry built those houses on cursed ground. Which means that every year, about this time, anyone in Oasis Plains is in danger."

"Oh shit," Lynn spoke up, eyeing her cell phone. "Today's the twenty-fifth. That means…"

"Tonight's the sixth night," Dean finished.

"If we don't do something," Sam exclaimed. "Larry's family will be dead by sunrise!"

"Well, what the hell do we do now?" Jayne asked. "How do we break that curse?"

"You don't break the curse," Dean informed her. "You get out of its way. We got get those people out of there, now."

Dean yanked open his door and slid behind the wheel. Jayne and Lynn piled in the back and Sam climbed into the passenger seat. Dean turned the engine over and shifted out of park.

"So…" Lynn murmured. "How exactly do we get the Pikes out of their house?"

Dean hit the gas and tore out of the diner parking lot. "If you got any ideas, Lynn, lay them on me."

* * *

Night had fallen, and Dean was still speeding along the highway, headed back towards Oasis Plains.

"Yes, Mr. Pike," he said into his cell phone. "There's a mainline gas leak in your neighborhood."

Jayne sat on the edge of the backseat, her fingers tapping her knee nervously as she listened to Dean's conversation.

"Well, it's fairly extensive," Dean said in response to whatever Larry had asked. "I don't want to alarm you, but we need your family out of the vicinity for at least twelve hours or so, just to be safe."

Dean paused and Jayne resisted the urge to grip the back of his seat. "Travis Weaver," he replied to Larry's next question. "I work for Oklahoma Gas and Power."

Whatever Larry said next obviously didn't jive with their genius scheme. "Uh…" Dean said after a relatively long pause. Then he rather abruptly hung up the phone.

"Brilliant plan, Lynn!" he snapped in the rearview mirror. "Got any more?"

"Hey!" Lynn protested. "It was a good idea! I can't help it if you're a shitty actor!"

Sam sighed harshly. "Give me the phone," he ordered, snatching it out of Dean's hands. Dean hit the gas harder.

"Who the hell are you calling now?" Jayne demanded from the backseat. "Sam?"

He didn't answer. Someone picked up on the other end and Sam said into Dean's cell, "Matt? It's Sam."

Jayne leaned closer, and nearly banged her head against Lynn's, who was trying to eavesdrop as well. "Watch it," her stepsister hissed.

Jayne ignored her. "Sam," she heard Matt say through the receiver. "My backyard's crawling with cockroaches."

"Matt, just listen. You have to get your family out of that house right now, ok?"

Jayne didn't catch Matt's response. "Because something's coming," Sam said.

"More bugs?" That Jayne heard.

"Yeah. A lot more."

"My Dad doesn't listen under the best of circumstances! What am I supposed to tell him?"

"Look, you've got to make him listen, ok?"

"Make him listen?" Jayne repeated incredulously.

"Give me the phone," Dean snapped. Sam hesitated. "Give me the phone!"

Sam finally handed it over. "Matt, listen," Dean ordered in a no-nonsense tone of voice. "Under no circumstances are you to tell him the truth. He'll just think you're nuts. Tell him you've got a sharp pain in your right side and you need to go to the hospital, ok?"

Matt must have agreed to the plan, because Dean hung up and tossed the phone at Sam. "Make him listen," Dean grumbled.

"Not the best plan," Lynn added.

Sam sighed, sounding harassed.

Jayne would have tossed in her own two cents, but sensed tension in the air. Sighing as well, she leaned back in the seat and tried to relax.

Try being the operative word.

Finally, Dean's car pulled up alongside the curb in front of the Pikes' house. Every light in the place was still on and the family car was still parked in the drive.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Jayne groaned.

"Damn it," Dean added. "They're still here."

The four hunters leapt out of the car.

A very pissed off Larry Pike rushed out of the house to greet him, his son hot on his heels. "Get off my property before I call the cops!" he shouted.

"Mr. Pike," Sam said calmly. "Listen."

"Dad," Matt added. "They're just trying to help."

"Matt, get in the house!" Larry thundered.

Matt sighed, and looked over at the four hunters forlornly. "Sorry," he murmured. "I told him the truth."

"We had a plan, Matt," Dean returned. "What happened to the plan?"

"Look, it's nearly twelve am," Sam said, trying to gain some sort of control over the escalating situation. "They're going to be coming any minute now. You need to get your family and get out of here before it's too late."

"You mean before the biblical swarm," Larry spat sarcastically.

Lynn rolled her eyes and stepped forward. "Mr. Pike, we don't have time for skepticism. You can either stand here and argue with us, or you can do the responsible thing and get your family out of here. Don't take chances with your wife and kid's lives."

"Don't you threaten me," Larry snapped, advancing.

"It's not a threat," Lynn returned calmly. Her calm amazed Jayne, who was about to knock this guy down if he took one more step towards her stepsister. "It's facts. I'm trying to save your life."

"Larry, what do you really think happened to the realtor? And the gas company man?" Dean asked. "You don't think something odd's going on around here?"

Apparently, Larry didn't think that at all. "I don't know who you people are, but you're crazy. You come near me or my boy again, and we're going to have a problem."

"Well, I hate to be a downer," Dean snapped. "But we've got a problem right now."

"Dad, they're right," Matt spoke up. "We're in danger."

"Matt, get inside right now!" Larry practically screamed.

"No!" Matt hollered back. "Why won't you listen to me?"

"Because this is crazy! It doesn't make any sense!"

"All right, that's it!" Jayne exploded, finally losing her temper. She stepped forward so suddenly that Larry retreated backwards in alarm. "You're an idiot! And I don't really give a damn if you believe us or not! You have two options; either get your family, get in your car and get the hell out of here, or I'm going to punch you in the head and stuff you in the trunk!!"

Larry bristled, but seemed momentarily at a loss for words. "You know," Dean spoke up, stepping forward as well. "That doesn't sound like such a bad idea."

"Stop it!" Lynn yelled at them. Jayne, Dean, and Larry all turned to her in surprise. She stared at them, her eyes wide. "Do you hear it?"

Jayne strained her ears, frowning. Suddenly, she heard it too. It was a loud, ever increasing buzzing noise of positively biblical proportions.

The bugs were here.

"What the hell…?" Larry murmured.

The blue bug zapper hanging on the porch began to crackle. Countless bugs were hitting it and bouncing off. The buzzing noise grew louder.

"All right, it's time to go," Dean announced. "Larry, get your wife."

Suddenly, Larry was a lot less argumentative. He nodded, racing for the front door.

He hadn't even opened it when Matt spoke up.

"You guys?" he said, his voice wavering. The teenager gestured off in the direction of the horizon.

A large, black, buzzing cloud was swarming towards them. Jayne swallowed, hard. They were so completely screwed.

"Oh my god," Larry muttered.

"We'll never make it," Sam said.

"Everybody in the house!" Dean ordered. "Everybody in the house, now! Let's go!"

This time, no one argued. All six of them tore up the porch steps and ducked inside the house.

Dean slammed the door closed, locking it behind him. Sam grabbed hold of Larry's arm. "Is there anyone else in the neighborhood?" he demanded.

Larry shook his head. "No, it's just us."

His wife suddenly appeared in the foyer. "Honey, what's happening? What's that noise?"

No one answered her question. The buzzing was still getting louder, and that made Jayne very nervous. She glanced over at Lynn and caught her checking the floor around her, cautiously lifting up first one shoe and then the other.

Trust her sister to fear an ant attack when bees were swarming around outside the door.

"Call 9-1-1," Larry ordered his wife.

She didn't move, staring up at the ceiling in horror.

"Joanie!" Larry shouted.

"Ok," she said frantically, racing for the phone.

"I need towels," Dean said.

Larry ran for the linen closet, Dean hot on his heels.

Sam grabbed Matt. "All right, we need to lock this place up," he said. "Doors, windows, fireplace, everything!"

Jayne caught Lynn's eye. Sam hauled Matt upstairs. Lynn nodded at her stepsister, and then raced off to lock up on the lower level.

Larry appeared in the foyer with towels. Dean snatched one and ran for the front door, stuffing the towel under the crack. Jayne grabbed a towel of her own and headed for the back door.

"Phones are dead!" she heard Joanie exclaim.

"They must have chewed through the phone lines!" Dean called.

Jayne raced into the kitchen and launched herself at the back door. After making sure it was locked up tight, she began stuffing her towel under the crack.

The lights flickered and went out.

"And the power lines!" she heard Dean announce from the front of the house.

There was a fluttering sensation in Jayne's stomach that she could only describe as panic. She finished stuffing the towel under the door and double checked the windows around her.

"My cell phone!" Larry exclaimed from the foyer as Jayne yanked an open kitchen window closed, batting at the bugs trying to eat through the screen. "There's no signal!"

"You won't get one!" Dean returned. Jayne locked the window. "They're blanketing the house."

Jayne froze at his words and stepped back from the window. Sure enough, the bees and beetles and cicadas were dive-bombing the house. As she watched in horror, she saw them gluing themselves up against the window, one on top of the other. Their segmented bodies and multiple legs swarmed around one another as they squished themselves together, blocking both the cell phone reception and the light from the moon outside.

Her stomach turned with nerves and nausea. There was a swelling in her throat, and Jayne forced herself to take deep breaths. She was no good to anyone if she panicked. She had to stay calm… stay calm…

Jayne barely noticed she'd been backing away from the window until she ran smack into a hard body behind her.

Squealing, she whirled around, her hand clutching at her throat.

Dean. Stupid, stupid Dean.

He frowned at her, his hand grabbing hold of her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

She nodded furiously, swatting his hand away. "I'm fine!" she snapped. "You just… you just startled me. Idiot."

He rolled his eyes at the immature comment and raced for the kitchen sink. As she stood uselessly in the center of the room, Dean threw open the cupboards and began rooting through their contents.

When he stood back up, he held a black metal canister in his hand. Jayne crinkled her brow incredulously. "Bug spray?"

Dean shrugged. "Why not?"

He thrust a long, floppy green object into her hand. Jayne looked down at it, her incredulity still growing. She stared at the object, and then she looked back up and stared at Dean.

"This is a fly swatter," she announced.

He shrugged again. "Would you rather have nothing?"

"No," she retorted defensively, cradling the fly swatter to her chest.

He shook his head, and clapped his hand back on her shoulder. "Come on," he ordered, steering her out of the kitchen and back into the living room.

They found the rest of their small group standing in the foyer, watching the windows with wide eyes. Larry stood with his wife and son. Joanie was holding Matt close to her side. Jayne noticed immediately that Sam and Lynn were standing a wee bit too close together in the center of the room. It was too dark to tell for sure, but it looked to Jayne like they were holding hands.

Ah, young love. And in the midst of a biblical swarm of creepy, crawly insects intent on killing them all. How romantic.

Suddenly, something occurred to Jayne. "Hey," she whispered. "Didn't Joe Whitetree say the insects would only attack the white man?"

"Yeah," Dean said gruffly. Jayne jumped in surprise, a shiver running down her spine. His mouth had to be literally two inches away from her ear.

"But Lynn's not white," she pointed out.

Lynn blinked, glancing over at her stepsister with wide eyes. Everyone stared at Jayne's sister. "Good point…" Lynn murmured. "Am I not going to die?"

"We have no way of knowing that for sure," Sam pointed out. "White man could be all encompassing; nature may rise up against anyone who's not a descendent of the Uchee tribe."

"Rain on her parade, why don't you?" Jayne retorted.

"I hate to point out the obvious, but how does Lynn surviving help any of us?" Larry asked irritably.

"It doesn't," Jayne replied. "I was just commenting on the possibility. Congrats, Lynn."

"Thanks," Lynn murmured, not sounding entirely enthused.

"What do we do now?" Larry asked, his tone still more irritated.

"Try and outlast them," Sam answered him. "Hopefully, the curse will end at sunrise."

"Hopefully?!"

Jayne glared at the man. "Hey, pal, we tried to get your stubborn ass out of here."

"Tried pretty damn hard, as I remember it," Lynn added.

"What was that?" Matt suddenly exclaimed.

There was loud creaking sound coming from the fireplace. Jayne turned towards it, the fluttering panicked feeling in her gut growing increasingly worse. Behind her, Dean turned towards the fireplace as well, nearly stepping on the back of her boot. She felt his arm brush against her back. Exactly how freaking close was he standing to her, anyway?

Sam moved towards the fireplace. Lynn pressed herself into the younger Winchester's side, gripping his arm with her free hand. Jayne could see now that the two of them were definitely holding hands. Lynn moved to the fireplace with him, arm in his.

Dean followed his brother, stepping out from behind her. Frowning, Jayne took a few steps after him, not wanting to be the only hunter not investigating the odd noises.

"The flue," Sam murmured.

Dean froze in place. Jayne barely stopped in time to prevent running into him. "I think everyone needs to get upstairs," the elder Winchester announced.

The creaking got louder, accompanied by thumping and buzzing. Larry stepped in front of his wife and son, backing them towards the stairs. Sam began to back up as well, dragging Lynn with him.

The flue gave way. A horde of angry bees burst into the room, buzzing loudly, and flew at the seven people standing by the stairs.

Joanie screamed. So did Lynn. Larry ran for the stairs, yelling and pushing his son and wife along with him. The bees quickly overtook them. Jayne backed herself into a wall, the fly swatter slipping from her hands, and watched wide-eyed as Sam hustled Lynn towards the stairs, shielding her with his body. Larry covered his son's head, swatting at the bees. His wife did the same.

Dean stepped in front of her, fishing his lighter out of his jacket pocket and holding the flame up to the bug spray canister. Suddenly, a large flame was roaring on the end of the bug spray nozzle and Dean was directing it at the swarm. The bees backed off slightly. It was enough.

"Everyone upstairs!" he shouted, still spraying. The hand that held his lighter grabbed her shoulder and shoved her in the direction of the staircase. "Now! Let's go! Hurry up!"

Jayne grabbed the nearest Pike – which turned out to be Joanie – and dragged her upstairs. Just ahead of her and the developer's wife were Sam and Lynn, pushing Larry and Matt up the steps with them.

When they reached the top of the steps, Larry raced halfway down the hall and yanked open the trapdoor in the ceiling that led up to the attic. The ladder fell down to the floor, and Larry shoved Matt towards it. His son tore up the rungs as Jayne forced Joanie forward into her husband's waiting arms. Larry pushed her upstairs after Matt, and then climbed up right behind her. Lynn suddenly grabbed Jayne's arm and practically threw her into the ladder. Jayne was so surprised by the move she actually started climbing.

"You next!" her stepsister shouted at Sam.

"What?" Sam exclaimed.

Jayne had reached the top of the ladder and now stood in the pitch black attic, directly at the edge of the rectangular hole in the cedar floor. "Someone move!" she hollered. "Now!"

"Sam, go! I'm not white, remember?"

"But…"

Lynn shoved Sam towards the ladder. To his credit, he looked reluctant as he clambered up the steps and into the attic. Lynn followed after him. Sam reached the top and knelt down on the floor, grabbing Jayne's stepsister by the wrists and yanking her up the last two steps into the attic.

Lynn stumbled into the younger Winchester's chest. "You all right?" Sam demanded.

Lynn nodded. Jayne turned back to the ladder. "Where the hell is Dean?" she thundered.

"He's coming!" Lynn shouted back.

Suddenly, Dean appeared at the foot of the ladder, still spraying his flaming pesticide. Jayne stood next to the hole, watching as Dean climbed the ladder with lightening speed and leapt up onto the attic floor.

"Close the door!" he bellowed, lighting up his bug spray again and holding off the advancing insects.

Lynn shoved Sam backwards and grabbed at the pulley system for the trap door. As Dean sprayed, Lynn hauled the door back up. It was nearly closed when Sam appeared at her side, helping her shut it all the way and latch it into place.

Jayne stood there, now completely in the dark, and tried to catch her breath. She could hear buzzing coming from both above and below them and it did little to settle her nerves. She felt rather useless at the moment, considering what little she'd done to help the situation. Dean had been the one who had kept the bugs at bay. And Lynn was the one making the sacrifices; operating on the assumption that she couldn't be killed because technically, she wasn't the white man.

Jayne shook her head, wanting to kick herself. Why the hell had she brought that up? If she had known Lynn would use it for an excuse to play the big macho hero, she would have kept her revelation to herself.

A hand fell on her shoulder and she jumped. "Whoa there, Goldilocks," Dean said in her ear. "It's just me. You all right?"

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Perfect," she replied. "Yourself?"

Dean chuckled slightly. "Oh, yeah. Just great." He paused, and Jayne could hear him panting as heavily as she was. "Think we're safe for now?"

"For now," she returned pessimistically. "Wouldn't count on that lasting too long."

"Yeah," he agreed. "We are so screwed."

"You can say that again."

"We are so screwed."

They fell quiet. Jayne felt her way over to the wall and leaned against it tiredly. She heard Dean's footsteps on the unfinished wood floor as he made his way towards her in the dark. His hand found her arm, and then the wall beside her arm, and suddenly, Dean was leaning against the wall next to her.

"My brother's holding your stepsister's hand," he informed her.

"I know," Jayne replied. "Kind of makes me want to vomit."

Dean chuckled again. "You and me both."

They lapsed back into silence, leaning comfortably against the wall. "Still think this case is lame?" Dean asked suddenly.

"Yep," Jayne returned. "And if this lame ass case turns out to be the case that kills me, I am going to be so pissed off."

* * *

Lynn had no idea why she was holding hands with Sam Winchester.

Downstairs, when they'd all congregated in the entrance hall, his hand had simply found hers. They'd been staring at the bugs carpeting the windows, and Lynn had whimpered. It was a quiet whimper that none of the Pikes had heard, but Sam had picked up on it and taken her hand.

He'd held it the whole time they'd stood down there, held it even tighter when the noise in the chimney had started, and then dragged her upstairs when the bees burst in, still clinging to that hand.

When they were fussing over the entrance to the attic, he had temporarily let go. Lynn had forced everyone upstairs ahead of her, Jayne's statement in the foyer still ringing in her ears. If she wasn't white, maybe she wouldn't be killed. And if that was the case, she ought to be the last person anyone worried about. Everyone else's safety was far more important.

Unless, of course, Sam's theory was true. But Lynn doubted that it was. All around her, everyone had been stung or bitten at least once. And there wasn't a scratch on her.

Lucky her. Score one for Puerto Ricans everywhere.

Now, she was holding Sam's hand again. He hadn't been able to wait for her to climb the last two rungs of the ladder and yanked her up into the attic himself. She'd fallen into his chest and for a moment, he'd held her there. She'd felt warm, comfortable… safe.

Then he'd let go. But not before seizing her hand again and squeezing it tight.

That had been a while ago. They were standing in the dark attic, listening to the bugs attacking the house, and they were still holding hands. And Lynn was glad.

She rather liked holding Sam's hand.

As they stood there silently, yet completely comfortable with one another, Lynn heard the scratching noise.

"What was that?" she whispered.

"Oh no," Sam murmured.

Lynn looked up at the ceiling. There, in the center of the attic, was a small spot that was starting to give way. Light from outside was filtering in through the small cracks appearing in the ceiling, and sawdust was snowing down from the beginnings of a hole.

"Oh my God," Joanie exclaimed. "What is that?"

Sam let go of Lynn's hand, crossing the attic towards the source of the problem. His older brother did the same, and Lynn saw them both step into the sparse patch of moonlight in the center of the attic space. "Something's eating through the wood," Dean announced.

"Termites," Matt replied.

"Well that's just great," her stepsister spoke up, stepping from the shadows.

The wood gave away. A hole opened up in the ceiling. And a swarm of bees immediately attacked the small opening, spilling into the attic.

"Everyone get back!" Dean ordered.

The Pikes crowded into the very far corner of the attic. Dean whipped out his bug spray and lighter and started spraying.

Lynn raced towards the fuse box, snatching the plastic cover off and rushing towards the hole. Ducking around Dean and his flaming bug spray, she stood directly under the hole and got up on her tiptoes, pressing the cover against the ceiling.

"Lynn, what the hell are you doing?" Jayne thundered.

"Shut up and grab one of those two-by-fours!" Lynn snapped.

In the light of the bug spray, Jayne's fury was obvious, but her stepsister did as commanded. Jayne and Sam both wrestled a two-by-four off the ground and hauled it over to the hole, propping it up against the plastic fuse box cover. Once the two of them had squeezed the long wooden pole into place, Lynn let go of the cover and relaxed. She stumbled back from the hole, breathing hard.

Her stepsister roughly grabbed her arm. "What the hell was that?"

Lynn shrugged, smirking. "I'm not getting stung, Jayne."

Jayne blinked.

"You were right," Lynn said. "I'm immune."

Jayne continued to glare at her. "I find that matters very little to me."

Lynn playfully slugged her in the arm. "You softy."

Suddenly, there was loud cracking and scratching noises from a different part of the attic. The four hunters swiveled towards the sound, finding yet another weak spot in the roof where the termites had chewed their way through.

"Oh, shit," Jayne spat.

At that moment, the wood gave way and the second hole opened up. The bugs swarmed inside once again.

Dean lit up the bug spray again, trying to ward off the attacking bees. There were far too many of them. Lynn glanced around, trying to figure out a second way to cover up the hole. She found nothing.

Lynn looked at her stepsister. "The Pikes," Jayne exclaimed over the roar of the bees, nodding in the direction of the small family.

Nodding, Lynn grabbed her stepsister's hand and yanked her toward the three innocents as Dean continued spraying. Sam followed the two of them to the back of the attic.

Both Sam and Jayne opened their coats up and tried to shield the family from the attacking insects. Lynn opened up her coat as well, and tried to shield Jayne and Sam.

After all, there was no need to shield herself. Lynn couldn't help marveling over that. Even with the bees currently filling up the attic, she still wasn't getting stung.

Dean kept spraying until the can was empty. Cussing, he threw the canister to the ground and raced to the back of the attic as well. He knelt down beside Jayne, lifting up his coat and joining the little blanket party they had going on in the corner.

Lynn tried to shield him as well, but she only had so much coat to give. Sam and Jayne were mostly covered, but Dean was still a little exposed. "Dean!" she hollered at him. "Duck down!"

He heeded her command. It still wasn't enough protection, but he was covered more than he had been before.

They stayed huddled like that for a long time. Lynn was starting to panic. Her stomach twisted up and she began gnawing her lip. How much longer until dawn? Would they make it until then? Or was she going to have to watch her stepsister die? And the Winchesters? And this innocent family?

Just as she was starting to really freak out, the buzzing suddenly got softer. Frowning, Lynn looked over her shoulder at the swarm of bees filling the attic. Slowly, the swarm began to thin.

Light began to shine down into the attic. The bright gray light of dawn.

The bees began to retreat. Slowly, watching the insects carefully, Lynn stood up and pulled her jacket away from Jayne and Sam's heads.

"I think it's over," she announced.

She walked towards the hole in the roof. The bees were now mostly gone, flying off through the hole. Behind her, she heard Jayne, Sam, and Dean's footsteps as they followed her to the center of the attic.

The four hunters stood, watching through the hole in the ceiling as the swarm of insects flew away towards the horizon. The sun was rising, and the bees and other bugs made their way towards the bright pinks and oranges of the dawn.

Lynn watched, more than a little surprised. After all, as Joe Whitetree had put it, on the sixth night there were supposed to be no survivors.

And here they were, all seven of them, alive and well in the face of the approaching dawn.

* * *

Janis rumbled as she took the turn and sidled up alongside the curb. Jayne threw the pickup into park and shut down the engine. Dean's Impala sped past her, horn blaring and parked directly in front of the Nissan.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "He is so mature," she announced.

Her stepsister smirked at her. "The two of you seemed to be getting along all right yesterday," she pointed out. "There was minimal bickering. You even took one another's sides on occasion. And I seem to remember him opening a door for you."

Again, Jayne rolled her eyes. "Whatever." She gave Lynn an appraising look. "You know, I still can't believe you walked away without one single little bug bite. The rest of us look like we caught the chicken pox, and here you are, skin as smooth as can be."

Lynn shrugged, smirking. "Sorry, sis. Guess I'm just awesome."

"More like you're just lucky."

"And you're just jealous."

Jayne smiled. "Guess we better say bye to the Pikes."

Lynn sighed. "I guess. You know, last night could have ended a lot differently if that dumbass had just listened to us and left."

"Yep," Jayne agreed. "But, hey. That's the job. Saving people who don't want to be saved and are downright rude when you try."

"Such a thankless task."

"Let's just get this over with."

The two stepsisters hopped down from the cab of the pickup and made their way towards the Pikes. A moving van had been parked in front of the house, and the three members of the tiny family were cleaning up their ruined house and packing their things.

Dean and Sam climbed out of the Impala as the two girls passed and joined them on the walk over to the Pikes. Larry stood at the open back of the moving van, loading up boxes. "What?" Dean called as they got closer. "No good-bye?"

"Good timing," Larry returned, shaking hands with all of them. "Another hour, and we'd have been gone."

"For good?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Larry replied. "The development's been put on hold while the government investigates those bones you found. But I'm going to make damn sure no one lives here ever again."

"Good call," Lynn said, smiling gently.

Larry gave her a half-hearted grin.

"You don't sound too upset about it," Sam pointed out.

"Well, this has been the biggest financial disaster of my career," Larry said. "But somehow…"

He glanced over at the house. The other four saw Matt Pike walking towards the trashcan, a cardboard box in his arms.

"I really don't care," Larry finished.

Jayne mustered up a smile for the developer. Sam smiled too, and then he and Lynn headed over to say goodbye to Matt.

"I really don't know how to say thank you enough," Larry continued, addressing Jayne and Dean. "You kept me alive, kept my family alive… despite everything I did to stop you."

"Yeah, well," Dean smirked. "We're stubborn like that."

"You are," Larry agreed. "And I'm grateful."

"Don't mention it," Jayne murmured, starting to get embarrassed. She honestly hated the hunts that ended like this. It was nice to get a thank you, but… she hated when things got this emotional.

She wasn't too good with emotional.

Larry smiled. "Although, I am curious as to what would have happened if those bugs hadn't shown up at just the right moment," he joked. "What with you threatening to punch my lights out and all."

"Oh, I would have done it," she assured him, giving him a smile. "Wouldn't be the first time either."

Dean laughed beside her. "Yeah," he agreed. "I'm with her there."

"So this is what you guys do?" Larry asked. "You go from town to town, state to state, just saving idiots like me who get themselves into crazy situations like this one?"

"Pretty much," Dean replied.

"Wow," Larry sighed. "Must be hard. At least you've got each other, though. I've got to say, I'm impressed your marriage has handled the strain so well. You guys seem pretty happy together."

Jayne was pretty sure she just flushed about ten shades of red. "Oh no," she said quickly – possibly too quickly. "Actually, we're not really married."

Larry looked surprised. "You're not?"

"No," she assured him, shaking her head. "Not even a little. Actually, we rarely even hunt together."

"Yeah," Dean added, also sounding rather flustered. "That was sort of a lie."

"Yeah," Jayne said. "He's a liar."

Dean glared at her.

Larry smiled, not the least bit thrown. And who could blame him, after the insect showdown in his attic the night before? "Well you could have fooled me," was all he said.

They said their goodbyes to Larry, shook hands one last time, and then left him to his packing, waiting by the Impala for Lynn and Sam to finish talking with Matt. As they waited, leaning against the car, they fell into an awkward silence.

"So, uh… Larry really thought we were married," Dean said.

"Yeah," Jayne replied. "Go figure."

They fell quiet again.

Jayne swallowed. "Look, um… this hunt was kind of… well, this hunt sucked, but…" she sighed. "I guess working with you wasn't the equivalent to pulling an impacted tooth."

Dean laughed. "Wow," he chortled. "Coming from you, that's as good as a compliment."

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late," he smirked.

She laughed.

They stood by the Impala awkwardly for a few more seconds and then Jayne announced, "Good bye, Dean. I'm sure if Sam and Lynn have anything to say about it, I'll be seeing you again fairly soon."

He smiled at her. "I'll see you around, Jayne."

She nodded, waved, gave him one of her short-lived and awkward half smiles, and then headed back to her truck.

Behind the wheel of her beloved Janis, Jayne leaned back in her seat, staring absently out the windshield as she waited for her stepsister. Too late, she realized that staring absently actually meant staring at Dean's ass.

Giving her head a furious shake, Jayne quickly focused her eyes on her lap. What the hell was the matter with her?

They really needed to stop hunting with the Winchesters.

* * *

Matt disappeared into the house and Lynn turned to Sam to say her goodbyes.

"I had a good hunt," she told him.

Sam crinkled up his nose in a skeptical smile. "Really?" he asked.

He looked adorable doing that, but Lynn didn't tell him so. "Yeah," she said. "Remember, I'm the only one nothing stung. I rule."

He laughed. "Look, Sam," she said suddenly. "I've been thinking about what happened in the woods. That little talk we had about your dad…"

"It's ok, Lynn," he interrupted her. "I was probably a little out of line that day."

She paused, staring at the ground. "Not entirely."

They were quiet. "I just want you to know that I understand," she told him.

Sam blinked.

"I mean, I fought with my dad plenty growing up," she pushed on. "Hunting wasn't exactly my first career choice either."

"Really?" he asked again. "What was?"

Lynn scratched awkwardly at her hair. "Uh… well… I wanted to go to school. Get a degree in chemistry. And work in a cosmetics lab."

Sam laughed. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Lynn shrugged. "I wanted to create make up. I'm a big girl."

He laughed again. Then suddenly he sobered. "Why didn't you?"

Lynn shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, my dad never approved. When I was still in high school, he gave me all kinds of hell about it. But then… then he died. I was eighteen, and… I'd been accepted by a decent school, I had a little scholarship money coming my way, and I was in the clear when it came to loans, but…"

She paused, taking a deep breath. "Jayne made it clear I could go. She wasn't going to stand in my way. She didn't guilt trip me or anything. If I wanted to leave, I could leave."

Lynn tore her eyes off the driveway and met his. "That's when I realized I didn't really want to go. I kind of don't think I ever did."

Sam blinked. "Never?"

"I don't know. I mean… when you're a teenager, sometimes you just rebel to rebel, you know? And sometimes I think that's what it was. I don't know. I could be wrong. But the thing is… family is family, Sam. And even if… even if you don't always get along… you can't leave them behind forever."

He stared at her.

"I know," she said simply. "You don't turn your back on family. You just don't."

There was an awkward pause. "Besides," she went on. "What we're doing out here? Saving people, hunting things… we're doing real good in this world, Sam. I mean, cosmetics are pretty important, but I think hunting evil trumps creating a new long-lasting foundation, don't you?"

Sam laughed. "Yeah," he murmured. "I guess so."

Lynn stared at him a moment, unsure how to say good bye. She remembered him holding her hand the night before, and suddenly decided to go for the hug. Standing on her tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around him at the highest point she could reach and gave him a squeeze.

Sam hugged her back, without the slightest trace of awkwardness.

They separated, and Lynn gave him a farewell pat on the arm. "Don't be a stranger," she said.

He gave her a wide, genuine smile. "Never."

Lynn smiled at him one last time, and then headed back to her stepsister's truck.

* * *

Sam leaned against the Impala next to his brother, watching as the Nissan rumbled past them. Jayne's truck got smaller and smaller as it travelled farther down the street, finally disappearing from view entirely.

They stood by the car silently for a moment, watching Larry and Matt interact at the top of the driveway. "I want to find Dad," Sam said suddenly.

"Yeah," his brother agreed. "I do too."

"Yeah, but I just…" Sam trailed off and swallowed. "I want to apologize to him."

Dean turned and looked at him. "For what?"

"All the things I said to him," Sam replied. "He was just doing the best he could."

There was a silence. "Well don't worry," Dean said. "We'll find him. And you'll apologize. And then five minutes later, you'll be at each other's throat."

Sam chuckled sadly. "Yeah, probably."

There was another pause. "Let's hit the road," Sam said.

"Let's," Dean agreed.

The two of them stood up off the Impala, climbed into the old black car and settled down for a long ride.

* * *


	25. Home

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to Nelle07, Celtergirl, Padme4000, angeleyenc, ThreeMoons, remyi, tbelle1234 and legrowl for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 25: Home

There was a tree.

A twisted tree, with barely any leaves on its pale white branches. The branches reached up and up towards the heavens, curving over like soft, round brushstrokes against the dark navy sky.

The small two story house behind the tree was dark, calm, serene.

The woman in the window was not. Sobbing, her blonde hair tussled, she pounded on the glass, screaming silently.

Sam Winchester woke up.

* * *

"All right," Dean said from the table by the window. "I've been cruising some websites, and I think I found some candidates for our next gig."

Sam didn't bother responding, too busy drawing on the pad of motel stationary he'd found in the drawer of the nightstand. So far, he'd filled the first ten pages with his scribbles, and he had a feeling he'd be filling the next ten as well.

The same picture, over and over again. The twisted tree with the curved white branches.

He could not, for the life of him, get the image out of his mind.

"Fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali," Dean went on from his spot on the on the other side of the cramped motel room. "Its crew vanished. And uh… we've got some cattle mutilations in west Texas…"

Sam continued drawing furiously, still not responding to his brother.

"Hey," Dean snapped.

Surprised, Sam looked up.

"Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?" Dean asked in a snarky tone.

"I'm listening," Sam replied calmly, even though he felt ready to jump through the motel ceiling. "Keep going."

"And here a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times."

Sam continued his sketching.

"Any of these blowing up your skirt, pal?"

But Sam had suddenly had a revelation, and could pay Dean's sarcasm no mind. It had just became clear to him why the tree would not leave him alone. "Wait," he said, pausing in his sketch. "I've seen this before."

"Seen what?"

Sam didn't answer. Sketch pad in hand, he rushed over to his duffel, and began fishing through the contents for his father's old, battered, leather-bound journal.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

Finding the prize, Sam turned to his bed and laid the journal out on the forest green comforter, flipping it open to the beginning. He yanked a yellowed envelope from the side pocket of the front cover and pulled out an old, wrinkled family photo.

His father, his mother, his brother, and him. All in front of the old Winchester home in Lawrence, Kansas and directly beside an old twisted beech tree.

"Dean, I know where we have to go next," Sam announced.

"Where?"

"Back home. Back to Kansas."

Dean frowned at him. "Ok, random. Where'd that come from?"

Sam stared at his brother for a moment, unsure how to answer that. "Um… all right. This photo." He ran over to Dean and laid the picture in question on the table. "It was taken outside our old house right? The house where Mom died?"

Dean stared at him. "Yeah."

"And it didn't burn down. At least, not completely. They rebuilt it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. What the hell are you talking about?"

"Ok, this is going to sound weird," Sam told his brother, sitting down at the table across from him. "But the people who live in our old house… I think they might be in danger."

"Why would you think that?"

"Uh…" Sam faltered. How to explain this to Dean without brining up his prophetic nightmares? "Uh… um… I just… look, just trust me on this, ok?"

He got up and headed across the room, where he began furiously packing his duffel. Dean got up too, following him. Sam could tell Dean had already decided he didn't like this new plan one bit.

"Trust you?" he repeated. "Come on, man, that's weak. You got give me a little more than that."

"I can't really explain it, is all."

"Well, tough!" Dean exploded. "I'm not going anywhere until you do!"

That was it, then. Sam took a deep breath and faced his brother. It was time to come clean.

"I have these nightmares," he said.

Dean stared at him. "I've noticed."

"And sometimes," Sam continued, ignoring the sidebar. "They come true."

Dean stared at him some more. "Come again?"

Sam swallowed. "Dean, I dreamt about Jessica's death… for days before it happened."

His brother shook his head, taking a seat on one of the beds. "Sam, man, people have weird dreams. I'm sure it was just a coincidence."

"No!" Sam insisted. "I dreamt about everything, Dean. The blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire… and I didn't do anything about it, because I didn't believe it…"

Dean looked away, shaking his head again.

"And it was more than that," Sam pushed on. "Stamping Ground?"

Dean looked back at his brother, frowning. "I didn't want to go to Kentucky because of Stephen Juarez," Sam announced. "I didn't want to go there because I thought it would help find Dad. And no, Dean, I didn't do it because I wanted to get in Lynn Juarez's pants!"

Dean shrugged. "Sure that had something to do with it."

"It didn't!" Sam bellowed. "I dreamt about that too! The explosion in the barn, Lynn almost dying… I dreamt that, Dean! And that time, I was going to be damned if I didn't stop it!"

His brother stared at him.

"And now, I'm dreaming about that tree," Sam finished. "About our house, and some woman screaming for help inside… I mean, that's where it all started! It has to mean something, right?"

There was a pause. Dean looked down at the photo in his hands.

"I don't… I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Sam exclaimed, sitting down across from him. "This woman might be in danger! I mean this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica…"

"All right, just slow down!" Dean practically shouted, getting to his feet.

Sam fell quiet.

"I mean, first you tell me that you've got the Shining?" Dean went on. "And then you tell me I got to go back home? Especially when…"

He trailed off, as if the next words were too hard to spit out.

"When what?" Sam demanded, too impatient to be gentle.

"When I swore to myself that I'd never go back there?"

Sam stared at his brother, surprised by the frank admission. Dean immediately looked away.

"Dean," Sam said softly. "Look. We've got to check this out. Just to be sure."

Dean turned around and looked Sam square in the eye. "I know we do."

There was a long silence. Feeling rather awkward as he did so, Sam slowly turned away from his brother and returned to his open duffel bag, resuming his packing.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked suddenly.

Sam stopped short, a pair of boxers slipping from his hands. "What?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean repeated. "About the nightmares?"

Sam shrugged. "I… I don't know."

"Is this the thing you were talking about in Toledo?" Dean demanded. Sam winced. "It is, isn't it? The great big secret you were going to use to summon Mary?"

Sam swallowed and looked at the floor.

"And then, you drag me off to Kentucky on some wild goose chase for clues about Dad?" Dean pushed on. "When really you were just trying to keep Lynn Juarez from burning up in a fire?"

Sam sighed and met his brother's eyes. "Look, Dean. I was scared, ok? I didn't understand what was happening to me – I _still_ don't understand what's happening to me. Look, I knew I should have told you all right? Even Lynn said…"

He trailed off, his mouth dropping in horror as he realized what he'd said. Dean blinked, taking a step back. His expression made Sam feel awful. Dean looked at Sam like his younger brother had just slapped him.

"Lynn?" Dean repeated. "Lynn said what, Sam?"

Sam shook his head, looking at the luggage. "Nothing."

But it was too late to backpedal now. Dean had a bone and he wasn't going to let it drop. "Lynn said you should tell me?

Sam didn't answer.

"And why would she say that?" Dean demanded, sounding even more heartbroken than he had when they'd been talking about home. "Unless she knew?"

Sam blinked, looking desperately at his brother. Dean kept bulldozing forward. "You told her?" Dean asked, his voice icy cold. "You told Lynn Juarez about your freaky little Haley Joel thing, but you didn't tell me?"

"Dean, it was an accident!" Sam pleaded. "I didn't tell her, I just… in Toledo, in that shop, Mary called me out, ok? She accused me of ignoring the dreams, and Lynn was standing right there! She heard every word! I didn't tell her… I didn't even want her to know!"

"But the point is she did!" Dean thundered. "She knew! I'm your brother, Sam! How could you keep something like that from me? How could you share that secret with some random girl you bumped into in the Colorado wilderness and yet not tell me?"

Sam sighed, his shoulders slumping, and trained his eyes on the floor. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not sure that's good enough."

"Dean…"

Dean turned his back on his brother, fishing his cell phone out of his jeans and flipping it open.

Sam felt awkward asking, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What are you doing? Who are you calling?"

"Jayne," Dean replied shortly, heading for the door.

"Why?" Sam asked incredulously, even though he knew why. He'd been about to call Lynn himself. He just couldn't believe Dean was going to call Jayne. It didn't sound like Dean at all.

"You said it yourself," his brother snapped, turning around to address him again. "If something's in that house, it could be the thing that killed Mom. And if it is… well, then it's also the thing that killed Ana Gibson."

Sam stared at him in shock.

"If we're about to kill that evil son of a bitch, they deserve in on it," Dean said. "We're all fighting the same thing here."

Sam wasn't really sure what to say. "But I thought you… I didn't think you would…"

"Oh, I'm pissed as hell about this," Dean cut him off. "I'm pissed that you didn't tell me about your nightmares, I'm pissed Lynn knew about them when I didn't… but I'm not going to cut them out just because you're an ass."

Sam blinked, stung.

"I'm calling Jayne," Dean said again, and then he stepped outside, slamming the motel room door behind him.

* * *

The sun shone in through the thin crack between two heavy maroon curtains hanging over the motel window. Jayne groaned at the irritating brightness shining right in her eyes and buried her head deeper in the uncomfortably squishy white pillow.

In the bed next to her, she heard Lynn snore loudly and rolled her eyes, grabbing her other pillow and slamming it down over her head.

When her cell phone began to ring, Jayne groaned a second time and considered ignoring it for about two seconds. Then the hunter's guilt kicked in and she sat up in bed, snatching it off the nightstand. She and Lynn had just wrapped up their latest case yesterday morning, and they needed a new one. If this was someone calling for help, she couldn't in good conscience ignore them.

"Hello?" she said in the phone, painfully aware of the grogginess in her voice.

"Rise and shine, Goldilocks," a horrifyingly familiar voice said on the other end, sounding all too pleased with itself.

Jayne frowned. "Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me."

Her frown deepened. "Are you calling me on the phone?" she asked incredulously.

"No, I'm using the microwave," he snapped irritably. "Yeah, I'm calling you on the freaking phone."

Still frowning, Jayne couldn't help but ask, "Why?"

"Geez, you're cranky. What's the matter, not enough beauty sleep?"

"Bite me," Jayne retorted. "Seriously, why are you calling me?"

There was a long pause. After a while, Jayne began to think he'd hung up on her. "Dean? You still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here."

"Well? Did you call me for a reason, or is waking me up just entertaining for you?"

"Look, um… Sam thinks he found a lead on the thing that killed our mom."

Suddenly, Jayne was wide awake… and very glad she was sitting down, as she was fairly certain the room had just spun. Her entire life, Russ had been hunting the thing that killed her mother, and as far as she knew he'd never once caught hide nor hair of it. If Sam had actually found a clue…

"Jayne? Still there?"

She started, realizing she'd been silent too long. "Yeah. I'm here."

"I know, I know," he said, his voice cocky. "Just blew your mind, didn't I?"

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah. My mind's blown. Now, did you just say Sam has a lead on the thing that killed my mother?"

"Yep. At least, we think it's a lead."

"What do you mean, you think?"

"Well, um… Sam thinks that the people who moved into our old house – the house that caught fire and everything – Sam thinks these people are in danger."

Jayne frowned. "From what, exactly?"

"See, that's the thing," Dean replied. "We're not sure. But we think there's a possibility it's the thing that got our mom, and your mom, and Sam's girlfriend. So in about twenty minutes, we're heading out to Lawrence, Kansas to check it out, and, um… I thought you should know."

Jayne got out of bed, her mouth set in a grim and determined line. "We'll be there."

"Good. That's what I thought you'd say."

Jayne began to gather her things. She was just about to say goodbye to Dean and hang up her phone, when suddenly, she thought of something. "How'd you find out about this?" she asked, frowning. "What made you think something was going on in your old house?"

Dean chuckled rather bitterly. "Why don't you ask your stepsister?"

Jayne froze, the socks in her hand tumbling to the floor. Her frown deepening, she glanced over at Lynn's sleeping form. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked Dean coldly.

"Look, Sam just told me something kind of weird, and… well, apparently your stepsister's known about it for months now."

Jayne didn't like the sound of that. Her lips pursed together tightly and she glowered at nothing in particular. "What?"

Dean sighed. For a moment, he said nothing.

"Dean," she snapped. "What's going on? Tell me right now."

"I don't know," he snapped back. "I just… look, Sam's been having nightmares, ok?"

"Yeah, I know. We've already had this conversation."

"It's more than that. He says… goddamn it, this is going to sound so stupid..."

"Tell me what's going on Dean, or I swear…"

"Sam's nightmares are coming true."

Jayne had expected bad news, but she definitely hadn't expected Dean to say Sam was the next Tru Davies. "What?"

"Sam's been having nightmares," Dean repeated himself, saying the words slowly. "And some of them are coming true."

Jayne wasn't sure what to say to that. "Um… ok…"

"Yeah, I know," he barked. "It sounds insane. But I guess… I guess what happened to his girlfriend back at Stanford, and what almost happened to your sister in Kentucky… he saw those things before they happened. And now… he's dreaming about our house and some chick inside screaming. So…"

He took a deep breath and let out loud sigh. "So, yeah," he finished.

Jayne frowned, suddenly remembering what he'd said earlier. "And you're telling me Lynn knew about this?"

"Ever since Toledo."

She instantly saw red. Kicking the bed she'd slept in, she bellowed, "I'll kill her!"

In the next bed over, Lynn jumped, poked her head up out of the covers… and then almost instantly went to sleep.

Rolling her eyes, Jayne stormed out of the motel room to continue the conversation. "She is dead. I mean that."

"Yeah, I know how you feel."

She sighed, leaning against the exterior wall. "Lawrence, Kansas?"

"Yeah. Here, let get me the address."

Jayne listened as he rattled off the street and house number, and then saved the address in her phone. "You're leaving in twenty minutes?" she asked.

"Yeah. We're about six hours out."

"We're pretty close too," Jayne told him. "Meet you in front of the house?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"Ok." Jayne took a deep breath. "Um… thank you Dean. For calling."

"Hey, it's your fight too, right?"

"It is," she agreed. "But still… you didn't have to give me the heads up. So… thanks."

"Anytime, Goldilocks."

She could practically hear that infuriating little smirk of his coming through the line. "Goodbye, Dean."

"See you."

Jayne hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and then marched back inside the motel room. Flicking on the overhead lights, she hollered at her stepsister, "Wake up!"

Lynn jumped again, sitting up ever so slightly and blinking in confusion.

"Get out of bed," Jayne snapped. "We're going to Kansas."

Lynn sat all the way up, frowning at her stepsister. "Kansas?" she repeated sleepily.

"Yeah. Get up. Now."

"All right, fine. Dorothy," Lynn grumbled, crawling out of bed. Jayne began getting dressed, not bothering with a shower. "Why Kansas?"

"Dean called," Jayne said shortly. "They've got a lead on the thing that killed my mom."

Lynn froze halfway inside the bathroom. "What?"

"You heard me," Jayne returned. She wasn't feeling up to the sharing and caring portion of this discussion. She was pissed at Lynn, and Lynn was going to hear about it… the entire time they were driving to Lawrence. "Get ready. Now."

Mumbling something under her breath, Lynn stumbled all the way in the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Jayne sighed, stuffing clothes and weapons into her duffel bag. This hunt was already off to a bad start. She hoped that wasn't foreshadowing. Because when it came to finally getting revenge on this bastard… she needed all the good luck she could get.

* * *

The ride to Kansas was long, and mostly silent.

At first, Lynn thought Jayne was tired, and that's why she wasn't talking. Not that Jayne talked that much anyway, but she had been especially quiet that day, and it was enough to make Lynn wonder about it.

Jayne was gripping the wheel of the old Nissan just a little too tightly. But Lynn chalked that up to nerves. After all, they might be about to find the thing they'd searched for all their lives.

Jayne's eyes would not leave the road. She barely looked at her stepsister. As the land around them got flatter and flatter, Lynn gave up on making conversation. Jayne would only reply in grunts and monosyllables.

She'd turned instead to research. Pulling out one of her father's notebooks, she began leafing through it for information on the thing that had killed Ana. The entire time her dad had worked as a hunter, he had kept a diary of all the things he'd encountered, going into great detail about every last one, and filled up at least twenty giant yellow steno pads throughout the years. Lynn had chosen one of the pads he'd started about the time of Ana's death and began reading through it, hoping for clues.

They'd been on the road a good hour and a half when Jayne suddenly spoke.

"So, Dean told me something interesting."

Lynn looked up from the notebook in her lap. "What did he say?" she asked.

Jayne kept her eyes focused steadfastly on the road. "Well, I guess the way Sam picked up this clue was sort of unusual."

Lynn frowned, closing her father's notebook. "What do you mean?"

Jayne shrugged. "I guess he had a nightmare about his old house."

Lynn's stomach suddenly sank. "A nightmare?"

"Yeah," Jayne said, a short, dry chuckle escaping her throat. "Dean said Sam was really freaked out. Said he'd seen a woman screaming for help in the old Winchester home. And apparently, he's had dreams before that have come true. At least, that's what he told Dean this morning."

Lynn swallowed. "That's um… different."

"Yeah," Jayne said ironically. "Really different. I mean, can you believe that? The guy's been having these 'visions' or whatever since his girlfriend died. That was months ago."

Lynn nodded mutely.

"And he never told his brother," Jayne shook her head. "I find that hard to understand."

"Maybe he was scared," Lynn suggested. "I mean, just having nightmares in general has got to be pretty disturbing. For them to start coming true… I mean, I'd be freaked out."

"Mm-hmm," Jayne murmured.

There was a long, painful silence.

"Dean was plenty pissed though," Jayne announced.

Lynn played with the edge of the steno pad. "I'll bet."

"I mean, it was bad enough Sam hadn't told him about the dreams," Jayne went on. "But then, Dean found out something else."

Swallowing, Lynn looked out the window, chewing her bottom lip. Somehow, she suspected that 'something else' was about her.

"Sam had told another person about his dreams. Some girl he barely knew! So he'd been talking to this girl about his weirdo visions the whole time, and completely shutting his brother out!"

Lynn winced.

"You know what I find really interesting," Jayne pushed on, her voice two decimals away from yelling. "Is that this girl happened to be my stepsister!"

Again, Lynn winced. "Jaynie, I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologize to me," Jayne snapped. "What the hell were you thinking, huh? I want to know what went through your mind when you decided to keep something like that from me!"

"What went through my mind?" Lynn asked incredulously. "Oh, I don't know! Maybe that it wasn't my secret to tell?"

"Bull shit!" Jayne barked. "You barely knew him, Lynn! Those visions could have meant anything…!"

"No, they couldn't have!" Lynn exclaimed. "So he's been dreaming about the future! I mean… ok, weird, but not exactly life-threatening for those around him!"

"I don't care!" Jayne shouted at her. "I need to know these things, Lynn! I'm your stepsister! I'm your family!"

"No one said you weren't," Lynn murmured softly.

"No, but you're sure acting like I'm not," she snapped. "You'd known Sam for how long back in Toledo? Three months tops? You've known me your whole life, Lynn, and you throw your chips in with some bozo we picked up in the woods?"

"It wasn't like that, ok!" Lynn exclaimed. "I wasn't trying to betray you! And Sam hadn't even told me on purpose, you know? I overheard Mary in the mirror. He certainly wasn't planning to tell me about it!"

"It doesn't matter!"

"It does! Look, Sam should have told his brother, I admit that! I told him as much! But he begged me not to tell anyone, and I couldn't just spill his secrets to everyone I met! He needed to tell Dean on his own terms, Jayne, and if I had told you, you know damn well you would have marched right up to Dean and told him everything! You know you would have!"

"That's not…"

"You're as bad as Rufus," Lynn carried on. "You're all 'family is family' and all that stupid loyalty shit… you'd have been pissed at me for getting involved with them, you'd have thought something was wrong with Sam, and you would have told Dean all about the dreams, because you'd have thought he needed to know! All I'd hear is 'Dean's his brother' and 'I can't keep a secret like that' and…"

"You're an asshole," Jayne interrupted, and the name wasn't used as a term of endearment. Lynn winced. "Don't you dare put this on me. You have no idea what I would have done. But you're right; Sam should have told Dean. And you should have told me."

"You're not my mother," Lynn replied sullenly.

Jayne's jaw tightened. "Thank god for that."

They lapsed into silence. Neither of them said a word the rest of the way to Kansas.

* * *

Dean had barely spoken to him since the scene in the motel room.

Sam didn't know how to make him talk, either. Dean would respond to his questions with one word answers, and grunts, and occasionally biting comments. All Sam wanted was to take it back. He wanted to go back to Toledo, to that moment in the car, right before he'd seen Jessica on the street corner, and answer Dean's question.

He wanted to make everything between them all right again.

But Dean wasn't having any of that. And now, here they were in Kansas, sitting in the Impala in front of their old house, staring at it like the door was going to open up and bite them.

It was a small, blue two-story house; nothing very extraordinary about it. The grass was a healthy shade of green, and there were freshly fallen leaves strewn about the yard.

The tree was still there.

Sam watched his brother intently as Dean stared at the house. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked, knowing all too well what a pointless question that was.

"I'll get back to you on that."

They sat there quietly. Sam spoke. "We should…"

"I'm waiting for somebody."

They fell silent again. The minutes ticked by. Finally, Sam's ears picked up the familiar rumble of Jayne's pickup truck.

Two seconds later, the gray pickup appeared in the rearview mirror, and parked at the curb behind them. Sam clambered out of the car immediately, but Dean hovered. For a brief moment Sam eyed his brother warily, and then he went to meet Jayne and Lynn.

The two of them climbed down out of the cab. Jayne's expression was stony, and Sam instantly knew she was as pissed off as Dean.

"Hey," he greeted them.

Jayne grunted.

"Hi, Sam," Lynn said, mustering up a half-hearted smile.

A door slammed behind him. Sam glanced over his shoulder and saw Dean, now out of the car, making his way towards the group.

"Hi Dean," Lynn greeted him.

Dean barely looked at her. Instead, he smirked at Jayne and said, "Howdy, Goldilocks."

Jayne glared at him, but Sam noticed her glare seemed much friendlier than it normally did. "Dean," she said. "I'm going to punch you in the head."

Dean chuckled. "Let's go," he said, leading the way to the front door. Jayne fell into step beside him.

Sam and Lynn followed them, maintaining a safe distance. Lynn crossed her arms in front of her. "What did I do to him?" she asked.

Sam glanced at Dean and then gave Lynn a reassuring smile. "Nothing," he said. "He's just pissed at me. Which means he's pissed at you by association."

Lynn snorted. "Great."

"I'm assuming the same goes for Jayne?"

"Oh yeah," Lynn replied, rolling her eyes. "She hates me right now. But apparently, Dean's her new best friend."

Sam laughed softly. "Yeah," he mused. "I guess they're trying to present a united front."

Lynn rolled her eyes again. "Yeah," she agreed. "It's like they're our parents, and we've been naughty children." She looked over at Sam, squinting up her eyes. "I am twenty-four, right? That happened? I didn't dream it?"

Sam laughed again. "They'll get over it. I guess I kind of deserve it, though. I should have told Dean a long time ago."

"Well, I don't deserve it," Lynn was quick to say. "I didn't do a damn thing wrong. It was your secret, not mine. Jayne didn't need to know."

Sam didn't reply to that, mostly because he was unsure what the correct reply to that statement was. On the one hand, he was grateful that she'd kept his secret for him. On the other hand… well, he could see how Jayne felt about the situation too.

That didn't mean he agreed with her, though. Lynn had a point; it hadn't been her secret to tell, and the state of his nightmares held no real bearing on the stepsister's lives. Still, finding out someone you trusted had been keeping secrets from you…

Sam wasn't sure whose side to be on.

They'd reached the front door of the house now. Sam frowned at the building, his eyes roving over it. He wished he could remember being here before. He wished he could remember a lot of things; his dad before he was a hunter, his mother, what Dean had been like when he was younger…

The memories must have been pouring on in for Dean. But to Sam… this was just another house.

Dean rang the doorbell.

A few seconds passed, and then the door swung open. A slender, pretty blonde woman stood in the doorway, her hair pulled halfway back from her face and a dishtowel in her hand. Sam bit his lip to keep from gasping out loud.

It was the woman from his nightmare.

She frowned at the four strangers on her front porch. "Yes?"

"Sorry to bother you ma'am," Dean said smoothly. "But we're with…"

"My name's Sam Winchester, and this is my brother Dean," Sam interrupted his brother, reaching out to shake the woman's hand. "We used to live here. You know, we were just driving by with our friends here – this is Lynn Juarez, that's Jayne Gibson – and we were wondering if maybe we could come see the old place."

He had no clue if the woman before him would bite the line. He could feel Dean's eyes on him, glaring at him for giving their real names. Just as Sam was about to regret his story, the woman surprised him. "Winchester," she repeated, smiling. "You know, it's so funny. I think I found some of your old photos the other night."

"You did?" Dean asked, and Sam could hear the note of anxiety in his brother' voice.

"Yeah," the woman said, still smiling. "Um… come in."

She led the way inside. Sam followed, hot on her heels, and the other three filed in behind him.

They walked down a narrow hall. There was dark, hard wood flooring beneath the heavy soles of his shoes. The walls were painted a boring off-white color. There was almost nothing hanging on them… barely any sort of decoration of all. In fact, Sam noticed several unpacked boxes in the rooms around them.

He wished he could remember how the house looked when it had belonged to his parents.

The new owner of the house led them into the dimly lit kitchen. There was more dark wood flooring there, and dark cabinetry. As they stepped into the room, Sam noticed an elementary school age girl with long brown hair sitting at the kitchen table and doing her homework. In the adjoining room was a large playpen with wooden railings, where a small blonde boy jumped up and down, clutching a stuffed animal and chanting, "Juice! Juice! Juice!"

"This is Ritchie," the woman announced, going to the fridge and pulling out a sippy-cup for the toddler. "He's kind of a juice junkie."

She ran over to the playpen and handed the cup to the small boy. "But hey! At least you won't get scurvy."

The woman – Jenny, she'd said her name was – walked back into the kitchen and came to a stop behind the young girl, placing her hands on the child's shoulders. "And this is Sari. Sari, this is Sam, Dean, Jayne, and Lynn. Sam and Dean used to live here."

"Hi, Sari," Sam murmured softly, giving the girl a kind smile.

"Hi," she said shyly.

There was a pause. "So," Dean said suddenly. "You just moved in?"

"Yeah," Jenny nodded. "From Wichita."

"You got family here?"

Immediately, Sam noticed how the question unsettled Jenny. Her large brown eyes suddenly got sad and distant. "No," she replied uncomfortably. "I just, um… needed a fresh start, that's all."

Sam nodded understandingly. Beside him, Dean did the same. Jenny still looked uncomfortable. Sam wasn't sure what to make of it all, so he glanced over his shoulder at Lynn to see how her and her stepsister were reacting to all this. Lynn was frowning at Jenny, and Sam was sure he'd seen that frown before. She looked like she was trying to figure the woman out; pick up on what was upsetting her.

Jayne, on the other hand, wasn't looking at Jenny at all. She wasn't looking at anyone, actually. One hand was resting on her hip, and she was examining the ceiling over her head.

Shaking his head, Sam turned back to Jenny, who tried to force a smile for them all. "So," she said a tad too brightly. "New town, new job… that is, as soon as I find one. New house."

She turned away then, heading for the sink with Sari's empty milk glass. "Well, it's a very nice house," Lynn spoke up suddenly, and Sam turned to her in surprise. "I mean, Sam always told me it was nice, but I'd never seen the inside before. It looks great."

Jenny offered her a smile over her shoulder. Lynn bulldozed on. "I don't know much about the area, but the town seems real pretty, you know? How do you like it? You know, from what you've seen so far?"

"Uh…" Jenny put the glass in the sink and then turned to face them once again, leaning on the counter. "Well, my neighbors are friendly. I just… haven't really gotten out yet. Been busy unpacking."

Lynn nodded sympathetically. "Right. Of course. The house been working out the way you wanted?"

"Um… well…" Jenny looked hesitant to give her real opinion on the place. "I mean, all due respect to your childhood home…" She nodded at Sam and Dean. "I mean, I'm sure you have lots of happy memories here…"

Dean gave her a smile Sam could tell he didn't mean.

"But this place has its issues."

Sam swallowed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just getting old," Jenny replied. "Like the wiring. We have flickering lights almost hourly."

"That's too bad," Dean spoke up. "What else?"

Jenny turned back to the sink, wiping down the countertop. "Well… the sink's backed up, there's rats in the basement…."

She stopped, looking up at the faces of the four hunters across the kitchen. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I don't mean to complain."

"It's all right," Dean said quickly. "Have you seen the rats, or have you just heard the scratching?"

Jenny frowned. "Um… just the scratching, actually…"

"Mommy?" Sari spoke suddenly.

"Yeah?" Jenny asked, kneeling beside her daughter.

"Ask them if it was here when they lived here."

Jenny looked uncomfortable again. Sam pounced. "What, Sari?"

Sari looked him dead in the eye. "The thing in my closet."

"Oh, no, baby," Jenny quickly swooped in. "There's nothing in their closets. Right?"

She turned beseeching eyes on the four other adults in her kitchen.

"Right," Sam said quickly, although his heart wasn't exactly in it. "No, of course not."

"See?" Jenny said, turning to Sari. She smiled back at the four hunters. "She had a nightmare the other night."

"I wasn't dreaming," Sari returned. Her tone wasn't even petulant; it was simply certain. "It came into my bedroom. And it was on fire."

* * *

Outside, Jayne lagged behind as Dean and Sam practically tore from their old home like the hounds of Hell were on their tails. Her stepsister jogged to keep up with them, but Jayne didn't bother.

Despite her distance from them, she could hear the boys arguing loud and clear. "You hear that?" Sam demanded. He was both angry and triumphant all at once, and Jayne couldn't help but think he was overreacting. "A figure on fire."

Dean's tone was equally snippy. "And that woman, Jenny? That was the woman in your dream?"

"Yeah," Sam practically snapped. "And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching! Flickering lights! Both signs of a malevolent spirit!"

He was so close to Dean's face as he carried on that he was just about spitting on his older brother. "Yeah, well," Dean retorted, sounding both tired and frustrated. "I'm just freaked out your weirdo visions are coming true."

"Well forget about that for a moment!" Sam exclaimed. "The thing in the house? Do you think it's the same thing that killed Mom and Jessica?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, do you think it came back, or has it been there the whole time?"

"Or maybe it's something else entirely, Sam, we don't know yet!"

"Well those people are in danger, Dean! We have to get them out of that house!"

"And we will."

"No, I mean now!"

"And how are we going to do that, huh? You got a story that she's going to believe?"

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"I'll tell what you're going to do," Jayne said as they all came to a stop by their cars. "You're going to calm the fuck down."

Sam, Dean, and even Lynn – who had been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time the brothers were arguing – turned to stare at her. "What?" Sam asked.

"You're going to calm down," she repeated evenly. "And approach this rationally, like the experienced hunter you are. Not like some desperate teenager hopped up on Red Bull."

Sam blinked. "Now," she went on. "I'm going to be straight with you two. I don't know much more about this business than you do. All I've got are Russ's journals to go on, and he wasn't exactly forthcoming when it came to my mother – not even in his writing. But I'll tell you this much; one, there's definitely something in that house. Two, I seriously doubt that whatever's in there is the same thing that killed your mother."

"How do you know that?" Dean demanded.

"Just by listening to what Jenny said," Lynn spoke up. "The scratching, the flickering lights… my dad didn't record anything like that in his journals. I mean, I'm willing to bet there's some kind of nasty spirit in that house, but… it just doesn't sound the same. What my dad wrote down from around the time of Ana's death… ok, honestly? It's kind of weird."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"He wrote down the weather report," Jayne said. "Recorded the weather we had for an entire week up till the fire. He even pasted the farm report for the entire month in that journal."

"Weather?" Dean asked. "The farm report?"

"We think he was looking for omens," Jayne replied. "Thunderstorms, crop failures… I mean, we don't know for sure. Russ didn't tell us much. Then he died and just… never really got the chance."

"I don't get it," Dean interrupted. "Omens for what?"

"Demonic omens," Jayne explained. "We think… we think he was looking for demonic omens."

"Demonic omens?" Sam repeated. "Wait, are you saying…?"

"Yeah," Jayne cut him off. "We think maybe what killed my mom was a demon."

"We could be wrong," Lynn was quick to say. "We don't know for sure. We don't really know anything for sure, but… we think, at the very least, that my dad _thought_ it was a demon."

"So then what the hell is in our old house?" Dean demanded.

"Malevolent spirit, like Sam said?" Lynn returned. "I don't know. Maybe it's the same thing, maybe it's not. What Jayne says is true… we don't know much more than you."

There was a long silence. "All right," Dean said, taking a deep breath and letting it out. "Well, I need gas. And I'm sure Jenny is starting to wonder why the hell we're standing in the street outside her house, so… let's go find a gas station, and continue this there. All right?"

"Sounds like a plan," Jayne agreed, heading for her truck.

Dean got into his car. Sam got in as well. Lynn clambered into the passenger seat of the pickup just as Jayne closed her door. "Do you think we found it?" she asked almost immediately. "Do you think it's possible?"

"I don't know," Jayne returned, starting the ignition. "Maybe. Maybe not. This wasn't in Russ's journal."

"I know, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"I know."

They followed the Impala down the quiet street. "All I know is that those boys are really freaked out right about now," Lynn said.

"Mm-hmm."

"I mean, I'm not exactly fine with all this either. But they're… they're losing it, Jaynie."

"Yeah, well, this is their home," Jayne said. "And I don't know about you, but the possibility of finally killing the thing that took my mom away doesn't exactly leave me feeling calm and collected."

"True. Bet we'd be acting just like them if this was Connecticut, huh?"

"Probably."

There was a long silence. "Jayne, I don't want to fight," Lynn sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Sam. Can we just… can you just forgive me and get over it?"

Jayne gritted her teeth. The question, although meant innocently, was enough to make her crash the car and kill them both. But she took a deep breath and forced herself to answer, "Yeah. Whatever."

Lynn stared at her. Jayne ignored her. "You're still mad, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," Jayne snapped.

Lynn looked away.

Jayne sighed. "Lynn… look, I just…"

Her stepsister stared at her. Jayne wouldn't meet her eyes. Swallowing, she simply said, "What's happening to this family?"

"I don't know," Lynn replied, sighing. "I just… don't know."

* * *


	26. Missouri Mosely

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to angeleyenc, Nelle07, Lov3good, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, Padme4000, ThreeMoons, and legrowl for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 26: Missouri Mosely

"We just chill out," Dean announced as he forced the gas nozzle into the Impala's tank. "That's all. I mean, if this were any other kind of job, what would we do?"

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the trunk of the car. Sam stood by the passenger side door, his back against the metal. On the other side of the pump, Jayne had parked Janis and was filling her gas tank as well. She was tilted back against her truck, arms crossed, while her stepsister fidgeted uncomfortably in the small space between the two pumps.

For a moment, no one bothered to answer his question, and Dean began to think he was going to have to answer it himself. Finally, Sam took a deep breath and spoke. "We try to figure out what we're dealing with. We check into the history of the house…"

"Exactly," Dean cut him off. "Except this time we already know what happened."

"Do we?" Sam challenged him. Dean's head swung from the pump to his brother's face. "I mean, how much do you really remember about that night?"

Dean didn't reply right away. "Not much," he said after a moment, straightening up and shoving his hands inside his coat pockets. He felt distinctly uncomfortable. He shuffled around a bit, waiting a second before going on.

"I remember the fire," he said finally. "The heat."

He paused again, making a point of not looking at Sam. "And then I carried you out the front door."

A long awkward silence followed his proclamation; the sort of silence that made Dean beg for someone to shoot him. "You did?" Sam finally asked.

"Yeah," he replied gruffly, still not really looking at his brother. He tried to make it sound like no big deal. "What, you never knew that?"

Sam stared at him, and Dean wished he would quit it. "No," he said softly.

Dean swallowed, glancing over at Jayne and her pickup truck, trying to find somewhere else to look, anywhere that wasn't Sam. Jayne met his gaze quite evenly, and for a moment, Dean regretted choosing that particular direction to turn his head. It was that look she often gave him – that look she often gave everyone; open, blank, unreadable… unwavering.

He swallowed again, and glanced away. This time he found Lynn looking at him. She looked sad; sympathetic, almost. But it was more than that. She wasn't just sad for him, for Sam… she was sad for herself.

Dean spoke again, quickly continuing the story simply for the sake of ending all the awkward and angsty crap. "And then… well, you know Dad's story as well as I do. Mom was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her."

"And he never had a theory about what did it?"

"If he did, he kept it to himself." His hands still jammed in his pockets, Dean walked around the bumper of the Impala and leaned beside Sam. "God knows we asked him enough times."

There was another awkward pause. Sam looked up from the pavement and caught Lynn's eye. "But your dad did," he said.

Dean looked up at Lynn too.

She nodded. "Right. We think so."

"A demon," Sam pressed.

"That's the theory. At least, based on his evidence," Lynn sighed. "If it was a demon… there was a crop failure that year, in the area. Bad buzz on the dairy farms. An electrical storm that week, before the fire. There were signs."

"Where did you live?" Sam asked curiously.

"Coventry, Connecticut," Lynn replied.

"What happened to the house?" Sam pushed on. "I mean, has there been anything else in the past years…"

"The house burned to the ground," Jayne interrupted him. Her tone was terse, businesslike. "Russ sold the property. It's a grocery store now."

There was a long pause. "A grocery store?" Dean repeated.

"That's what I said," Jayne practically snapped.

The air became tense and uncomfortable. "Ok," Sam said finally, his voice careful. "Then I guess… if we want to know what's happening now, our best bet is to find out what happened then. So… we need to talk to our dad's friends, business partners, neighbors… that sort of thing. Um… Dean, we could start on that. Lynn, Jayne…"

He looked over at the two women and faltered. "Um…"

"We'll check the weather reports," Lynn supplied for him. "The farm report, too. Area newspapers from over the past week or so, that kind of thing. See if there's been omens. Like in Coventry."

"Ok," Sam nodded, sighing. "That… that's good. I guess. Yeah. I mean… I just… I don't know, you guys. Does this feel like just another job to you?"

Dean felt his brother's eyes on the side of his face and shifted under Sam's stare, feeling hot and uncomfortable. He needed to leave. Clearing his throat, Dean pushed himself off the side of the car and started walking. "I'll be right back," he said. "I've got to go to the bathroom."

He could still feel Sam's eyes as he left the pump. His boots pounded on the gray cement of the gas station parking lot as he got closer to the small, white building. He ducked around the corner, heading towards the bathroom and stopping at the back of the building, just past the bathroom door.

He drew his cell phone out of his jacket pocket, flipped it open and dialed an all too familiar number, a number he'd dialed so many times over the past few months that he'd lost track of them all. He waited for the voicemail to pick up, the way it always did, and listened to the deep, scratchy baritone of his father's voice on the other end.

"This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son Dean. He'll know what to do."

"Dad," he said into the phone.

He paused, unsure.

Suddenly, the words poured out.

"I know I've left you messages before. I don't even know if you get them. But I'm with Sam. And we're in Lawrence. And there's something in our old house. I don't know if it's the thing that killed Mom, or not, but…"

His voice broke. "I don't know what to do," he said, feeling like a little boy again. "So, whatever you're doing, if you could get here. Please… I need your help, Dad."

He hung up almost violently, shoving the phone back into his jacket. His eyes were burning, and he blinked rapidly, trying to force the salty tears back wherever they had come from. He was seized with an overwhelming urge to kick the wall.

Taking a deep breath, Dean forced himself not to take out his feelings on the innocent gas station, and wiped hurriedly at his eyes. He gave his head a shake, trying to compose himself. When he was sure he was ready, he turned back towards the car and walked furiously away from the bathrooms, rounding the corner.

He nearly ran right into Jayne, who was quickly approaching from the opposite direction. "Whoa," he said, stopping just in time. "Where the hell are you going?"

Dean knew he sounded annoyed, and unreasonably so, but he couldn't help it. If she had been there when he… if she had heard…

"Looking for you," she retorted, sounding rather annoyed herself. She had two drinks in her hands and a bag of chips. "Lynn was hungry, so… we all went and got… lunch, I guess."

She handed him the chips and one of the drinks. "I remembered you like the sour cream and onion ones," she said awkwardly, her eyes trained on the ground.

He blinked, surprised. "Oh. Thanks."

"That's all?" she asked, suddenly meeting his eyes. "Thanks? That's all I get? I had to beat down an old man for those. They were the last bag."

He blinked again. She smiled. "Kidding."

He forced a smile too. "Right."

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. "Uh… you all right?" she asked suddenly.

He frowned at her. "Yeah. I'm great."

"It's just, um… you look kind of…" Dean's frown deepened, and Jayne cut herself off. "Never mind."

"Ok," he said slowly, forcing himself to give her an odd expression. She smiled at him again, but her smile looked just as forced as his expression felt. "Um… we should get going."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Hey, I just… with all this crap, I was thinking…"

He stared at her. Again, she changed her mind and said only, "Never mind."

Dean chuckled softly. "You got something to say, you can say it."

"No, I don't," she replied. "I don't have anything… to say… I was just…" she sighed. "It's not important."

Then she turned around and practically ran to her truck.

Dean watched her go, puzzled, and then shook his head. He had no idea what that was all about, but…

Sighing, he opened the chips.

* * *

"Did you call Stephen?"

Jayne jumped at the sudden question, looking up from the newspaper spread out in front of her on the table.

Her sister sat across from her, her dark eyes peering over the top of her computer, both curious and apprehensive.

Jayne sighed, leaning back in the uncomfortably hard wood chair. "Yeah."

It was deathly still in the Lawrence library, even quieter than one would expect it to be. Jayne suspected she and her stepsister were the only two people in the place – except for the librarian, who was actually sleeping on the other side of the large, white, brightly lit room. Her head was propped up on her fist, her elbow resting on the circulation desk.

"And?"

Jayne looked at Lynn again, seeing that same anxious, expectant look in her brown eyes. "And what?" she snapped. "Same as always. Wrong number."

Lynn sighed, slumping in her seat. "Dolores?"

"Yep." Jayne turned the page of her newspaper. "You know, I'm sure Dolores Finkel is a perfectly nice person, but damn. That woman doesn't speak a word of English."

"What do you think he did?" Lynn asked. "Got a new cell phone, new number… and the phone company gave the old one to this… Finkel woman?"

"Seems like," Jayne shook her head. "You know, I'm beginning to think we taught that boy too well? He sure knows how to disappear."

"You can say that again."

They lapsed back into silence, quietly returning to their research. After a minute, Lynn spoke again. "It just doesn't seem right, you know?"

Jayne looked up again. "This hunt?" Lynn went on. "If this really is the thing that got Ana… it just doesn't feel right, going after it alone. Stephen… Stephen should be here."

Jayne shrugged, looking back down at the newspaper. "Yeah, well, that's life. Nothing works out the way it should. I'm used to it by now."

They were quiet again. "I hate it when you do that," Lynn said suddenly.

"When I do what?"

"What you just did. You get all cranky and bitter… and try to disguise it as some sort of joke. You make those pessimistic comments and… and shut down. I hate that."

Jayne sighed. "Do we really have to do this right now?"

"I guess not. But then when _will_ we do it?"

"Never sounds good."

"There you go again."

"Lynn…"

"Look, I know this sucks," Lynn interrupted. "I know it does; I hate this as much as you do. But… we don't have to make it suck worse. It sucks enough on its own."

"You know you just used the word 'sucks' like three times in a row?"

Lynn sighed. "Jayne."

"I don't know what you want from me," Jayne told her honestly. "You've known me your whole life. You know who I am. And I can't just… I can't have these conversations with you. Ok? I don't… I don't want to talk about this stuff. For the life of me, I can't figure out why you need to."

Lynn simply looked at her. "I'm sorry we have to do this right now."

Jayne stared.

"I'm sorry you have to sit here and look through these papers and hope for something that can be interpreted as a demonic omen," Lynn pushed on. "I'm sorry this case makes you think of Ana. I'm sorry it makes you think about Stephen. I'm sorry that you can't just shut down and forget about it because it's right in your face, right now. I'm sorry. It hurts me too. Ana wasn't my mom, but she was the closest thing and… and I wish I could remember her the way you do."

There was a long awkward silence. Jayne stared at her stepsister, and Lynn looked right back at her. Finally, Jayne asked, "Did you find anything?"

Lynn shook her head. "No. I didn't. Not one little omen."

"Then it's not the thing we thought it was."

"No. Unless Russ was wrong, and it wasn't a demon that came that night…"

"Right," Jayne interrupted. "Should we pack it in? Call the Winchesters? Or keep looking?"

Lynn wrinkled her nose, thinking about the question. Before she could answer, her phone vibrated on the table.

Snatching up the phone before the librarian awoke, Lynn flipped it open and said, "Hello?"

Jayne assumed it was Sam. "Yeah, we're still at the library. So far? Nada. I'm thinking whatever's in that house… sure as hell ain't a demon."

Sam said something, and Lynn laughed. "A palm reader?"

There was a pause. "Ok, ok. Um… we'll meet you there. Give me the address."

Lynn wrote down whatever Sam read off to her. "Ok. See you in ten."

She hung up the phone. "Sam and Dean just talked to their father's old business partner – he owned a garage with John. He told them John went to see this palm reader, Missouri Mosely… anyway, they're going to meet with her in a few minutes, and I said we'd come along."

"Great," Jayne grumbled. "Palm reader. That's perfect."

"She could be the real deal," Lynn informed her. "Not all of them are con artists. And if John Winchester went to see her, well…"

"Yeah, yeah," Jayne rolled her eyes. "Let's just go."

* * *

It was a normal looking house from the outside. A white, plain faced, two-story colonial with bright hanging baskets on the front porch.

Inside, the house still looked relatively normal. The foyer was furnished and finished in dark wood. Sam sat on a hard bench with curly iron metal work, his brother next to him. The bench was pressed up against the straight, dark staircase.

Across from him, in two wooden chairs, sat Jayne and Lynn. Lynn was chewing her lip nervously, wringing her hands in her lap. Jayne had her arms crossed over her chest, and she was leaning back in the chair, staring at the ceiling, with her legs sprawled out in front of her.

"Don't you worry about a thing," a sweet, high-pitched drawl sounded from the room behind the staircase. "Your wife's crazy about you."

Sam watched as a plump, African-American woman with big, frizzy dark hair led a short, pale man in flannel to the front door. He stepped outside, thanking her, and she closed the door behind him.

"Poor bastard," she said, turning back to the four of them. "His woman is cold banging the gardener."

Sam's jaw dropped. He looked over at Lynn, whose mouth was hanging open much like his own. She turned wide eyes on Sam. Jayne raised her eyebrow, also looking surprised and at the same time amused.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Dean asked from beside him, sounding as stunned as Sam felt.

"People don't come here for the truth," Missouri Mosely replied, her hand on her hip. "They come for good news."

Sam looked over at Dean, even more surprised now. His brother cocked his eyebrow at him. "Well?" Missouri asked impatiently. "Sam, Dean, come on already. I ain't got all day."

Sharing one more shocked look with his brother, Sam got to his feet and followed her into the next room. The other three followed close behind.

"Now," she said with a grin that lit up her dark eyes. "Let me have a look at you."

She looked them up and down, laughing as she did so. "Ooh, you boys grew up handsome!" She pointed at Dean. "And you were one funny looking kid, too."

Sam felt a big goofy grin spread across his face at Dean's affronted expression.

Missouri peered over the boys' shoulders at the two women behind them. "And who'd you bring with you?"

Sam stepped aside so she could reach Jayne and Lynn. She went right up to Jayne and took her hand. "Jayne Gibson," she said, smiling. "You met the boys in Colorado?"

Jayne blinked. Missouri paid her surprise no mind and, still holding Jayne's hand, looked over at Lynn. "And you must be Lynn. Her stepsister."

Lynn smiled at Missouri, but the smile seemed nervous to Sam.

"Oh, honey," she murmured suddenly, turning back to Jayne. Her brow contorted into a sympathetic frown. "Your little brother's missing?"

"Um…" Jayne's eyes got big.

"Oh, and your mother… I'm so sorry, sweetie." She shook her head, her expression empathetic – an expression Sam usually saw on Lynn's face. Somehow, Missouri's empathy seemed more believable.

"How did you…?"

She turned to Sam now, ignoring Jayne's unfinished question, and took his hand instead. "Oh, Sam, honey," she cooed. "I'm sorry about your girlfriend."

It was Sam's turn to blink at Missouri like a shocked goldfish.

"And your father?" she asked, looking first at him, and then at Dean. "He's missing?"

"How did you know all that?" Sam asked.

Missouri's smile faded, but her expression was not unkind. "Well," she replied. "You were just thinking it, just now."

All four hunters shifted around at her comment, shocked to say the least. "Well, where he is?" Dean asked suddenly. Sam noticed right away how his brother's voice shook. "Is he all right?"

Missouri screwed up her face and said "I don't know."

Dean looked more gob-smacked than he had when Missouri had been reading their minds. "Don't know?" he repeated. "You're supposed to be a psychic, right?"

That was the wrong thing to say. "Boy, do you see me sawing some bony tramp in half?" she retorted defensively. "You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can't pull facts out of thin air."

Sam grinned wide at her rebuttal. He found Missouri's tirade at his brother's expense exceedingly amusing. "Please," Missouri said. "Sit."

They sat. "Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I'm gonna whack you with a spoon!" Missouri snapped at Dean.

Dean froze while Sam's grin got bigger. Sam was sure he heard Jayne snort from her chair near Dean's side of the couch. "I didn't do anything!" Dean replied.

"You were thinking about it."

Shaking his head with amusement, Sam tried to get down to business. "Ok, so… our dad. When did you first meet him?"

"He came for a reading," Missouri explained, giving Dean one last baleful look. "A few days after the fire. I just told him the truth about what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say, I drew back the curtains for him."

"What about the fire?" Dean asked. "Do you know about what really killed our mom?"

Missouri took a deep breath. "A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hoping I could sense the echoes – the fingerprints – of this thing."

"Could you?" Sam pounced.

Missouri nodded, taking another breath – only this one was sharper, louder. A barely audible "Yes," escaped her lips.

"What was it?" Sam asked.

"I don't know," Missouri replied, looking off into the distance. She shuddered at the memory. "But it was evil."

"Demon evil?"

Sam whipped his head around to look at Jayne. He had expected something like that to come out of Lynn's mouth, only more gently put. Instead, Jayne had asked the question. It struck him as odd; Jayne rarely spoke, especially not with strangers – not if she could get away with being silent.

Missouri looked over at her sharply. "What makes you say that?"

Jayne didn't reply – at least, not out loud. She looked steadily at Missouri, who watched her carefully before slowly nodding.

"I've never sensed a demon before," she told them. "But… if I had to wager a guess… I'd say that's a pretty good one."

Jayne nodded back, just as slowly.

"So," Missouri murmured, looking at each one of them. "Why is it you've come back here? Why are you asking me all these questions?"

Sam took a deep breath, glancing around at his companions. "I, um… I had this nightmare."

Missouri studied him. Sam made himself go on. "It was about our old house. And the woman who lives there now – well, in my dream, she was trapped inside her house, screaming."

She kept watching him, not saying a word. "Which sounds crazy," Sam sighed. "But… but the thing is… I've had nightmares that… my nightmares have come true before."

There was a pause that Sam spent most of wincing. He sounded like a crazy person. But Missouri surprised him. The calculating look on her face – a look that Sam swore he'd seen on Lynn's face before – suddenly softened, and she smiled gently at him.

"Sam," she nearly whispered. "I read people's minds. Very little sounds crazy to me."

Sam had to smile back.

"So," Missouri said in a take-charge tone. "You think something is back in that house."

"Definitely," he replied.

Missouri took a deep breath, and got out of her chair to pace. "I don't understand."

"Why?"

She looked right at him. "I haven't been back inside, but I've been keeping an eye on the place. It's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents… why is it acting up now?"

"I don't know," Sam replied. "But Dad going missing, Stephen Juarez disappearing, Jessica _dying_… and now with this house, all happening at once… it feels like something's starting."

Dean's lips pursed together tightly at that comment. "Well that's a comforting thought."

"Do you think we could take you back inside?" Lynn asked suddenly. "See if you can sense the energies in there now? See if it's the same energy as before or something new?"

Missouri nodded. "Yes," she murmured. "Of course. I'd be glad to help."

* * *

When Jenny opened the front door of the small blue house, Lynn saw immediately that she was upset.

She was clutching her son, Ritchie, just a little too tight, and she seemed breathless. Her brown eyes were wide and startled, like a frightened rabbit.

"Hi," she said, not smiling. "Um… what are you guys doing here?"

"Hi Jenny," Sam said softly, giving her a smile despite the fact that she had not and would not return the favor. The look on his face suggested he saw the same things Lynn did. "This is our friend, Missouri."

Missouri stepped into the young mother's view, smiling at her. Jenny nodded, smiling back, but it was easy to see she wasn't entirely comfortable.

"If it's not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the house," Dean spoke up. "You know, for old time's sake."

"You know, this really isn't a good time," Jenny said, moving to shut the door. "I'm kind of busy."

"Jenny, wait, this is important," Dean exclaimed, stepping forward. The move earned him a painful smack upside the head.

"Give the poor girl a break; can't you see she's upset?" Missouri snapped at him. She turned to Jenny, who still looked frightened but now seemed annoyed as well, and said gently, "Forgive the boy. He means well, he's just not the sharpest tool in the shed… but hear me out."

Lynn watched Jenny carefully as the other woman asked. "About what?"

"About this house," Missouri replied.

Jenny frowned. Lynn swore the woman was shaking. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I think you know what I'm talking about," Missouri said, watching Jenny as carefully as Lynn was. "You think there's something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?"

Jenny looked still more upset, but Lynn could see something else there. She was unsettled… but a lot of that had to do with what Missouri was saying. "Who are you?"

"We're people that can help," Missouri told her. "People who can stop this thing. But you're going to have to trust us, just a little."

And it worked. Somehow, Missouri's speech won the frightened young mother over. Jenny let them inside.

As Jayne, Sam, Dean, and Missouri made their way upstairs, Lynn continued to watch Jenny. "Can I talk to you?" she asked.

Jenny seemed startled by the question, but shrugged. "I… I guess so…"

"Lynn?" Jayne asked from the staircase.

"You go on up," Lynn told her. "I'm going to stay down here with Jenny for a moment."

Jayne gave her an odd look, but followed the other three upstairs. Jenny headed for the kitchen, still clutching her son, and Lynn went right after her.

They sat at the kitchen table. Jenny kept holding onto her son. "Did something happen?" Lynn asked gently. "Right before we showed up?"

Jenny didn't want to say anything, Lynn could tell. She'd seen that hesitant look in Jayne's eyes way too many times to count. But fortunately, Jenny wasn't Jayne. Looking at the tabletop, Jenny said quietly, "My son. He… I found him…"

Lynn raised her eyebrow, watching her carefully. "You found him where?" she encouraged Jenny, who was reluctant to go on.

"He was in the… the refrigerator…" Jenny swallowed. "The child-lock was on. He was locked in… how is that possible?"

Taking a deep breath, Lynn asked her, "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"What?" Jenny exclaimed. "Of course not! That's… that's… crazy!"

"Crazier than what you just told me?"

Jenny hugged her son a little tighter.

Lynn leaned across the kitchen table and rested her hand on Jenny's arm. "We think there's something in your house. A spirit of some sort."

Jenny stared at her, her eyes wide. "But trust me when I say you and your kids are going to be fine," Lynn was quick to add. "My stepsister and I… Jayne, you remember… this is kind of what we do. The Winchesters too."

"And Missouri?"

"Um… sort of."

Jenny looked back at the table. "This can't be happening."

"Look, I know you're scared," Lynn said. "And I don't blame you. But we can get rid of this thing. We can make this house safe again."

Jenny nodded numbly.

"Missouri's checking the energy in your house," Lynn explained. "When she's done, we should know what sort of spirit we're dealing with here. And then… well, then we'll know how to stop it."

Again, Jenny nodded.

"And we _will_ stop it."

Jenny looked at her.

"You just have to let us," Lynn said quietly.

Jenny stared at her a moment longer. Then she nodded a third time, and whispered, "Ok."

* * *

"If there's a dark energy in this house, this room should be the center of it."

Jayne raised an eyebrow at the chunky medium, watching her maneuver her way around the blue and white little girl's room. "Why?" Sam asked her.

"This used to be your nursery, Sam," Missouri replied, looking over her shoulder at the youngest Winchester boy. "This is where it all happened."

Sam swallowed noticeably. Dean, standing on Jayne's right side, whipped out his EMF detector. Missouri looked down at the device in the elder Winchester's hands. "That an EMF?" she asked.

"Yeah," Dean replied.

She snorted. "Amateur."

Dean glared at Missouri, and Jayne tried to hide a smirk at his expense. It was funny, the way Missouri picked on him. Maybe it wasn't entirely fair, but Dean could be unbelievably pigheaded… not to mention needlessly snarky. It was nice to see him get picked on for a change.

"You know," Dean muttered under his breath, leaning closer to her. "I'm starting to think she doesn't like me very much."

Jayne snorted. "Yeah. I wonder why that would be."

He glared at her too, and then returned to his EMF detector. Jayne crossed her arms and trained her eyes on the carpet. She started chewing her lip, trying to think of something to say to him. Now, of course, wasn't the best time to be trying to connect, but Jayne couldn't stop thinking about what she'd seen at the gas station. When they'd been talking about the case, Dean had looked so… so… heartbroken. That was the word for it: heartbroken. And for some stupid reason, that bothered her.

Suddenly, Dean nudged her. She looked over at him and saw that the red lights on the EMF had lit up like police sirens.

"I don't know if the three of you should be disappointed or relieved," Missouri suddenly spoke from the other side of the room. Jayne looked up and found a thoughtful frown on the psychic's face. "But this isn't the thing that took your mothers."

"Are you sure?" Sam practically demanded.

Missouri nodded.

"How can you tell?" Sam pressed.

"It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here," Missouri replied, making her way towards the walk-in closet. "It's something different."

"What is it?" Dean asked as she swung open the closet doors.

"Not it," Missouri shook her head, stepping inside the closet. "Them. There's more than one spirit in this place."

"But how did they get here?" Jayne asked. "Why are they…?"

"They're here because of what happened to Mary Winchester," Missouri replied.

"Mom?" Dean said. "They're here because of Mom?"

She nodded, coming back into the bedroom. "You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked these halls. Evil like that… it leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected."

"I don't understand," Sam said.

"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy," Missouri explained. "It's attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one."

She looked straight at the three hunters on the other side of the room. "And it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead."

A long silence fell over the room. Then Sam spoke, sounding rather desperate. "You said there was more than one spirit."

"There is," Missouri said, heading for the closet again. "I just can't quite make out the second one."

"Well one thing's for damn sure," Dean said suddenly, tucking the EMF back inside his jacket. Jayne looked up at him, surprised by his serious, almost deadly tone. "No one's dying in this house. Ever again."

Sam stared at his brother, and then nodded grimly. Missouri simply looked at Dean with that unsettling and calculating expression of hers. Jayne was rather thrown by how grim he looked, but she tried to ignore what she saw in his face. Instead, she took a deep breath and looked at Missouri. "So, um… any ideas on how to stop these things?" she asked the psychic.

Missouri tore her eyes from Dean and trained them on Jayne. She nodded. "Yes. We need to get back to my house."

The other three nodded in agreement and followed the medium out of the room. As Sam and Missouri headed downstairs, Jayne looked up at Dean. He was upset. She could see it, even though he was acting as though he were fine.

"You know," she murmured. "It's times like these when I'm glad my old house is a grocery store."

Dean chuckled, but she could tell his heart wasn't in it.

They followed Sam and Missouri to the lower level. "We'll stop them," she said. "That's what we do."

"Yep," Dean replied. He still didn't sound enthused.

They hit the bottom of the steps. Jenny and Lynn stood at the bottom.

"We're going to be back again tonight," Missouri was explaining to Jenny. "We just need to get a few things."

"You're leaving?" Jenny asked, sounding nervous.

"I'll stay," Lynn volunteered immediately.

Jenny looked grateful. Jayne raised an eyebrow at her stepsister, and Sam flat out asked, not bothering to hide his astonishment, "You will?"

"Sure," Lynn replied, smiling at Jenny. "I don't mind. And you know, it'd probably be safer this way. I can help her keep an eye on her kids and stuff."

Sam kept staring at her. Jayne was a little surprised too, but shrugged it off. Lynn had a point, after all, and if she wanted to watch out for Jenny, Jayne was all for it. She didn't want anything to happen to the little family either.

"That sounds like a good idea," Missouri announced, giving Jenny a warm smile. "All right then, we'll be back. Dean, Sam, Jayne, come on now."

Missouri led the way out the front door and back to the Impala. Jayne tossed Lynn her keys as she followed behind Sam and called over her shoulder, "Be careful."

"Always," Lynn called back.

Jayne walked out to Dean's car and clambered in the backseat beside Sam. Missouri sat up front, and Dean slid in behind the wheel. He started the ignition and shifted out of park, starting off down the street. Jayne glanced back at Janis, still parked by the curb, and then faced forward, settling back in the seat.

At this point, all she wanted to do was kill that nasty son of a bitch inside the old Winchester home and get the hell out of Dodge.

* * *

Jenny stood at the kitchen table, packing a diaper bag in preparation for the long night ahead of her. She loaded the periwinkle bag with diapers, juice, and snacks. Lynn watched her from her spot between the kitchen and Ritchie's play area, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I don't know about this," Jenny was babbling nervously as she packed the bag. "Leaving you and your friends all alone in here… I mean, I'm not sure if it's such a good idea."

"We're not going to steal your shit," Lynn replied flat out. Then she winced and glanced around for signs of children. "Sorry," she said, even though neither Ritchie or Sari appeared to be nearby.

"It's ok," Jenny murmured distractedly. "I don't mean to accuse you of anything… I mean, you've been really nice, and Sari really seemed to warm up to you this afternoon, but… well…"

"I know," Lynn said understandingly. "It's hard to trust strangers. I understand that way better than you think."

Jenny managed a quick smile at her as she loaded the last of her crap into the diaper bag.

"But we know what we're doing," Lynn went on. "And we're going to help you. It's really going to be ok."

Jenny sighed. "I must be crazy," she said. "But you've won me over."

There was a knock on the door. "That'll be Missouri with Jayne and the boys," Lynn announced. "I'll get it. You get your kids."

Jenny nodded and headed for the stairs. Lynn walked to the front door and opened it wide. "Hey."

"How'd everything go?" Sam demanded. "Any problems?"

"Nope," Lynn shook her head, stepping back so the other four could walk in. "It's been quiet."

"Well that's good news, I suppose," Missouri murmured.

"Where's Jenny?" Dean demanded.

"Getting the kids," Lynn replied shortly.

As if on cue, Jenny suddenly came downstairs, diaper bag slung over her shoulder, Ritchie in her arms, and Sari on her heels.

"Hey there, sweetie," Missouri greeted her. "You ready?"

Jenny nodded nervously. "Yeah."

Missouri ushered the small family out of the house. The four hunters made their way into the kitchen. "So what's the plan?" Lynn asked.

"We stick this crap in the walls," Dean replied, reaching into his duffel and pulling out a handmade navy pouch, letting it dangle from his fingertips.

"What is that?" Lynn asked, frowning.

"A whole bunch of hoodoo shit," Jayne replied, elbowing Dean out of the way and unloading the satchels from his duffel.

Lynn shrugged. "Ok."

Missouri appeared in the kitchen. "All right," she announced. "We each take a floor and put these in the North, South, West, and East corners of the house."

Her expression grew serious and she practically glared at them all. "We work fast," she warned them. "Once the spirits figure out what we're up to, things are going to get bad."

* * *

Sam walked down the upstairs hall, a hammer hanging loosely from his hand. He had one more bag to hide in the walls of the second floor. Missouri and Lynn had taken the basement – which, he suspected, Lynn had done simply because she was worried about Missouri working on her own. Sam thought the medium knew what she was doing, but Lynn had insisted.

Dean had taken the first floor, and Jayne was in the attic. So far, there had been no trouble, and Sam hoped it would stay that way.

He stepped into the master bedroom and picked a spot on the far wall for his house-cleansing pouch. Kneeling on the hardwood floor, Sam began pounding a hole in the drywall with his hammer.

He was so intent on his work that he lost sense of his surroundings. Just as he had finished pounding through the wall and was laying the hammer aside, he heard a loud crash behind him.

There was no time to react. Sam had barely started to turn around when suddenly a tight, plastic cord wrapped itself around his neck. Gasping for breath, Sam struggled trying to pull the cord loose from his throat.

It was impossible. Instead, Sam snatched up his hoodoo pouch and reached for the hole in the wall, trying desperately to get the pouch into the wall. But he was too far away. No matter how hard he stretched, he couldn't reach. The pouch slipped from his hand, and Sam pulled on the cord again.

Still, he couldn't loosen the strangling grip. The world started to get dim, and Sam collapsed backwards on the floor.

* * *

Dean made his way into the kitchen, his last hoodoo pouch in hand. He moved a few white canisters on the dark countertop away from the wall, shoving the blender into the corner. Then he raised the small axe he'd been carrying around and leveled it with the wall, swinging back once, and finally chunking the blade into the plaster.

He pushed the pouch into the small hole. Suddenly, from behind him, he heard a small squeak, like a rusty hinge. Dean glanced over his shoulder just in time to see something shiny fly towards his head.

He ducked. The steak knife stuck in the cabinet over his head. Dean looked back in the direction the knife had come from, saw the silverware drawer open, and hit the tiled floor. With one swift movement, he had the kitchen table on its side. Ten knives buried themselves in the tabletop, their points stopping two centimeters from his face.

Dean froze, waiting for another attack. Nothing came. Breathless, he got cautiously to his feet, glancing around. Certain it was safe to make a break for it, Dean raced out of the kitchen towards the stairs.

He had to check on Sam.

* * *

Lynn wrinkled her nose, picking her way through the dark, dusty, and cluttered basement. On the opposite end of the musty concrete space, Missouri toddled alongside the basement wall with her flashlight, looking for a spot to place her hoodoo pouch.

Glancing over her shoulder for a moment to double check on the medium, Lynn bent down in a corner, shining her flashlight on the wall. Finding a small hole in the concrete blocks, she forced one of her pouches inside.

"You didn't have to come down here with me," Missouri's sweet, airy voice sounded from the other side of the basement. "I could have managed on my own."

"I know," Lynn replied, not looking up from her work. "But there were five of us, and only four floors, so…"

She got up off her knees and moved to another corner of the basement, shining her flashlight along the base of the wall.

"Mm-hmm," Missouri murmured, bending over to shove a pouch in the foundation.

They were quiet a moment. Lynn bent down in another corner of the basement, finding another spot to hide her last satchel, and shoved it in the wall.

"You think I can't handle myself alone because I'm not a hunter," Missouri observed suddenly.

Lynn froze. Then she spun around and stood up, facing the medium. "I didn't say that."

"No," Missouri agreed, heading for another part of the basement to hide her last pouch. "But you were thinking it."

Lynn stood silently for a moment, chewing the inside of her mouth in an aggravated manner. Missouri bent over, bracing herself against the wall, and deposited her last pouch.

"Look," Lynn said abruptly. "I'm not going to feel bad about wanting to look out for you. It's true; you know a lot about this stuff, but you're not a hunter. Not out in the field. And I…"

"No one's calling you out, sweetie," Missouri interrupted her, getting back on her feet and ambling towards the stairs. "There's no reason to get defensive."

Lynn blinked as Missouri moved towards the stairs. There was no reason to get defensive? Then why did she feel so… so defensive? Missouri's comment had seemed anything but innocent.

Suddenly, there was a laud scraping sound. Lynn felt the air around her begin to blow, as though a light breeze was whipping through the basement. Then, out of nowhere, a large wooden desk flew across the basement and smashed into Missouri's legs, pinning her to the wall.

* * *

The attic was dark, cramped, and creepy. The ceiling was so low that Jayne had to bend over almost in half to move around the small area.

She stuffed the pouches into the designated corners of the house, looking over her shoulder at every strange little noise. Every time something creaked or groaned, Jayne expected something heavy to fly at her head.

So far, so good. Nothing had tried to kill her… yet. Jayne worked quickly, moving from one corner to the next, quickly dispatching of her first three pouches. When she was down to her last, she heard a creak behind her.

Jayne glanced over her shoulder, frowning. She saw nothing. With an extra burst of speed, Jayne squished her last pouch into a space between the boards of an unfinished wall.

A loud whooshing sound came from behind her. Whirling, she saw several of the heavy boxes in the small space come flying across the room towards her.

She ducked, rolled, and hit the wall, narrowly missing being squished by the crap in Jenny's storage area. Looking around her frantically, Jayne cautiously got back up on her knees, shining her flashlight into all the corners of the attic.

Just as she had reassured herself that the poltergeist was done causing mischief for the moment, the flashlight flickered and died.

For a moment, Jayne knelt silent and frozen in the pitch black attic, listening. Then, very carefully, she made her way over to the trapdoor in the bottom of the attic and tried to pry it open.

It stuck fast. Jayne pulled harder and harder, starting to feel the first few rumblings of panic in her gut. The trapdoor continued to resist her attempts to open it.

Then she heard the scraping on the attic floor. And she knew those crates were launching themselves at her once again.

* * *

Dean raced down the upstairs hall, his heavy boots pounding on the red and white runner along the hardwood floor. He checked into every bedroom he passed, his desperation and concern growing every time he failed to see his brother.

Finally, he came to the master bedroom. The sight inside inspired both relief and terror. He'd found Sam – but Sam was on the floor, one hand at his throat, struggling to catch his breath.

"Sammy!" Dean called, rushing inside and falling on his knees next to his brother. Sam gasped in response.

Dean took in the broken lamp on the floor, and its cord wrapped tightly around his younger brother's neck. Instantly, he sprang into action, his fingers scrambling for the cord, trying desperately to get a hold on it and pry it from his brother's neck. For several seconds, Dean tried to release his brother from the cord, only to fail miserably. Finally, in an act of desperation, Dean leapt to his feet and raced for the wall, smashing his boot into the drywall.

He kicked it three times, finally breaking through the wall and creating a large hole. Then Dean snatched up the abandoned pouch off the carpeted floor and shoved it inside the wall.

There was a blinding flash of light that reflected itself throughout the entire house. Dean fell to the ground, covering his eyes. After a moment of stillness and silence, Dean cautiously raised his head.

It was over.

Dean crawled to his brother's side. "Sammy? Sammy!"

He lifted his brother from the floor, tilting his limp body against his chest. Then he unwound the cord from Sam's neck, unblocking his windpipe. Finally, Sam gasped, and began to breathe again.

Dean hugged his brother tightly to him, not caring if the move could be classified as a chick flick moment. Sam was breathing heavily and Dean sighed in relief. They had come _this_ close to…

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about it.

* * *

In the basement, Lynn pulled frantically on the large desk pinning the medium to the wall. She could hear Missouri straining under the weight of the furniture as she struggled to push it away from her. Lynn's flashlight fell to the floor, rolled around a little, and then died.

She continued trying to drag the desk away from Missouri but to no avail. "Damn it," she cussed, switching positions. Bracing herself against the wall beside the psychic, Lynn began trying to push the desk away from Missouri instead of pulling it.

Even with both of them working together, the desk would not budge. Lynn was about to run upstairs and figure out who hadn't stuck their pouch in the wall when suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light.

The desk stopped resisting. There was a loud scraping squeak as it was forced two feet away from Missouri, freeing her. Lynn went with the desk, unprepared for the sudden lack of resistance, and fell face first on the floor.

There was a long silence. Lynn's flashlight flickered back to life.

"You all right, sweetie?" Missouri asked.

Lynn nodded, bracing herself against the desk and hauling herself back to her feet. "Yeah," she said breathlessly. "Perfect. Are _you_ ok?"

Missouri nodded. "Yes. Yes, I think so."

They climbed the stairs together. Missouri was limping slightly, so Lynn took her arm and assisted her up the steps. Finally, after a slow walk, they reached the kitchen. Lynn helped Missouri into a chair.

"Think it's over?" Lynn asked.

Missouri looked around, frowning. She nodded slowly. "Yes. I think so."

Lynn nodded too. Then she surveyed the kitchen. It was trashed. The fridge was wide open, eggs and milk and juice spilling all over the floor. Broken glass and china littered the ground, and the table was turned on its side, knives pierced into the top.

"Oh, Jenny's not going to be happy," Lynn announced.

Missouri surveyed the room as well. "She'll live."

Lynn allowed herself a smirk. "I better go check on everyone else."

Missouri nodded. Lynn took off, heading upstairs.

She found Sam and Dean in the master bedroom, Dean kneeling on the ground beside Sam, who was half sitting, half lying on the carpet. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips, alerting both brothers to her presence.

"Oh my god," she breathed as they looked up at her. She stepped into the bedroom. "Sam, are you all right?"

Sam nodded. "Uh-huh."

He sounded rather breathless. Lynn looked around the room, taking in two holes in the drywall and a broken lamp on the floor. "Wow," she murmured.

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "We've got some explaining to do."

"I'll say," Lynn murmured.

"Where's Missouri?" Sam asked.

"Downstairs. She's fine." Lynn frowned, glancing around the room. "Anyone seen Jayne?"

Dean frowned too, slowly shaking his head. "No…"

Their eyes met. Lynn saw the same thought that was running through her head cross Dean's mind as well. Dean bounded to his feet, and the two of them raced into the hall, making a break for the trapdoor that led to the attic.

Suddenly, the door opened, and the ladder slid down, hitting the hall floor. Jayne clambered down the steps, and leapt down into the hallway.

Lynn stared at her stepsister, who appeared unconcerned about whatever had happened up in that attic. Jayne brushed herself off and turned to face the two people in the hallway that were staring at her.

"What?"

* * *


	27. Something to Shoot

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to Nelle07, angeleyenc, Lov3good, Padme4000, legrowl, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, martine, and Joan J. for the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 27: Something to Shoot

The dark house was quiet and still, save the trampling of feet on the staircase as Dean, Sam, Lynn and Jayne headed back to the kitchen. Missouri sat at the kitchen table, waiting for them.

Jayne surveyed the room with raised eyebrows. The kitchen table was turned over on its side, several knives sheathed in the hard wood top. The fridge stood wide open, milk and juice spilling onto the floor as well as several broken eggs, their bright orange yolks oozing onto the hard wood tile.

She let loose a low whistle. "Geez," she announced. "That thing really tried to kill you."

Dean looked at her, his eyebrows knitting together. "Shut up."

Jayne watched as Lynn went to Missouri's side. The medium smiled gratefully at her stepsister, but waved her away. Apparently, Missouri was fine.

Sam was frowning, taking a slow walk across the kitchen. He stopped at the other door, his arm resting on the counter, and looked around him almost cautiously. "You sure this is over?" he asked, glancing at Missouri.

Missouri was getting to her feet, using the overturned table for support, while at the same time waving aside Lynn's attempts to help. "I'm sure," she replied to Sam's question, frowning as well. "Why do you ask?"

Sam sighed. "Never mind," he murmured, turning from the counter. His frown deepened. "It's nothing, I guess."

Jayne frowned too, watching Sam carefully as he shuffled about uncomfortably. Before anyone could question him further, the front door slammed.

Mere seconds later, Jenny and her two kids appeared in the kitchen. Jayne's eyes traveled swiftly and rather guiltily to the door. Jenny's mouth was hanging open and her eyes were wide.

"What happened?" she exclaimed.

"Hi," Sam said just a little too fast. "Um… sorry. We'll… we'll pay for all of this."

Dean's expression suggested he believed otherwise.

"Don't you worry about a thing, honey," Missouri spoke up. "Dean's going to clean up this mess."

Jayne snorted involuntarily. The indignant look on Dean's face was too much to ignore.

"Well, what you waiting for, boy?" Missouri snapped when Dean didn't move. "Get the mop!"

Dean glared at her.

"And don't cuss at me!" Missouri scolded him, her tone more like a mother than anything else.

Dean started, and then glared deeper, before storming out of the kitchen, presumably after the aforementioned mop.

"Go on, honey. Put your kids to bed. We'll take care of everything," Missouri said to Jenny, smiling sweetly.

Still looking confused, Jenny nodded slowly, and led her kids out of the room.

Missouri began righting the furniture. Sam moved to help her with the table, while Lynn went to the fridge and started picking up overturned bottles and broken eggshells.

Jayne watched them clean for a moment, and then went to help Dean. She suspected he'd never even seen a mop before in his life.

* * *

Dean wrung out the saturated mop into the bucket of dirty gray water. The kitchen floor was finally clean of food and trash. It had taken forever to clean the mess that was Jenny's house, and the clock on the microwave was now ticking towards midnight.

He could hear Missouri's airy voice and Sam's deep one out in the hallway, talking with Jenny. Lynn had disappeared upstairs with the broom and dustpan to collect the broken pieces of several unfortunate lamps and vases.

Jayne was cussing under her breath a few feet away, struggling to pull Jenny's kitchen knives out of her table. So far, she'd been unsuccessful.

Dean let the mop lean against the kitchen counter and crossed over to the table, gently elbowing her out of the way. "Here, let me do it."

Jayne folded her arms over her chest and fixed him with a glare. Dean tried to ignore the look and grabbed hold of one of the knives, yanking on it as hard as he could.

After several fruitless minutes of pulling on the knife in question, he heard Jayne snort.

"Gee, it's a good thing you came along, Dean," she said dryly. "I don't know what I would have done without a big strong man like you."

He glared at her over his shoulder. She raised her eyebrow at him. "Wow," he retorted. "Your sarcasm is _really_ helpful. Thank you."

Jayne sighed, rolling her eyes. "Here. Hold down the table."

Dean did as commanded, giving her the skunk eye as he did so. Jayne grabbed hold of the knife and pulled.

Within minutes, the knife was free. They did the same for the other five knives in the table and then Jayne gathered up the cutlery and carried it to the sink.

She filled the basin with sudsy water. Dean watched her for a moment, and then crossed over to the sink, grabbing a green and white dishtowel from where it hung on the wall.

"You disappointed?" he asked her, drying off the knife she'd just finished washing.

She shrugged. "Why would I be?"

"Because we ended up hunting a poltergeist," Dean returned smoothly. "Instead of whatever it was that…"

He trailed off, drying a second knife. Jayne shrugged again.

"Maybe it was a good thing this turned out to be something else," she murmured. "Let's face it; we're not exactly prepared to take on whatever took our mothers. And…"

She hesitated, suddenly fascinated by the knife in her hands. "And… well, it wasn't exactly right, doing it like this. You know?"

"What do you mean, like this?"

Jayne sighed heavily. "I don't know… I… well, for one thing, my brother should have been here."

There was a long silence. "Yeah," Dean said finally, not looking at her. "Yeah, I know."

He paused a moment before going on. "I called my Dad, you know?"

"I figured."

Dean shot her a sideways look.

She shrugged. "I called my brother."

They were quiet again. "He should have been here," Dean said, shaking his head. "I don't understand why…"

He trailed off and sighed, rubbing the last knife furiously with the dishtowel. "This was important, you know? It could have been the thing that took my mom, and he wasn't here for it."

Jayne nodded slowly, letting the water out of the sink. "Yeah. I know what you mean."

They didn't speak for a long time. They simply stood at the sink and stared out the window into the pitch black backyard. Then Jayne sighed and said, "We better go."

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

She led the way out of the kitchen. Dean tossed the dishtowel on the counter and followed, running a hand nervously over his hair.

He wondered, for the millionth time in the past few days, exactly where the hell his Dad was.

* * *

Sam looked up from the conversation he'd been having with Missouri and Jenny in the entrance hall to see Lynn coming down the stairs, carefully holding the dustpan in her hands. In all truth, the conversation he'd been having with Missouri and Jenny hadn't really been his conversation at all – in fact, it had been more of a conversation between Missouri and Jenny that he'd been granted the privilege of witnessing. So, when he saw Lynn disappear into the kitchen with the broom and dustpan, he excused himself to the two women and followed her.

He wasn't sure why he wanted to talk to Lynn so desperately – he only knew that he hadn't talked to her enough throughout the case, and it was starting to worry him. The case had started out with Dean angry at him, and Jayne angry at her, and he had originally thought those circumstances would have driven them into the same corner. However, it soon became clear that they had little to say to one another. Lynn had been preoccupied with her stepsister, barely leaving her side throughout the hunt, and Sam had gotten a little too caught up in the case itself, obsessing over the house and its occupants – both ghostly and alive.

Sam stepped into the kitchen and found her at the other end, standing over the open silver trashcan and emptying the white ceramic pieces from the dustpan into the trash. Jayne and Dean, who had been in the kitchen only moments before, were now nowhere in sight.

Lynn looked over her shoulder at him as he stepped farther into the room and gave him a soft smile. "Hey."

He smiled back. "Hey," he repeated.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. Then Lynn put down the lid on the trashcan and tucked the broom and dustpan back into the closet. Sam watched her, his hands in his pockets.

"Are you all right?"

Sam, who had been studying the kitchen floor, looked up at Lynn's sudden question, surprised. "Um, yeah," he replied, unnerved. "Fine."

She nodded slowly. "Oh."

There was a silence. Lynn spoke again. "You just look like you have something to say. That's all."

"I'm good."

"Ok."

They fell silent yet again. "So, you nearly didn't make it there," Lynn said.

Sam blinked. "Oh, um… I would have been fine. Really."

She didn't seem to believe him. "Right."

Sam searched his brain for something else to say, but he didn't get a chance to speak up. Lynn did it first. "Anyway," she continued. "I'm glad you're all right."

He smiled and nodded. "Thanks."

They fell back into an awkward silence. Sam shuffled around a bit, hands still squeezed in the pockets of his jacket, and looked up at the ceiling.

For some reason, he couldn't just trust Missouri and let this hunt be over. There was still this strange feeling in the house – this strange feeling of wrongness. Sam shuddered slightly, almost unnoticeably, and glanced around the kitchen some more.

"Sam, seriously," Lynn spoke up. "You are freaking out right now. What's up?"

"I'm not freaking out. I'm fine."

"Sam, if something's bothering you, I really wish you would just come out and say it."

He stared at her for a moment, and then finally relented. Sighing heavily, Sam shrugged and said, "I don't know, I just… I still have a bad feeling about all this, you know?"

She frowned at him, tilting her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"I just… this just doesn't feel… it doesn't feel over."

Lynn's face suddenly lit up with understanding. Her eyes went wide. "You think there's still something in this house?"

"Well… no. Not exactly, I just… well, ok. Maybe."

Lynn raised her eyebrow. "It's a yes or no question, Sam. Maybe's not an option. Either you think the house still has a freaky aura, or you don't."

Sam sighed again. "It just feels… off, you know?"

Lynn nodded slowly, but Sam couldn't help not believing her. Of course she didn't know – how could she? "Well, all right," she said, shrugging. There was a no-nonsense tone to her voice. "Then we'll stay."

He blinked. "We'll stay?"

She looked at him like he was crazy. "Well, duh. If there's something bad still lurking around here, then we can't leave some innocent woman and two little children alone in this house to fend for themselves – we simply can't. At least, I won't. Look, we can camp out in our cars, by the curb. Keep an eye on the place. If everything's quiet tonight, we'll let it go. Leave tomorrow morning. Sound good?"

Sam studied her. He couldn't help the frown forming on his face. "Really?" he asked. "You'd really be all right with that?"

Lynn shrugged again. "Well, I don't exactly relish sleeping in Jayne's musty old truck, but I've definitely slept in worse places, believe you me. If the house is still acting weird, then we have to stay. End of story."

Sam chuckled slightly, more out of surprise than any real amusement. He couldn't help but be thrown by her willingness to stick it out and watch the place. He knew for certain that Dean wasn't going to be anywhere near as willing to stay outside in the car tonight. "I can't believe you're going along with this."

"I promised that woman in there we would keep her and her kids safe," Lynn replied without missing a beat. "I really hate breaking my promises. Not saying I've never broken one before, not saying I'll never break one again, I just… I really hate doing it, so… so I'd like to avoid breaking this promise, if I can. I'll stay here with you."

Sam stared at her for another minute, and then smiled at her. "All right. Good. I'll tell Dean."

"I'll tell Jayne."

He watched her leave the kitchen, pleasantly surprised. Suddenly, he felt a lot better about everything – about the house, his dream, making Dean stay outside the house tonight… everything seemed to be looking up. Everything seemed to be on its way to being settled. There was a plan in the works, and it was almost comforting.

That's when Sam realized exactly what it was about Lynn's presence that he found so calming, why he missed her on hunts, why he felt more at ease talking to her than to Dean… she had the ability to take charge, discuss the problem, plot a solution. She could take control of a situation without yelling, without having to throw her weight around. She planned. She talked. She didn't scream orders.

It was a nice change from what he was used to, and Sam began to think he could really get used to the way Lynn did things.

It was a thought that scared him the moment it crossed his mind.

* * *

Jayne sighed harshly, squirming about restlessly in the driver's seat of the dark, quiet pickup. Lynn rolled her eyes at her stepsister's petulance.

"Would you hold still?" she snapped from the passenger's seat.

"I'm trying to get comfortable," Jayne snapped back. "Can I ask why the hell I'm sleeping in Janis right now? We went in, we got the bad guy, we saved the girl… so exactly what the hell are we doing here?"

"Watching the house," Lynn retuned smoothly. "Making sure the spirits are really gone. Sam's just nervous that…"

Jayne snorted. "Sam's nervous, Sam's upset, Sam this and Sam that. I am so sick of hearing that name come out of your mouth."

Lynn chose to ignore that comment, and instead smacked her stepsister on the shoulder, motioning her to be quiet. "I think something's happening."

Her stepsister rolled her eyes, mumbling something under her breath in a high pitched voice. Lynn assumed she was mocking her.

But she didn't have the time to pay attention to her irritated stepsister. Something was indeed happening outside, by the Impala. The passenger side door of the old black car swung open and Sam leapt out, slamming it closed behind him. He shouted something unintelligible at Lynn and her stepsister, racing for the front door of the house. There was a second squeak and clang as Dean threw open the driver's side door as well and raced after his younger brother.

Lynn vaulted from the cab of the pickup and ran for the house. She heard Jayne slamming her truck door behind her, and then the sound of her stepsister's boots pounding on the pavement as she raced after them.

She crossed the threshold into the dark foyer just behind Dean, her mind whirling with confusion. She still had no clue as to what was going on. "Dean?" she called, trying to draw attention to herself so that someone would explain what the hell was happening.

"Sam saw something!" Dean hollered over his shoulder. "Help him get the kids! I'm going after Jenny!"

He disappeared upstairs. Lynn followed orders, pounding up the steps after him. "Help Dean!" she shouted at her stepsister. "He shouldn't go off by himself!"

Jayne glared at her, clearly not thrilled about taking other people's orders. Lynn sent her a pleading look and her stepsister responded by rolling her eyes and racing off in the direction that Dean had disappeared in.

Lynn ran directly to Sari's room, knowing that whatever was going on in the house must be starting in the young girl's closet. As she drew nearer to the room, she felt the temperature rising – which was highly unusual, given the circumstances. Before Lynn had time to contemplate this, however, she found herself just outside Sari's door.

She shoved her way inside the room. Just within the door, Lynn stopped short, staring. The room was suffocatingly hot. Stepping out of the open closet door and making its way towards Sari's bed was a figure – a figure with human form, but no discernable features. Just as Sari had described, the figure was on fire.

Ducking around the blazing heat from the entity at the foot of the bed, Lynn raced for the small girl, her arms opened wide. "Come on, sweetie," she said firmly, wrapping an arm around the little girl's waist and hefting her off the bed.

Sari was crying, her face soaked in frightened tears, and once Lynn had hold of her, Sari grabbed tightly onto the loose fabric of Lynn's billowy white shirt and held on, burying her face in Lynn's shoulder. Patting the small girl comfortingly on the back, Lynn ducked backwards out of the bedroom…

… and nearly ran right into Sam. Whirling around to face the youngest Winchester brother, Lynn found Sam staring at her with wide eyes, clutching Ritchie against his chest. He stared first at her, and then lifted his eyes towards the room. His eyes widened at the sight of the flaming figure framed by the doorway.

"We need to get out of here," Lynn informed him, gesturing frantically at him to move.

Sam nodded hastily, his hand pushing against the space between her shoulder blades as he urged her on up ahead of him. Lynn ran for the stairs, still carrying Sari, and began the descent to the exit below.

She made it halfway down the narrow staircase before she froze. Something snatched at her ankle and nearly tripped her. Lynn stumbled against the wall, catching herself on the banister, and turned wide, horrified eyes on Sam.

Sam had brushed past her, making it to the bottom of the steps, and as he looked back at her over his shoulder, she saw that his eyes were wide too. "Put Sari down!" he ordered.

Lynn nodded, following his instructions like she was a computer he'd programmed, and placed Sari gently on the step below her. Sam bent over and put Ritchie in his sister's arms.

"All right, Sari, take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back!" he barked at the young girl.

Then, suddenly, Sam was flat on his face and flying towards the kitchen.

Sari screamed and ran for the door, dragging her brother with her.

Lynn stood frozen, horrified, and then tried desperately to shake loose whatever had her by the leg. The spirit held fast.

Suddenly, she was rolling down the steps.

Gasping for breath and moaning in pain, Lynn hit the hall at the bottom of the stairs. Wincing with agony, she rolled herself onto her back. But before she could get up, that same invisible hand gripped her ankle, and suddenly she was flying back towards the kitchen, following the same path as Sam.

* * *

The closer Jayne got to the end of the upstairs hall, the louder the frantic pounding on Jenny's door echoed in her ears. Dean was already there, hollering at the panicked woman to stand back.

The pounding stopped, so Jenny must have complied. Jayne halted two feet from Jenny's bedroom just in time to see Dean step back and propel his foot into the door. With one swift kick, the door popped open and Jenny was free.

For a moment, Jayne stood there, blinking in stunned silence. Dean had kicked in a door. She was impressed. But the shock wore off mere moments later when Dean hauled Jenny out of her bedroom, shouting down her objections to leaving her kids, and dragged her down the hall.

Feeling useless, Jayne followed close behind, keeping an eye out for flying objects and deadly extension cords. There was pounding and scratching and a whole host of other noises, but nothing immediately dangerous.

The three of them raced out the front door and hit the curb. Jenny was practically dancing by the street, staring at her house in fearful anticipation. They had made it outside first. There was no sign of Lynn, Sam, or Jenny's kids.

Jayne stood mutely, staring unseeingly at the front door of the house, fighting the urge to run inside. She jumped when she felt Dean's hand on her wrist.

She turned to him, surprised. He didn't look at her or let go of her wrist, just nodded at the house. Frowning, Jayne followed his gaze.

Shining out the front door was an odd, ethereal white light.

Jayne fought with her legs, taking an awkward half step forward. Dean's grip on her wrist tightened. She had half a mind to yank her arm away, but found she couldn't. Dean wasn't clinging to her to stop her or to comfort her – Dean was clinging to her for reasons that had very little to do with Jayne. His reasons, she suspected, had much more to do with himself. She had become an anchor in a sea of weirdness that he no longer knew how to navigate – not when it was his house, and his family, and his little brother.

She let him cling. Not that she wasn't dealing with her own issues at the moment – that was her little sister in there with Sam, her little sister that had yet to come out. Sam was Dean's blood, and Lynn was only her sister by marriage, but that meant nothing to Jayne. She saw herself in the same boat as Dean. That was her family – really, the only family she had left. So why she was letting Dean cling to her, find comfort in the grip on her wrist… she couldn't really understand. It wasn't like she was handling this much better than he was.

At that moment, a terrified and sobbing Sari ran out the front door, dragging her sleepy-eyed and confused little brother behind her. The little girl ran right for her mother. Jenny caught Ritchie up in her arms and made a move towards Sari, but Dean intervened, finally releasing Jayne's wrist.

"Sari, where's Sam?" he demanded.

"He's still inside!" the little girl exclaimed. "Something's got him!"

Jayne's stomach sank. "And Lynn…?" she asked almost hesitantly, afraid she already knew Sari's answer.

The little girl nodded solemnly, blinking back fresh tears. Her mother opened her free arm and enveloped Sari in a hug.

The front door slammed.

Dean was already racing for the Impala, fishing his keys out of his jeans. Jayne ran to the bed of her pickup, leaping up onto the back tire and swinging her other leg over the side. Falling on her knees against the hard plastic bed liner, she yanked her duffel bag out from under Lynn's shit and unzipped it hastily. Quickly, she dug out a shot gun, some salt, and her favorite pistol, tucking the smaller gun into the back of her jeans.

Fully armed, she vaulted over the side of the bed, boots hitting the pavement, and then ran for the house. She was just behind Dean, who had guns of his own, as well as an axe.

She stopped short on the porch steps as Dean halted on the front porch, drawing back and kicking the door as he'd kicked Jenny's bedroom door mere minutes before. This time, the door would not yield.

Dean wasted no time. He glanced over his shoulder at her and grabbed her arm, yanking her up onto the porch. Then he pushed her to his left, ordering "Stay back!"

Jayne brooked no argument. There wasn't time to be offended. Dean hefted the axe over his shoulder and swung away.

* * *

Sam went flying across the cold kitchen floor, his entire body crashing into the tall pantry doors at the other end of the room. There was a loud clatter as several pots and pans fell to the floor around him. He narrowly escaped a blow to the head.

He heard a small, high pitched cry of pain from the front hall. Recognizing at once that it was Lynn, he struggled to his feet, grunting with pain, and tried to make his way towards her.

Suddenly, he was flat on his face once again. Sam coughed, wincing with pain, and tried valiantly to get back up. The poltergeist had other plans. He ended up in the living room, still face down on the floor.

He heard the sickening thud of a body colliding with a wall. It had come from the kitchen. Then, almost immediately following the collision, he heard the choking, spluttering sound of someone gasping for air.

"Lynn!" he thundered, scrambling up on two legs.

Suddenly, he was off his feet, flying backwards into the wall. Egged on by Lynn's choking in the next room, he tried to pry himself loose, but failed. The force pinning him to the wall pressed harder, making escape impossible.

Then there was heat and light – dim orange light. Sam looked straight ahead of him.

Coming around the corner was a figure. A figure on fire.

* * *

Dean didn't have to look at Jayne to know she was practically hopping up and down with fear and impatience.

He couldn't blame her. Fear, impatience… yeah, he had all of that.

To her credit, she said nothing. She didn't complain when he pushed her aside, she didn't order him to hurry up; she didn't do anything of the sort. She just stood there, watching, chewing on her lip and bouncing in one place. Dean tried to ignore her presence, and focused on swinging his ax back and forth, back and forth, slicing through the white wood door and yanking out the bottom panels in long, painted splinters.

When the hole at the bottom of the door was large enough for him to duck through, Dean stopped swinging his axe and pushed his way inside the house. He felt Jayne follow him in.

"Sam!" he roared into the house, snatching his shotgun out of the inside panel of his jacket. He stormed down the long narrow hallway and into the kitchen.

The kitchen was a mess. Pots, pans, and chairs were strewn every which way. Lynn Juarez was pinned up against the pantry door, gasping for air.

"Lynn!" Jayne cried from behind him. She brushed past him, racing to her stepsister's side. Dean watched for a moment and glanced around, at a loss. He couldn't decide how to help.

Suddenly, he froze. In the living room, his brother was pinned against the wall, watching wide eyed as the flaming figure from Sari's closet made its way towards him.

All thoughts of helping Lynn flew from his head. Dean ran into the living room, stopping short at his brother's side. The flaming figure didn't slow its approach.

Dean leveled the shotgun at the apparition, prepared to shoot.

"No, don't!" Sam protested frantically. "Don't!"

"What?" Dean practically bellowed, unable to understand this sudden interest in the spirit's welfare. The ghost was, after all, pinning Sam to a wall. "Why?"

"Because I know who it is," Sam said softly. He sounded young – like he was literally Dean's kid brother again. The pitch to his voice caused Dean to waver.

"I can see her now," Sam whispered.

Dean frowned at the flaming figure, trying desperately to see what his brother claimed he saw. As he watched, a breeze whipped through the living room, picking up the spirit's long flaming hair.

The flames drew back, revealing a face and a body, and then dying away. As the fire went out and the figure came into focus, Dean felt the rest of the world disappear. Jayne's cries in the next room and Lynn's coughs, and even his brother's presence beside him all faded away. His hand went limp, the shotgun faltering.

"Mom?"

* * *

Jayne felt all her control over her world vanish.

Her stepsister was pinned to the wall, gasping for breath. Lynn was choking, unable to breathe, unable to free herself from the suffocating grip the poltergeist had on her neck.

Jayne felt completely helpless. She had literally no idea what to do.

She tried prying her stepsister off the wall, but no amount of muscle or willpower could break the poltergeist's hold. She tried to pry the ghostly hand from her stepsister's throat, but that plan had been doomed to fail the moment she'd thought it up. There was no hand to pull on, no hand to force.

Lynn continued gasping wheezingly, trying to draw breath. Her dark eyes were wide and terrified, and Jayne wanted to cry. There was so little she could do to help her stepsister, to stop the poltergeist, to make it better.

Jayne looked uselessly around the room, clutching her salt-loaded shotgun, desperately trying to think up a solution. She arrived at none.

There was a flaming figure in the other room. The Winchester boys were in the other room. Lynn was still making choking noises. Someone was whispering, "What do I do, what do I do, what do I do…?"

Suddenly, Jayne realized the frantic whispering was coming from her.

"Damn it!" she exploded, kicking the cupboard under the sink. "I just need something to shoot! What the hell am I supposed to shoot?"

She kicked the cupboard a second time for good measure. Her gun hung limply from her hands. Her eyes were burning with countless tears, every last one of them threatening to overflow and spill down her cheeks.

Jayne tried again to yank Lynn off the kitchen wall. Her efforts proved fruitless. The tears began to fall as she began shouting nonsensical cuss words: "Damn it! Damn it, damn it, damn it! Come out, you bastard! Give me something I can shoot, damn you!"

Then she heard it. One word that sent a shiver down her spine. Dean's voice rumbled from the next room, surprising soft.

"Mom?"

With tears still rolling desperately down her cheeks, Jayne turned her head to the living room, still clinging to her stepsister's arms.

The flaming figure had melted into a motherly blonde woman in long, flowing white nightgown.

Mary Winchester. So that was what she looked like.

It was hard to let go of her panic and turn to see the Winchester's faces, but Jayne forced herself to do it. There were tears in both sets of Winchester eyes, and both men were staring at the blonde vision as though they'd seen an angel.

Jayne ripped her eyes away from the sight and refocused on her stepsister. So Mary Winchester was haunting this house. Her initial shiver at the realization was long gone now. So what if Dean's mother was the spook in question? Lynn was still gasping and choking. Her dark eyes were boring into Jayne's gray ones, and she was trying to smile. She was actually trying to smile.

More tears began to roll down Jayne's cheeks.

What good did knowing the ghost do her now?

* * *

Mary Winchester tilted her head to the side, taking in the sight of both her boys, full grown and handsome.

Dean stared back, feeling tears prick at his eyes. She was beautiful. His mother was beautiful. And yet, at the same time, she was still something he hunted.

"Dean," she said.

He stared at her some more, blinking back his tears. A small, sad smile formed on his face.

She walked right past him.

Eyes wide, Dean watched as his mother softly crossed the room, stopping directly before his brother.

"Sam," she murmured.

Sam smiled, the tears in his eyes spilling over.

She smiled back, and then suddenly frowned. "I'm sorry," she said.

Sam couldn't understand this apology. Dean didn't understand it either. A short, confused chuckle escaped Dean's teary-eyed brother. "For what?" he asked.

But Mom didn't answer. Her frown just deepened. Her head tilted more drastically. Then she turned away. There were several flickers, as though his mother was a mirage, and then she was halfway across the room, contemplating the ceiling.

"You," she spat. "Get out of my house, and let go of my son."

Then, for the second time in Dean's twenty-six years, he watched helplessly as his mother exploded into flames. The fire burst against the white ceiling, and then his mother was gone.

* * *

Lynn fell forward, off the wall, and landed hard on her knees, gasping for air.

Jayne tried to catch her, but only fell with her stepsister. Both of them hit the cool kitchen floor, landing in a tangled heap.

She grabbed Lynn by her forearms, forcing the other woman back so she could look at her face. "Lynn!" she practically shouted at her sister. "Lynn! Are you all right?"

Jayne wasn't entirely appeased by her stepsister's hurried nod, especially since the nod was necessary because Lynn was too breathless to speak. Still, her stepsister was alive and breathing and Jayne's earlier panic began to melt away.

Taking a deep breath and wiping frantically at her eyes, Jayne composed herself and then stared at her stepsister a moment. Lynn forced a smile.

Jayne hugged her.

* * *

After one hell of a long night, Lynn made her way towards Jenny's front door, intent on getting the hell out of the old Winchester house. Missouri could claim that the spirits were gone if she wanted to, Sam could say it was over as many times as his heart desired… but Lynn wanted the hell out. That house had tried to choke her to death the night before – and it had almost succeeded.

She could see Sam sitting on the front steps, watching the street with a distant look in his eye. Something in her demanded she go to him, talk to him, figure out exactly what his problem was this time.

Sam was not a push over. Sam was stubborn and he was determined and she had seen him get into it with his brother about every thirty seconds.

But knowing that did not make Lynn afraid to confront him. It did not make her hesitate in getting what she wanted out of him. And deep down, she knew that one day she was going to provoke a fight. A very serious fight.

They were two of the same. She had always known that. And she was torn between believing that their similarities were a good thing, and at the same time believing that one day they would drive one another mad.

Before she could reach the front door, however, a voice stopped her in the foyer. "You all right, honey?"

It was Missouri, lurking in the shadows. Lynn froze and turned to face the psychic. "Yeah," she murmured rather hesitantly. "I'm fine."

Missouri gave her a calculating expression. The stern-faced, sharp-eyed, pursed lips expression. The one that proved she could read everything in a body, down to the very soul.

"You sure about that, sweet pea?"

Her voice was honey and air and light. And still, her voice made Lynn cringe.

"Yeah," she said again. "I'm sure."

Missouri's expression did not change. The subject did.

"All right," the psychic said. "Honey, I've been meaning to ask you…"

Lynn winced.

"Who exactly was your mother?"

Lynn looked at the medium in surprise. "I'm sorry?"

Missouri continued to give her that penetrating look, her voice still sweet. "Your mother, sweetie. She wasn't Ana Gibson."

She couldn't help being thrown. Lynn knew that Missouri could read thoughts, but why the mind-reader had decided to play twenty questions about Lynn's birth mother was beyond her.

Still, there could be no harm in answering. Lynn shrugged, saying "Her name was Inez Rodriguez. I don't know much about her."

"Why's that?"

Lynn nearly took offense to the quickly asked question. "Well, she died when I was a baby."

Missouri didn't say anything at first. Flustered, Lynn rushed to fill the silence – although a small part of her felt that Missouri had been counting on her doing that very thing. "Actually, she died in childbirth. Giving birth to me. Yeah. So… I don't know. My dad never really talked about her."

"Well, that's a shame," Missouri said. "A girl ought to know something about her mother."

Lynn shrugged again. There really was no good answer to a comment like that.

"Maybe you ought to look into her," Missouri suggested almost casually – although Lynn seriously doubted that anything Missouri did or said was meant casually. "You might have more in common with her than you think."

Lynn frowned at the medium. "All right…"

Missouri stepped outside into the light.

Lynn stared after her, thoroughly confused.

* * *

Sam sat on the front porch, staring at the street. His older brother was down by the car, leafing through the old family photos Jenny had found in the basement. Sam sure hoped he was thanking the woman. Winchester family pictures were hard to come by, and personally Sam was grateful for every keepsake they stumbled across.

Jayne was down there too, but she wasn't joining Dean's trip down memory lane. She was leaning against the Impala, her arms folded impatiently over her chest. She wanted to leave – that was obvious. Sam knew Dean was impatient to go too – possibly more impatient than Jayne. He couldn't entirely blame them. He couldn't remember ever working a hunt before that had been this emotionally draining. Still, Sam wasn't ready to leave. He wouldn't be ready to leave until Missouri came out of that house and told him everything was really over – that his mom and that nasty poltergeist were gone, and for good.

Not that he wanted his mom to be gone for good. He just needed to know if she was.

"Well," Missouri's airy, slightly breathless voice sounded from behind him. Sam looked eagerly over his shoulder. "There's no spirits left in there this time, that's for sure."

She took a seat on the steps beside him. "Not even my mom?" Sam asked softly – almost hopefully.

Missouri looked at him, her brow crinkling with some semblance of reluctance. She shook her head in the negative. "No."

Sam nodded, having known all along that was going to be the answer. "What happened?" he asked.

"Your mom's spirit and the poltergeist's energy – they cancelled each other out," Missouri explained. "Your mom destroyed herself going after the thing."

That hurt. The words twisted in his gut the same way a sharp knife would: _your mother destroyed herself_…

Sam shook his head, trying to compose himself. "Why would she do something like that?"

Missouri looked at him like he was crazy. "Why, to protect her boys, of course."

Sam nodded again, looking straight at the pavement ahead of him. He swallowed hard, his brows drawing together. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Missouri's fist go up to her mouth, her eyes boring into his head with an unbearable sympathy. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder briefly, attempting to be comforting.

"Sam, I'm sorry," she announced.

He frowned at her. "For what?"

"You sensed it was here, didn't you? Even when I couldn't."

Sam felt his lower lip tremble. He took a steadying breath. There was no way to deny Missouri's statement. She was a mind-reader; she knew when she was being lied to. And to deny her statement would be a lie. Sam had sensed it. He hadn't understood what he was feeling, not until this moment. But he _had_ sensed it.

"What's happening to me?" he asked her.

Missouri shook her head. "I know I should have all the answers," she murmured. "But I just don't know."

Before Sam could reply, Dean called from the street, "Sam? You ready to go?"

So Sam settled for a smile in Missouri's direction. Then he got to his feet and headed for the road.

He didn't even make it to the Impala before Lynn caught up to him.

She had come out of the house just as Dean had called. Now she was following hot on his heels, and Sam was avoiding turning around and looking at her. She was going to ask questions – questions he didn't know how to answer.

"Sam."

When she said his name, Sam stopped and turned around. It was simply useless not to.

She studied him very carefully. "I'm sorry," she said.

He frowned. "Why?"

Lynn shrugged. "Isn't it obvious?"

Sam stared at her a moment. Then he gave her a small smile. "Yeah. I guess maybe it is."

She smiled back. Then she hugged him.

Sam had not been expecting that, but he hugged her back. The hug was awkward, but he couldn't deny liking it. She was soft and warm and even the light brush of her fingertips against his back was comforting. Everything about her was simultaneously comforting and maddening. More than maddening – on certain occasions, even terrifying.

When she pulled away, she gave him another smile. "You will call if everything goes south again?" she asked. "I'd really like it if you'd call."

"I'll call," he promised.

"I will hold you to that," she informed him. "Because I worry about you Sam."

"Honestly?" he returned, smirking slightly. "I worry about me too."

She didn't laugh. Her smile got sad. But she didn't make any comments on his pathetic joke. "Call," she practically ordered. "And remember – I have your number. I _will_ call you. Don't make me do it."

Sam laughed. "Deal."

Lynn patted his arm. "Good-bye Sam."

He smiled at her. "I'll see you soon."

She raised her eyebrow, clearly surprised by the comment. Sam just smiled again and headed to the car.

For once, she could be the frustrated one.

* * *

Jayne watched as Sam and Lynn made their way to the street, tapping her foot impatiently on the asphalt. It was time to leave. Jayne _needed_ to get out of this town and away from this house.

Too much had happened here. Too much had had to be relived. And she had almost lost the one thing that really mattered to her: her stepsister.

They were getting the hell out of this fucking place, and they were _not_ coming back.

"So I guess we'll see you around?"

Jayne looked up at Dean's sudden comment. He had been leaning beside her the whole time, but she had been paying little attention to him. In fact, she'd rather forgotten he was there.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Sure."

He smirked, chuckling slightly. "Well, no need to sound so thrilled, Goldilocks."

She glared at him. "Bite me."

He smirked again. "Thanks," he told her. "For, you know… coming out here and everything."

"Didn't really do it for you," she pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but… well, anyway. Sorry it wasn't the Big Kahuna."

Jayne shrugged, forcing a tiny smile for him. "There will be other Kahunas."

He snorted slightly. It was almost a laugh. "See you around, Goldilocks."

"See you around."

"Don't you be strangers now!" Missouri called. Jayne looked up from the conversation she'd been having with Dean to find Sam and Lynn had reached the road, and Missouri and Jenny were in the middle of the yard, waving farewell.

"We won't," Dean assured her.

Jayne said nothing. There was no need to tell the woman what she had probably already overheard her think: there was no way in hell Jayne was coming back to Kansas.

"See you around," Missouri said.

And for some reason, Jayne found that ominous.

Lynn walked around the front of the truck and climbed into the passenger seat. Dean and Sam got into their car. Dean started the engine up.

For a moment, Jayne just stood there in the street, watching as Dean started up his car and shifted out of park. Then he fiddled with radio for a few moments, gripping the steering wheel with one hand, before finally looking back up out the windshield and easing off the brake.

He waved at her. She waved back. Then the Impala pulled away from the curb, and Jayne found herself still watching as Dean drove off down the road.

"Yes," Missouri murmured, practically in Jayne's ear. Jayne jumped, turning around to look at the medium. Missouri didn't look at her. She just kept staring after the Impala. "That boy's hurting all right," she went on. "You hit the nail on the head."

Jayne knit her brows together, fixing the medium with an accusing look. "Do you mind staying out of my head, Sookie Stackhouse?"

Missouri took no offense to the comment. In fact, she carried on as if Jayne hadn't even spoken. "He spends all his time looking after everyone else, and he forgets to look after himself."

Jayne said nothing.

"So, yes," Missouri said, turning to Jayne. Her dark, spooky eyes bored right into Jayne's. "Maybe you should look after him."

Jayne looked away in agitation, running her tongue over her upper teeth.

"But don't get so preoccupied with him that you forget about yourself," Missouri warned. "Dean's not the only one who could use some looking after."

The comment hit Jayne where she lived, and she didn't care for it. Feeling her temper grow hot, she practically growled at Missouri, "I don't need anyone looking out for me. I can take care of myself."

"And everyone else too?"

Jayne glowered at her.

"It's all right to need a helping hand," Missouri murmured, looking away from her. The comment sounded like general, cliché advice – not like it was meant to be a warning for Jayne's ears and Jayne's ears only. Still, Jayne knew the comment had been directed at her.

The medium headed back towards the house. "You take care of yourself, now."

Jayne watched her walk away, both confused and seething. Then, shaking her head as though she were trying to knock water loose from her ears, Jayne yanked open the driver's door and slid behind the wheel of good, old, dependable Janis. Good, old, dependable, and _quiet_ Janis.

She started the engine. "What did Missouri have to say?" Lynn asked.

"Nothing," Jayne said shortly.

She shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb. "Yeah," Lynn murmured as Jayne began driving down the street. She sounded distracted. "I know what you mean."

Jayne frowned at Lynn out of the corner of her eye. Lynn stared out the passenger side window with a dreamy but perturbed look on her face. Shaking her head, Jayne focused her eyes back on the road, gunning for the Interstate.

Why Dorothy had been in such a hurry to get home to Kansas, Jayne would never know.

* * *


	28. Love Janis

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to angeleyenc, Peridot809, Nelle07, tbelle1234, legrowl, Padme4000, deansbabygirl934, impalame, Threemoons, Joan J., SilentKnightInDisguise11, Strangler000, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, DantesDarkAngel, and Electric13 for the reviews!

My computer came back! Yay!! Finally, an update!! I'm sorry, but I just didn't want to rewrite 10 pages of this chapter, so I had to wait for my baby to come home before I posted. I hope you guys understand!

****IMPORTANT: Ok, I've decided the title for this fic is lame, and I am changing it. The next time I update, the story title will have changed from "Who the Hell Are You?" to "Get It While You Can." (If you are unfamiliar with the legendary Janis Joplin, it's the title of one of her songs. Check it out. You know you want to.)

* * *

Chapter 28: Love, Janis

Jayne hefted her duffel bag into the bed of her pickup, wincing slightly as she heard something hard crack against the plastic bed liner. She could only hope she hadn't broken something important.

Part of her wanted to climb into the bed and start rooting through her duffel to find whatever it was that had made that noise, but she decided against it. They were already running late, and she was itching to get back on the road.

Although Jayne knew she had her fair share of blame in the morning's late start, she couldn't help but cite Lynn as the primary reason for how behind they were. Nothing seemed to incite the girl to move these days. She had become uncommonly unmotivated and taciturn. For the first time in a long time, Jayne had been in complete control. Whatever Jayne had said, went. Lynn had no opinions.

While it was nice not to be argued with every step of the way, Jayne stopped enjoying her newfound position of dictator about twenty-four hours into tracking that homicidal ghost through his creepy graveyard. There was no doubt about it; something was up with her stepsister.

Lynn was not quiet. Lynn was not unmotivated. And more importantly, Lynn _always_ had an opinion.

Jayne didn't know what was wrong with Lynn, but she knew something had to be. They had tracked down the graveyard ghost, saved the night guard from certain death, and salted and burned the bones… and Lynn had maybe uttered two words the whole hunt. When Jayne started to feel like she was the one talking too much, they were in trouble.

For the life of her, Jayne had no clue what it was about the graveyard ghost hunt that had turned Lynn silent and distracted. Rationally speaking, nothing about that hunt should have shook Lynn enough to make her stop running her mouth. And so, Jayne was forced to conclude that whatever had crawled up Lynn's ass had done so in Kansas.

The more Jayne thought about it, the more sense it made. It seemed to her that right upon leaving Kansas was when Lynn had stopped speaking. And really, why wouldn't Kansas have gotten under Lynn's skin? Kansas had certainly gotten to Jayne, even if she was hiding it better than her stepsister.

Jayne wasn't sure what part of the hunt had shook Lynn. If it had something to do with Sam and his freaky weirdo mind powers or if maybe it was just about reliving what had happened to Jayne's mother… or maybe it was the reminder that Stephen was gone, and he didn't seem the least bit inclined to come back.

Hell, for all Jayne knew, that boy could be dead.

But whatever it was, it had buried her stepsister alive in the blues, and Lynn didn't seem capable of digging her way out just yet.

Jayne was worried, but she had already decided to let Lynn come to her. After all, Lynn always did. Lynn could only suffer in silence for so long before she absolutely had to say something.

The door to the motel room opened, and Lynn stepped out into the parking lot, carrying her last load of stuff. Her eyes were focused on the ground beneath her, and she was walking much slower than usual.

"Hurry up!" Jayne hollered at her.

She never had been the patient and nurturing type.

Lynn looked up slightly and glowered at her. Then she returned her eyes to the ground and continued at the same speed.

When she'd finally reached the truck and tossed her bag in the bed, Jayne decided to say something. "You ok? You've been kind of dragging ass lately. It's not like you."

Lynn shrugged. "I'm fine, I guess."

Jayne nodded slowly. "Well, all right."

She unlocked the truck and climbed into the cab. Lynn walked around to the passenger's side and got in beside her.

Jayne didn't start the truck right away. She just sort of sat there for a moment, eyeing her moody and quiet stepsister.

"What?" Lynn asked.

Jayne shrugged. "Sorry, I just… if something's up, you can tell me."

"I know."

Jayne nodded again. Lynn said nothing. Jayne took a deep breath and turned the key in the ignition.

The engine made a spluttering, whistling sound. Then the sound stopped.

Nothing else happened.

Jayne was positive her heart stopped, if only for a moment. Dread began to fill her. Her stomach flopped over in absolute terror.

Fingers trembling, she turned the key again. The engine made that same pathetic noise. Janis did not rumble to life.

"What's wrong with the truck?" Lynn asked.

Jayne ignored her stepsister, entirely focused on Janis. She could feel her stomach turning over and her eyes getting big. She felt her breath coming in shorter gasps. Jayne forced in a large lungful of air, trying to calm herself. Then she tried to start her baby one more time.

Again, Janis failed to start.

"Baby?" she asked, her voice going up high and breaking like a pubescent boy.

"Oh god," Lynn muttered from the passenger seat. "Are you going to hyperventilate? Because I have no idea where to get a paper bag."

"Shut up," Jayne snapped, not even glancing in her stepsister's direction. She redirected her attention to Janis immediately, rubbing the steering wheel in a coaxing manner. "Janis, baby, come on! You can't do this to me!"

"It's a _truck_, Jayne. It can't hear you."

"It's a _she_," Jayne growled. "And her name is Janis."

Lynn rolled her eyes and flopped back in the seat.

Jayne popped the hood, and then climbed down from the cab, racing to the engine. Lynn groaned audibly, throwing open her door as well. "Jayne, what are you doing?"

"It might be the battery," Jayne replied, hefting up the hood and propping it open. She knew she sounded too calm, like a junkie trying to talk herself down from a bad acid trip. "I need a jumpstart."

Lynn sighed. "What if it's not the battery?"

"Don't you say that!"

Lynn held up her hands in surrender.

Jayne glanced around the parking lot frantically. There wasn't a soul in sight. "There's no one here!" she exclaimed – perhaps just a little too loudly. "What the hell am I going to do?"

"For crying out loud," Lynn nearly shouted. "Would you get a grip? It's a car!"

"She's a truck!"

Lynn rolled her eyes yet again. "Just stay here and remain calm," she bit out sarcastically. "I'll go get the desk clerk and ask if he can jumpstart us, ok?"

Jayne nodded, taking a deep breath. "Ok."

Lynn shook her head, obviously annoyed. Jayne almost told her to take a long walk off a short cliff, but her stepsister was halfway across the parking lot before she got the chance.

Turning to Janis, Jayne took another steadying breath – a steadying breath that quite failed to steady her – and patted the engine block in a comforting manner. "Come on, Janis," she crooned. "It's just the battery, right girl?"

The truck did not answer her. Jayne sighed heavily, gripping the top of the hood and burying her face in her extended arm.

"Janis, baby, you're breaking my heart."

* * *

It had been two days.

Lynn opened the motel room door tentatively, poking her head outside a mere few inches. Janis was still parked outside, the hood wide open.

Jayne was still buried in the engine.

Lynn shook her head at the sight, tiptoeing outside. She carefully hid the phone book in her hands behind her back as she made her way closer to her stepsister.

"Jayne?" she asked carefully.

"What do you want?" Jayne snapped, not looking up from the engine.

Lynn bit back a nasty retort. "It's been two days."

"I can tell time, Lynn, thanks."

It took all of Lynn's restraint not to rip her sister's head off. Jayne loved that truck so much… but still the woman was testing Lynn's sympathy.

"All right, then… do you think you can fix her?"

"I _will_ fix her."

"Yes, of course, it's just that… well, do you have any idea what's wrong with her?"

"Yeah," Jayne spat. "She won't start."

Lynn nodded slowly. "Yes, we know that… but do we know why?"

"Would you just leave me alone?"

"Jayne, I love Janis too," Lynn said. "I want to see her up and running every bit as badly as you do. In fact, I want to fix her so badly, that I think maybe we should seek outside assistance."

"No one touches my baby but me."

"Ok, but… see, what if someone who knew how to fix your baby touched your baby? That would be even better than you touching your baby."

Lynn winced as soon as the words left her mouth. Jayne's shoulders got stiff. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't… I didn't mean for that to sound quite so dirty."

Jayne's shoulders got stiffer, but still she refused to look up from the engine. "I can do this, Lynn."

"Right. I'm sure you can. But a mechanic…"

"Absolutely not!"

"_A mechanic_," Lynn pushed on. "Could fix it _way_ faster. And we have an important job, Jayne. Faster is better."

"Go inside!"

"But…" Lynn drew the phone book out from behind her back, starting to get desperate. "But I have the phone book!"

"No."

"I marked the spot in the yellow pages where they list mechanics for you!"

"No!"

"I _even_ highlighted the ones that got top ratings from the Better Business Bureau!"

"Get that phone book away from me!"

"You don't even have to call!" Lynn practically begged. "I'll do it! Just please…"

"I said no!"

Lynn glared at her stepsister's back, and then let out a long sigh, momentarily conceding defeat. "Fine."

Jayne bent further over the engine. Lynn hugged the phone book to her chest and stomped inside the motel room, muttering under her breath about her pigheaded stepsister and her stupid truck.

They were going to be trapped in this crappy little motel room _forever_.

* * *

Sam leapt out of the Impala, the ugly glare he'd been wearing since they hit the road still plastered on his face. Dean called something after him, obviously irritated, but Sam paid him no mind as he slammed the car door behind him and headed for the restroom.

They were stopping for gas just outside Illinois. Once they filled up, they'd head to Rockford. There, they'd investigate this haunted old asylum that their father had asked them to check out.

No. Not ask. He didn't ask them to do anything. John Winchester barked orders and expected them to be followed. More importantly, this time John Winchester hadn't bothered to ask or tell his boys a damn thing. He hadn't spoken to them at all. He had texted Dean from an unknown number with coordinates that led to Rockford, Illinois. That was all the text had contained: coordinates.

Sam was pissed off.

The man had disappeared for months without so much as a good-bye. He had left his boys with nothing but his old hunter's journal and a pair of coordinates. They hadn't heard from him since. And now, all of a sudden, he was sending them text messages of all things. Text messages that didn't bother with trivial formalities like hello or goodbye, text messages that didn't explain his absence or assure his kids that he was all right; no, none of that. All he sent were text messages that barked orders.

That was all John Winchester knew how to do: bark orders.

And Dean. Of course Dean was ready to oblige and obey. That was all Dean seemed to know how to do half the time: follow orders. He was either following his father's demands unquestionably, or he was dishing out orders of his own that Sam was expected to obey.

Sam had always hated taking orders. His whole life, he had been rebelling against the military survivalist approach that John Winchester had taken to fatherhood. And for the past four years of his life, Sam had finally escaped childhood in the army. He had finally made it out on his own and he had run his own life.

It was twice as difficult now to follow orders.

Sam found himself digging his cell phone out of his jeans.

After two rings, a woman's voice answered, "Hey, Sam."

"Lynn?" he asked, even though he knew it was her.

"Obviously. What's up?"

He sighed, half in frustration and half in relief. "I heard from my father."

There was a long silence on the other end. Sam rushed to fill it, hastening to assure Lynn that this sudden contact with his dad had nothing to do with Lynn's brother. "It's not anything like that. He just texted Dean." Sam snorted and chuckled bitterly. "He texted him coordinates."

"Coordinates?"

"Yeah," Sam let out another bitter laugh. "Just coordinates. No hello, no goodbye, no 'sorry for disappearing for about six months without telling you why,' just coordinates."

"I don't understand," Lynn said. "Coordinates for what?"

"It's a hunt," Sam returned, every ounce of his frustration and contempt oozing out into the words. "My dad sent us on a hunt."

Lynn didn't reply right away. When she did, she sounded disbelieving. "Wait. So your dad's sending you on a hunt. He hasn't talked to you in nearly six months, but he's just out of the blue sending you on a hunt."

"Yeah. That's my dad."

"Well, is he meeting you there?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed. "Maybe. Maybe not."

Lynn didn't reply right away. Sam sighed again. "Honestly? Probably not."

There was another pause. "Sam, I'm sorry," Lynn said finally. "I know how much you wanted to find him."

Sam wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Well," he murmured at last. "At least I know he's alive, right?"

"Yeah," she replied encouragingly. "There's always that."

He sighed once more, leaning against the gas station wall. "So… what's going on with you?"

Lynn laughed. Her laugh was short and irritated. It sounded like a bark.

"What?" Sam asked immediately. "What happened?"

"I'm trapped in a motel room in Illinois."

"Really?" Sam was instantly interested.

"Yeah. The truck died."

"What?!" Sam exclaimed. "What happened to the truck?"

"We don't know," Lynn replied, sighing heavily. "It just won't start."

"Did you take it to a mechanic?"

Lynn let out that same bark of a laugh once again.

Sam frowned, laughing slightly himself. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Lynn said slowly, a trace of annoyance in her voice. "That Jayne doesn't want mechanics touching her baby."

"That sounds like someone else I know."

"Maybe," Lynn returned, the trace of annoyance in her voice only increasing. "However, I'm assuming that Dean actually knows how to fix his Impala."

"Well, yeah… are you saying Jayne can't fix Janis?"

"She can do some things," Lynn said dryly. "Oil changes and other low level maintenance, but… in all actuality, Jayne's auto-mechanic knowledge barely fills the well."

Sam laughed out loud. "Really?"

"Really," Lynn replied, sounding far less amused. "And yet she's convinced she can fix Janis."

Sam laughed again.

"It's far less funny when you're the one trapped in the motel with her," Lynn informed him. "It's been three days so far. I give it another two before she finally gives in, at the least."

"Wow," Sam said, unable to contain his grin. "That's just… wow."

"Tell me about it."

Sam paused, thinking. "You say you're in Illinois?" he asked.

"Yeah. Marshall."

"Cemetery?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You know, we're headed to Rockport, Illinois," Sam told her. "Checking out a haunted asylum. Marshall's on our way. We could pick you guys up if you're getting restless. You could help us out while Janis is in the shop."

Lynn laughed. "You just voluntarily called that truck Janis."

Sam smiled in spite of himself. "What can I say? It's catchy."

"Thanks for the offer," Lynn said, sighing. "But Jayne's no where near ready to take the truck to a mechanic. And there's definitely no way she'll leave Janis alone in Marshall."

Sam laughed. "Well, you could go."

Lynn's voice took on a sly tone. "Maybe I could. But… Jayne might be kind of put out if I bail on her."

Sam laughed again, although in reality he wasn't exactly amused. He wasn't sure how to read Lynn's tone or her response. "Well…" he said slowly, affecting the same sly voice Lynn had used. "You know, Dean's actually really great with cars. I bet he could fix the truck, no problem."

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Maybe we could swing by Marshall and Dean could take a look under Janis's hood. Then, you know, if he fixes her, you two could head up to Rockford with us? Check out the asylum?"

There was a pause. "Maybe," Lynn said finally. "But Jayne might not let Dean get anywhere near her truck. Actually, she'll probably kill him if he takes two steps in Janis's direction."

"Right," Sam conceded, chewing on his lip. He wasn't sure if Lynn had rejected his offer or not. "Well, then… I guess we'll just head on to Rockford."

"Yeah," Lynn replied, her tone difficult to read. "All right then."

"Ok," Sam said. "Sorry you're stuck in Marshall."

"Eh," Lynn returned, sounding careless. "It's happened before, and it'll happen again."

Sam laughed. "Well, still. Sorry."

"Thanks."

"Bye."

"Bye Sam."

He hung up the phone. For a moment, he stood outside the gas station restaurant, contemplating the recently ended conversation. As usual, Lynn was just a little too difficult for him to accurately read. He wasn't sure whether or not to feel rejected.

His talk with Lynn, originally meant for venting purposes, had managed only to throw fuel on the fire of his annoyance. Now upset with his dad, his brother, and the increasingly complicated interaction between him and Lynn, Sam couldn't help but slam the door closed behind him as he finally stormed inside the bathroom.

* * *

Dean tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel of the Impala as he sat in the driver's seat, waiting on his brother.

Sam's attitude was starting to grate on Dean's nerves. He knew his brother was upset with their dad – and hell. He couldn't really blame the kid. But a hunt was a hunt, and just because they were pissed at their father was no reason to let innocent people die.

After several minutes of impatient tapping, Dean looked up to see Sam finally making his way back towards the car. Sighing in both annoyance and relief, Dean started up his car and turned up the volume on the radio.

Sam clambered into the passenger seat and slammed the door closed.

"Watch how you're treating my baby," Dean reprimanded him.

Sam rolled his eyes. Dean shifted out of park and pulled out of the gas station. His tires squealed as he tore off down the road.

"Dude, what crawled up your ass and died?" he asked, noting his brother's expression had only grown sourer.

Sam glared at Dean out of the corner of his eye. Then he sighed, folding his arms over his chest in petulance. "Nothing."

Dean rolled his eyes. "All right then."

They drove along in silence for a while. Dean began singing along to his ACDC cassette in a loud and obnoxiously out of tune voice. Sam sighed harshly – which Dean ignored, singing even louder.

"I called Lynn," Sam said finally.

"Really?" Dean asked, although he was sure that this sudden interest in conversation was his brother's way of stopping the off-key singing.

"Yeah," Sam chuckled. "Guess what?"

"What?"

"The truck died."

Dean was surprised at the way his stomach sank and his eyes bulged. "What?"

"The truck died."

"Janis is dead?"

Sam stared at him. "Whoa. You did it too."

"Did what?"

"You called the truck Janis," Sam explained. "She really gets into your head, doesn't she?"

Dean shrugged, making a noncommittal noise. "Whatever. So what? Is she gone for good?"

Sam shrugged too. "Don't know. Jayne's still trying to figure out what's wrong with her."

"Did Lynn think she'd be able to fix her?"

Sam laughed.

Dean frowned. "What?"

"Apparently Jayne's not exactly an auto-mechanic," Sam said. "She knows a few things, but not nearly enough to really fix whatever's wrong with the truck. She's just too stubborn to let anyone else touch poor Janis."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, that sounds like her."

"They're in Marshall, Illinois right now," Sam went on. "I offered to stop by, but Lynn didn't seem too in to the idea."

Ah. And now the bug that had crawled up Sam's ass finally had a name. "Why not?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "Something about Jayne and her stubbornness."

Dean nodded. "You want to stop?" he asked.

Sam stared at him. "Really?"

Dean shrugged. "Whatever's wrong with Janis, I can probably fix it."

"Probably," Sam replied. "But it might not be worth your life."

Dean snorted again. "Please. Goldilocks loves me."

Sam laughed. "You're delusional."

He glared at his younger brother. "Let's stop," Dean decided. "Maybe they'd want to come to Rockford."

Sam blinked. "Wait, really? You're on board with this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're joking, right?"

"What can I say, Sammy?" Dean said, smirking at his younger brother. "I'm just full of surprises."

Sam stared at him a while longer, and then settled back in his seat. "All right. Let's stop."

Dean smirked and hit the gas a little harder. Sam was quiet for a mere moment before he glanced back in Dean's direction with some annoyance.

"And don't call me Sammy."

* * *

There was a knock on the motel room door.

Lynn looked up from the magazine she'd grabbed at the nearby gas station and frowned in the direction the knock had come from. Laying the glossy rag flat on the bed, she got slowly to her feet and approached the door, her hand automatically going behind her back and hovering over the Glock tucked into her jeans.

She peered cautiously through the peephole. Her eyes widened in surprise. Standing at her door, hands shoved in his pockets, and glancing around him in anxiety, was none other than Sam Winchester.

Still frowning with both surprise and confusion, Lynn slowly opened the door and gave Sam a strange look punctuated with a smile. "Hey, Sam," she greeted him. "Uh… what are you…?"

"I know," he said a little too quickly. "This is kind of unexpected, and uh… but I told Dean about the truck and he decided to risk pissing off your stepsister and um, you know… take a look, so…"

"So you guys decided to stop," Lynn finished for him, cutting off Sam's rambling.

"Right," Sam agreed, nodding once and giving her a quick, nervous smile.

She smiled too, taking a step back and opening the door all the way. "Come on in," she said.

Sam did as asked, hunching over slightly as he stepped in through the door. "So, um… where's your brother?" she asked him, shutting the door behind him.

His hands were still in his pockets. Sam made his way to the middle of the room and stopped, standing there and glancing around. "Uh… he was going to check out Janis."

"Right," Lynn nodded. She fell silent, at a loss for words. This was unexpected, to say the least. When Sam had volunteered to bring his brother by and take care of the truck, Lynn had simply thought he was being nice. She had wondered about his real motives only when he'd suggested she accompany the brothers to Rockford. Now he was standing in her motel room, looking awkward, and Lynn was unsure why he was there, and what she was supposed to say.

"So, um… thanks for getting your brother to help us out," she tried.

Sam looked up at her. "Oh, well… actually, it was his idea. I mentioned the truck had broken down, and he decided he wanted to fix it."

Lynn frowned at him. Part of her was certain he was lying. "Dean _wanted_ to fix Janis?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah," he laughed. "He also thought you and your sister might want to check out that asylum I was telling you about."

"He did?" Lynn asked incredulously.

Again, Sam shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Weird, right?"

"So weird," Lynn agreed.

They fell into an awkward silence. "So, if Janis is up and running by nightfall, are you and Jayne interested in the asylum gig?" Sam asked.

Before Lynn could answer that question, the door swung open. Both Lynn and Sam's head's swung rather guiltily towards the entrance. Jayne stepped inside with her eyes trained on the floor, wiping her hands on an oil-stained rag. "I'm hungry," she announced, kicking the door closed behind her. "There's a Denny's down the street. You want to…?"

Suddenly, Jayne stopped. She had looked up from the ground and seen Sam. For a moment, she simply stood by the door, staring at him. Then she immediately rounded on Lynn.

"What is _he_ doing here?" she demanded.

"Hello to you too, Jayne," Sam said.

Jayne ignored him. "Lynn?"

"He called me," Lynn returned carelessly, despite feeling quite nervous. "They were in the area. Actually, they're on their way to Rockford to check out this haunted asylum, so if you're interested…"

Lynn trailed off, noticing her stepsister's angry eyes darting around the room. "What?" she asked.

"Where's Dean?" Jayne demanded suspiciously.

Lynn's eyes went wide with panic. She turned to Sam for help. Sam attempted to swoop in and take over, but he also began to stutter, which rather ruined the heroic effect. "Well, uh, look, he… he's outside. But he's just…"

Jayne turned her back on Sam before he could finish and threw open the door. She craned her neck in the direction of her truck, surveying the parking lot with narrowed eyes. Sam winced as her suspicious expression gave way to livid.

"_Dean Winchester_!" she bellowed.

Lynn covered her eyes.

"You keep your hands off my engine block!!" she shouted, storming out the door and into the parking lot.

Lynn winced, turning to Sam. "I'm just… going to try and ignore how dirty and wrong that sounded."

Sam began to laugh.

* * *

Dean hunched over Janis's engine block, flashlight in hand, frowning at the old engine. He narrowed his eyes further, bending a little closer to the interior of the truck. Thinking he'd detected the problem, he poked at the spot in question, and then straightened out, shrugging out of his leather jacket, and tossing it on top of the truck cab.

His shiny metal tool case was lying open on the blacktop, and Dean knelt down beside it, selecting the correct size wrench. Then, shiny and heavy tool in hand, he stood up once again, and returned to the truck.

"_Dean Winchester!_"

Dean winced, looking up ever so slightly from his work. Jayne was barreling across the parking lot, and even from a distance her fury was obvious. Dean half expected her to hulk out and start throwing cars at him.

"You keep your hands off my engine block!" she roared, getting closer with every word.

He straightened, turning the wrench over in his hand. The sight of Jayne storming towards him to defend her truck's honor was quite amusing. He raised his eyebrow, his lips pursed in a tiny smirk, and waited.

She finished her march, stopping directly before him. Her hands were on her hips and she had fixed him with a glower stolen from the Wicked Witch of the West. Before she could say a word, Dean informed her, "You need to calm down."

Jayne's already furious eyes narrowed dangerously. "Step away from my truck!" she snapped.

Dean held up his hands, as though to prove he was harmless. "I'm not going to hurt her!" he protested. "I was just checking some things out!"

"Dean Winchester…!"

He interrupted her, rolling his eyes. "Would you relax? Look, this isn't rocket science: your truck won't start. You want your truck to start. I can make your truck start. Can you just let me help you and stop being such a crazy bitch?"

"I don't want you under my hood!"

Dean blinked. "Well, that sounded vaguely dirty."

She smacked him in the chest. Dean stumbled back a step, wincing. "Oh, come on!" he exclaimed. "I was joking!"

Jayne's glower grew darker. "_Never_…"

"_Never_ ever joke about Janis," Dean interrupted, rolling his eyes once again. "I know. You're a psychopath, you know that?"

Her lips pressed together in an impossibly tight clench. "If you know the rules, then why do you insist on breaking them?"

"Well, what can I say?" he smirked, leaning cockily against the truck. "I'm a maverick. A rebel. And…"

She smacked him in the chest again. "Ow!" he exclaimed. "Damn it, woman, quit smacking me!"

"Did Lynn put you up to this?" Jayne demanded. "Did she? Because despite what she may have told you, I do _not_ need help."

"I'm sure you don't," Dean replied smoothly. "So, what's wrong with her?"

Jayne continued to glower at him, but remained silent. Apparently, she had no answer to his question.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, returning his eyes to the engine. "Here, let me show you something. Hold this."

He offered her the flashlight. Jayne crossed her arms over her chest and glowered at the object in question. Dean frowned, shaking the light in her direction. "You going to take this or not?" he asked in annoyance.

She redirected her glower at him. "I'm not holding the flashlight! That's the girl job! Why do I have to do the girl job?"

"Oh, I don't know," Dean retorted. "Because it's the only job you know how to do?"

The glower deepened, and Dean automatically winced, expecting to be smacked again. The hit never came. But Jayne ripped the flashlight from his hand so viciously that Dean swore she was trying to tear his arm off.

She clicked the on switch with unnecessary force and held the light over the engine, her lips tight and her eyes dark with fury. Shaking his head, Dean bent over the block and pointed at the problem area with the wrench. "Your belt's loose."

Jayne glared at him out of the corner of her eye.

"When the belt's loose, the battery can't charge. Battery can't charge, engine won't start."

She said nothing.

"I can tighten it for you."

Still nothing.

Dean sighed and knocked his elbow into her arm, thrusting the wrench at her. "Here."

She frowned directly at him, looking both surprised and confused – and still completely pissed off.

"Take the wrench," he elaborated, the treble of his voice rising a note in his exasperation.

Jayne eyed the wrench with suspicion. "Why?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "So you can tighten the belt."

"You're going to show me how?"

"Yeah, I'm going to show you how."

"Why?"

"Why? Jesus – because I wanna!"

"You're so sweet," she spat. "Teaching the poor, pathetic girl how to fix her own truck."

"Are you serious right now?"

"I don't need you to patronize me, you chauvinistic little shit!" she exploded, slamming the flashlight down on her engine block. An ear splitting clang resonated throughout the parking lot.

Instantly, Jayne winced, wheeling towards her baby in panic. "Shit! Janis, baby, I'm so sorry!"

And even though Dean knew he was asking for trouble, he started to laugh.

She turned on him, flashlight going up aggressively. Dean held his hands up in surrender, stepping back from her even as he continued to chuckle.

"Are you laughing at me?" she thundered.

Dean nodded in between guffaws.

Jayne took a threatening step forward. Dean attempted to regain at least a portion of his composure. "Look, this isn't some sexist charity thing," he defended himself. "I'm just trying to be nice."

"I don't need you to be nice to me!"

He stared at her for a moment. Then he rolled his eyes, making a decision. He pushed her aside and bent over the truck. "See that?" he asked.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you see what I'm pointing at or not?"

"Yeah, I see it. What are you…?"

"All you have to do is grab that like this," he explained, fitting the joint to the wrench. "And twist." He gave her an ironic look over his shoulder. "I'm assuming I don't have to explain the fundamentals of lefty-loosey to you."

She was staring at him, her expression a comical blend of gob-smacked and thunderstruck. Her mouth was open in a little o, her eyebrows were bent together, and her gray eyes were confused and furious. "Are you…?"

Dean tightened the belt, turning his back on her. When he was finished, he straightened out and wiped the wrench with his handkerchief. "Start her up," he said. "See if she'll run."

Jayne didn't move. Dean glanced over his shoulder and raised his eyebrow. "Start her up," he repeated.

For a moment, she simply stood there, staring at him, attempting speech and failing. Instead, her breath came out in short, harsh huffs and puffs, while her eyes darted from him to the truck.

He laughed. "That's adorable."

Dean barely ducked the flashlight that flew at his head. "Damn it!" he exploded. "What the hell is wrong with you? You don't just go around whipping flashlights at people!"

"Well, you can't just… just… fix things when… when no one… asked you to!"

He blinked. For a moment he simply stared at her in disbelief. Then he glanced over at the truck and raised his eyebrow. "You going to start her up or not?"

Jayne gawked at him some more. Then, her shoulders went stiff. Her jaw got tight. She stalked over to her truck, yanked open the door, and got behind the wheel.

The engine roared to life. Dean crowed triumphantly as he dropped his wrench back in his toolbox and then slammed the hood closed. Laughing, he approached the driver's side window and leaned against the cab frame. Jayne sat stock still, glowering at the dashboard.

"You're welcome," Dean smirked.

Jayne didn't look at him. "Thank you," she said through her teeth.

He reached through the open window and patted her on the shoulder. Then he turned away, still smirking, and headed for the motel.

Jayne remained in the cab of her truck after he left, still fuming. Janis rumbled away, in as good a condition as she had been before the break down. Addressing her truck, Jayne let out an accusing mumble.

"Traitor."

* * *


	29. Asylum

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to deansbabygirl934, SingingInTheRain1989, angeleyenc, impalame, legrowl, Heavenstar3, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, Padme4000, A person, Nelle07, Savannah101, Joan J., and Strangler000 for the reviews!

Regarding the title…. Strangler000, you almost have me convinced. ;) I've entertained similar notions before deciding to change the title, but wasn't sure if other people were picking up on what I was. Since you seem to be… I'm reconsidering making the change. For the present, the title will remain the same. I may post a poll in the future. If anyone else out there has an opinion on the story title, I'd love to hear it!

* * *

Chapter 29: Asylum

Lynn sat at the bar, one leg crossed over the other, drumming her long shiny nails on the countertop. In one hand, she held her drink: a vodka and cranberry. In between furtive glances around the dark, crowded and smoky bar, she'd sip on the thin red straw poking out of short glass.

Beside her, Jayne sat on another barstool, her back against the bar, taking long gulps from her skinny brown beer bottle. She too was looking around the room.

They had followed the Winchester boys to Rockford. The case stood as such: a young police officer had killed his wife and then shot himself right after investigating the so-called haunted asylum. And of course, according to local legend, this so-called haunted asylum made anyone who stepped inside go crazy.

The reason they were carousing this bar was simple; it was the local cop hangout. The four hunters were hoping to run into the now deceased cop's partner.

Lynn had been sitting at the bar for nearly an hour. She was on her third vodka and cranberry.

When the night began, the plan had not been to get drunk. The plan had been to do her job. The plan had been to not worry about Missouri Mosely and her haunting words of wisdom. The plan had been to not let Sam mess with her head.

Plans change.

Sam, being present, was the foremost concern of her tipsy mind. Her primary beef with the youngest Winchester was simple; the boy was impossible to read. Lynn had plain given up trying. See, Sam had called _her._ He had shown up at her door.

But now that they were in Rockford, Sam had become distant. Way less chatty. Completely awkward. Lynn supposed he was focusing on the case, but it frustrated her to no end that he couldn't work a job _and_ pay her some attention. It didn't have to be a lot of attention – a friendly word or two would suffice. But no. Nothing.

She was sick and tired of the games they seemed to be playing. She was ready to take the guesswork out of their relationship.

And by relationship, she meant friendship. Of course.

She sucked the last of her drink through the tiny straw, making a loud slurping sound. Jayne raised an eyebrow in her direction. Ignoring her stepsister, Lynn waved down the bartender and ordered a fourth.

"You want to slow it down a little, alkie?" Jayne asked, sipping her beer. It was her first of the night. "We _are_ working a case here."

"I'm fine," Lynn snapped. "It's only four drinks. That's nothing."

"Yeah," Jayne said skeptically. "Maybe. If the last time you ate something hadn't been over six hours ago."

"Shush," Lynn waved her off. "It's just a drink. Besides, sometimes I work better with a little buzz."

"Well, that's just a big steamy pile of not even remotely true."

Lynn flipped Jayne the finger.

Seconds later, her drink arrived. She pushed a few bills in the bartender's direction and immediately took a sip.

That was about the time Sam appeared next to her. She almost didn't notice, he moved so soundlessly. Lynn looked at him over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow.

He paid her no mind and, predictably, got straight down to business. "Dean found the cop," Sam announced, leaning his elbow on the countertop. "He's going to slip him the nosy reporter dick act…"

"Dean's dick thing is an act?" Jayne interrupted.

Sam blinked. "Um… sometimes. Anyway, Dean's going to be a dick and I'm going to shove him."

"The plan is to shove Dean?" Jayne asked, her tone interested. "Hell, I'll volunteer for that job."

Sam cocked his eyebrow, wearing a wry but surprised smile. Lynn punched her stepsister in the shoulder.

"There's no need to be such a bitch," she informed Jayne. "That nice boy fixed your truck, even though you threw things at him. You shouldn't be so ungrateful."

Jayne gave her the skunk eye.

"How many have you had?" Sam asked.

Lynn narrowed her eyes at him.

"Oh, kid, I know you did not just ask her that," Jayne snorted, draining her beer.

Sam looked from Jayne to Lynn uncertainly, his eyes wide. There was a strange look of boyish innocence on his face. This did little to pacify Lynn.

"I am not drunk," she informed him with no small level of annoyance, leveling her fingertip with the end of his nose.

Sam blinked. A short chuckle escaped from deep in his throat. "Never said you were."

"Good. Because I'm not. I can hold my liquor."

Sam seemed to be fighting a smirk. This only served to piss Lynn off further. "I'm sure you can," he said.

"Don't mock me," Lynn snapped. "I can drink as much as I want."

Sam nodded. "Ok."

Lynn returned to her drink.

Jayne raised her eyebrow at Sam, giving him an amused and knowing look.

Sam's smile was still bemused. He met Jayne's eyes briefly and then glanced across the bar.

Dean was making his way towards an aging black man sitting at a table by the door. The man's shoulders were hunched over and he was nursing a beer, all by his lonesome.

Undoubtedly the mourning cop in question.

Dean took a seat across the table from the man, wearing a cocky, self-assured smirk.

"That's my cue," Sam said. He pushed himself off the bar and headed towards the table.

Lynn stared at the tall, lean, muscular form of Sam Winchester as he walked away. Then she turned back to the bar and sucked down her drink.

Jayne ordered another beer, accepting the open bottle from the bartender. She took a heavy swig and turned back around, eyeing the Winchester's act across the bar. Then she glanced in Lynn's direction, raising her eyebrow again.

"You all right?" she asked.

Lynn ordered another vodka and cranberry. "Sure."

"He's just a boy."

"Mm-hmm."

"Far as I can tell, he hasn't done anything wrong."

"Yep."

Jayne stared at her. Lynn ignored her, sipping her drink.

"You know you're buckets of crazy, right?"

Lynn glared at her.

Jayne shrugged her shoulders, her brown flannel bunching up around her neck, and then took another long drink of her beer. "Well, you are," she said. "And he's buckets of complicated. I can't decide if you're made for one another or if you're the worst possible match to come out of Hell."

Lynn threw back a little more of her drink. "Shut up."

* * *

Dean stomped around the small parking place behind the bar, staying in the vicinity of his Impala. He was incredibly irritated. His brother was taking forever to interview that cop, and he was starting to get bored. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he had some company, but neither Jayne nor Lynn were coming out. Not to mention, Sam had been a little too forceful during their staged confrontation.

And Jayne. Who got mad at someone for helping them? That was ridiculous! She was psychotic. Furthermore, she wouldn't look at or talk to him. That was driving him nuts. After all, Sam was rediscovering his daddy issues and Lynn was getting drunk, and both of them were acting like idiots in the other's presence, and if Jayne wouldn't talk to him, who was he supposed to make fun of them with?

After what felt like years of pacing, the door to the bar opened and Sam came hurrying out. Not far behind him were Jayne and Lynn. Lynn was walking a straight line, but she looked dazed, as though she wasn't really seeing the world in front of her. Jayne was a step or two behind her, watching her carefully as though she expected to have to catch her at some point.

The case was starting to feel like too much. Sam was being moody and irritable, thanks to the ridiculous text message from their father. Dean was as pissed at John for that move as Sam was, but they needed to think big picture. Their father was being an ass right now, but that didn't change the fact that innocents in Rockford were dying. If they didn't stop whatever was lurking in Roosevelt Asylum, who would?

And then of course, Jayne was angry at him. And Lynn was drinking. Dean didn't blame her; a few drinks were looking pretty good to him too at that point. Still, she was Lynn. And he'd always had this image of her being responsible, level headed, and job-oriented. Not the type that got smashed in a bar.

He was starting to reappraise this notion.

The other three hunters reached the parking space. "Shoved me kind of hard in there, buddy boy," Dean snapped at his younger brother.

"Had to sell it, didn't I?" Sam retorted. The reasoning sounded like a flimsy excuse to take out his frustrations on Dean.

"You're lucky," Jayne interjected. "I would have shoved you harder."

Dean glowered at her, about to make an angry retort. Lynn intervened.

"Please," she snorted, waving her hand at her stepsister in a rather uncoordinated way. "Can't we all just get along?"

"Of course we can," Sam agreed all too seriously. Dean rolled his eyes as Sam stared at the slightly inebriated woman before him for a second too long. Jumping a drunk chick might just do Sam wonders, but he knew all too well that sex was the last thing on Sam's mind. There was no way he was thinking what Dean was thinking; Sam was thinking along the lines of some sort of depressing, so-called touching concern. He was worried he'd have to catch Lynn, or hold her hair while she puked her guts out, or some other such shit.

Quite frankly, Dean found that ridiculous. The girl wasn't _that_ drunk. He wished Jayne and Sam would cut her a break.

But there was no need to bring any of that up. "What'd you find out?" Dean conceded, dropping the subject.

"Well, according to his partner, Walter Kelly was a good cop," Sam explained. "Top of his class. He had a bright future ahead of him."

"So he shot his wife," Lynn interrupted sardonically, leaning against her sister's pickup. "Because that's what all good cops do. Woman hating son of a…"

"Ok," Jayne interrupted. "No more vodka and cranberry for you."

"I am not drunk," Lynn snapped.

"Just finish the story, Sam," Jayne said, ignoring her stepsister.

"Yeah," Dean interjected. "How'd he get along with his wife?"

"Um, well… I guess they had a few fights, but nothing really out of the ordinary," Sam explained, looking a little thrown off by the interruption. "Seemed like smooth sailing."

"So either Kelly had some deep seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him," Dean concluded.

Sam shrugged.

"All right," Dean said, taking charge. "I say we roll out of here, get some shut eye, and head up to the asylum tomorrow morning. Agreed?"

"Sounds good," Sam agreed.

"Whatever," Jayne muttered.

For some reason, her tone struck a nerve. "You have a problem with my plan?" Dean demanded.

"Nope," Jayne returned, crossing her arms over her chest and looking him straight in the eye. "Just with you."

Dean glared at her. She smirked at him. Lynn pushed herself off the truck and announced a little too loudly, "I am so not in the mood for this crazy crap you two pull. Let's just go; I'm tired."

Jayne and Dean redirected their glares in Lynn's direction. She ignored them both and headed for Janis's passenger side door.

"I'm with Lynn," Sam said. "Dean?"

"Whatever," Dean muttered, heading for the Impala.

He got in and slammed the door. As he watched, Jayne and Lynn got into the truck. The truck rumbled to life – thanks to him, he might add – and then pulled out of its parking spot, headed for the motel.

Sam got in next to him. Dean turned the key in the ignition, glowering after the truck.

"Dude," Sam laughed. "What did you expect?"

Dean glared at Sam instead. "Oh, I don't know! A little gratitude would be nice!"

"Dean, you fixed her truck," Sam returned. "Of course she's mad at you."

"What do you mean, of course she's mad at me?" Dean exclaimed. "That makes no sense at all!"

"It's Jayne," Sam answered smartly. "Think about it."

Dean huffed angrily. "I don't want to think about it."

He returned his eyes to the road, fuming. Sam rolled his eyes.

"This is going to be a long hunt."

* * *

Jayne glanced at her tipsy stepsister. Lynn was rolling down the truck window, a cigarette in her hand.

"I thought you quit," Jayne remarked.

"I did," Lynn replied. "Now I only light up when I drink."

"Oh," Jayne returned dryly. "That… that's really inspiring."

"Last time we hit a bar, you smoked half a pack of Reds," Lynn retorted, lighting her cigarette. "So, um… don't judge me. Bitch."

"I'm not judging you," Jayne sighed. "I'm just saying… you have not been acting like yourself. Drinking, yeah. Seen you do that. Smoking when you drink – seen that too. But drinking when we have a job? That's a new one."

"What?" Lynn snapped, taking a long drag. "I can't have fun?"

"No, you can have fun. But, um… you're not."

There was a long silence. "Lynn," Jayne said finally. "What's wrong?"

For a long time, Lynn said nothing. But eventually she asked, her voice quiet, "Jayne, what do you know about my mom?"

Jayne didn't reply right away. She was more than a little surprised at the question. "Your mom?" she repeated after a moment's pause.

"Yeah," Lynn said. "My mom. My birth mom. You know, Inez Rodriguez."

It was a strange question, to say the least. Lynn had never asked it before. In fact, they rarely mentioned Inez Rodriguez. Jayne barely remembered her. All she could recall was a vague impression of dark eyes and smoky hair and the soft clinking of jewelry.

"I don't know anything about your mom," Jayne replied honestly. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Why can't I?" Lynn demanded.

Jayne glanced at her stepsister again, taken back. "I didn't say you couldn't. It's just… I've known you since you were born, Lynn, and you've never asked me that question."

It seemed Lynn didn't know how to answer. She began to stutter. "Well… I don't… it's just… with everything that's been happening lately, I just thought… I'd like to know something about my family."

Jayne nodded slowly. She supposed that made sense. Still, the question felt just a little too random. Out of place. "I'm… I'm sorry, Lynn," she told her stepsister. "Russ never told me anything about her."

There was another long silence. "Did you check the journals?" Jayne asked suddenly, struck by inspiration. "Maybe…"

"That's just it!" Lynn practically exploded. "I've been over every single one of them with a fine tooth comb! There's nothing, Jayne! He mentions her once! Once, in twenty notebooks!"

"You checked _all_ of them?"

"Yes!"

"_All_ of them?"

Lynn sniffed in annoyance. "Well, Jayne, you had me stranded at a motel in Marshall for three days. I got bored."

"You got really, _really_ bored."

Lynn bent over the bag sitting at her feet and started digging through it. After a few seconds of frantic shuffling, she yanked one of Russ's steno-pads out and flipped it open to a pre-marked spot.

"Here, listen," she ordered, spreading the open notebook out on her lap. "Right here, in this one. This is the only mention of my mother."

She cleared her throat and read aloud. "Today, Inez gave birth to our daughter: Lynnette Marcella Rodriguez Juarez. I think I'll call just call the poor kid Lynn."

Jayne snorted. "Russ always did have a sense of humor."

"Why wouldn't he say anything else?" Lynn demanded. "He never writes about her! I mean, Ana's all over these books!"

"Well, there's a reason for that," Jayne rationalized. "These are Russ's hunting journals. He writes about the things he hunts. And since he's been hunting whatever killed my mom for about sixteen years, then yeah. I'd guess he would mention her a lot."

"But…"

"I mean, maybe it's a good thing Inez isn't in there. Maybe that means your mom was completely one hundred percent normal. She and your dad had a completely one hundred percent normal relationship and everything was just fine and completely one hundred percent normal!"

Even as she spoke, Jayne knew she wasn't convincing anybody. Hell, she wasn't even convincing herself. The ramble had been almost desperate; the words of someone grasping at straws. It had ended too loudly, the way people in denial ended their rants. Not that Jayne was in denial. They had no reason to think Inez Rodriguez was in anyway connected to anything supernatural.

But considering their family's track record, well…

"Maybe," her stepsister murmured uncertainly.

"Maybe?" Jayne repeated. "What, you think I'm wrong?"

"I don't know," Lynn retorted. "I mean, maybe everything was normal. Or maybe… maybe Dad didn't want us to know exactly how weird things actually were."

There was a long silence. "Well," Jayne said finally. "That's an unsettling thought."

They fell silent again and remained so for the rest of the drive. Jayne steered Janis into the motel lot and parked outside the room she and Lynn were sharing. Dean's Impala pulled in beside them two seconds later.

Jayne glowered out the window at the two boys as they climbed out of their car and headed towards their room. Well, actually she glowered at Dean.

"Prig," she muttered.

Lynn snorted. "You're an idiot."

Jayne swung her head around to look at her. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Lynn said, getting out of the truck. Jayne followed suit. "You know he didn't do anything wrong. All he did was fix Janis. He helped you, Jayne. He did something _nice_ for you."

"It wasn't nice!" Jayne exploded. "It was… he was…"

"Oh come off it," Lynn rolled her eyes. "He didn't emasculate you or something equally ridiculous. I mean really, Jayne. Sometimes you're going to need help. Everybody does. There's nothing wrong with that. And if our friends offer to help us, there's nothing wrong with letting them – even if that friend is Dean Winchester."

These were words Jayne didn't want to hear. "You're drunk," she accused her stepsister.

"Maybe," Lynn replied. "Maybe I'm drunk. But I'm also right."

* * *

Sam marched out of Dr. James Ellicott's psychiatric office, feeling more than unusually pissed off. It was one of those days that just kept getting more and more annoying. He had spent the morning in the Roosevelt Asylum, investigating the abandoned hospital's south wing. They hadn't found much. Dean had made the connection between the south wing and the fire that had occurred there in the '70s not too long after the hospital had closed. One teenager had survived, saying that one of his friends had simply gone nuts and started lighting the place up.

There had been no reading on the EMF, but they had found a clue in the form of a plaque: Dr. Sanford Ellicott. And so, after a long morning of stomping around the dank, dusty asylum and being the butt of Dean's psychic/ESP jokes, Sam had made an appointment with Ellicott's son, Dr. James Ellicott, to find out what he could about the now deceased chief of staff and the closing of the Roosevelt Asylum.

It didn't help that Sam's father wasn't in Rockford. It didn't help that Dean wasn't bothered about it. It really didn't help that Dean refused to talk about it.

And Lynn, in all her aggravating glory, had taken Dean's side.

"I don't understand him," Sam had vented to her as they'd followed Dean and Jayne out of the asylum. Despite walking alongside one another, neither Jayne nor Dean would speak to the other. "I don't understand how he can be so calm about all this."

"I'm sure he's not," Lynn reasoned. "He's probably just as upset as you are. I think he just sees things a little differently, that's all."

"That's all?" Sam repeated incredulously. "No. No, that's not all. You heard him, didn't you? He's just perfectly willing to follow Dad's orders, without question, even though he knows Dad's wrong. He has to know Dad's wrong. But that's Dean; he never could stand up to Dad. Of course, when it comes to me, Dean never has any problem telling me I'm wrong. Telling me what to do."

He sighed heavily. "Sometimes I think he's just like Dad."

"That's a little harsh," Lynn replied. "I doubt Dean would ever pick up in the middle of the night and bail on you. He doesn't have it in him."

"That's not the point!"

"Sure it is," Lynn returned. "Your father bailed on you, didn't explain why, and still expects you to follow orders. That's the real reason you're so upset. Dean's bossy, granted, but he's not the drill sergeant you make your father out to be."

Sam gawked at her, only growing more pissed by the second.

"Besides, as much as your dad's being an ass right now?" Lynn went on. "This is still a case, and people here are still dying. Don't get me wrong; if I was in your shoes, I'd be every bit as pissed as you are. But still… we can't leave, you know. Not without finishing the job."

Sam had wanted to snap at her. He had wanted to point out the irony of those words when they came from someone who had gotten drunk the night before. He had wanted to ask if she'd be snooping around Roosevelt Asylum if it had been Stephen texting her coordinates instead. He'd bet good money she would have driven as far away from Rockford as she could get just to spite her brother.

But he didn't say any of those things. He just thought them, fuming silently, balling his hands into fists inside his coat pockets.

So when Dr. James Ellicott had made him a deal – the whole gruesome story of the Roosevelt Riot in exchange for one honest anecdote about himself – Sam hadn't been able to contain all the negative feelings swimming in his head about Dean and Lynn and his father. They had all come pouring out faster than he could think. And so now, even after forty minutes of venting, Sam was still furious. He felt as though he still had more he wanted to say.

"Dude," his brother said, appearing at the exit. "You were in there forever! What the hell were you talking about?"

"Just the hospital, you know," Sam replied evasively.

"And?"

Sam waited until they had reached the Impala. Jayne and Lynn were waiting outside the car. "And," he answered when the two girls were in earshot. "Apparently the south wing was where they housed the criminally insane – you know, serial killers and other psychotics. Really violent cases. And apparently, one night they rioted. It was pretty gory, actually. Dead staff members, dead patients. A lot of the bodies were never recovered. Including Dr. Sanford Ellicott."

"Sounds cozy," Dean quipped.

"What do you mean, the bodies were never recovered?" Lynn asked. "I mean, it's just a building. There's only so many places the bodies could be."

Sam shrugged. "I guess the patients must have stuffed the bodies… somewhere hidden."

"That's disgusting," Jayne observed.

"So what I'm hearing," Dean summed up. "Is that we have a whole lot of violent deaths and a whole lot of uncovered bodies. Which means a whole lot of pissed off spirits."

"Pretty much," Sam said.

"Sounds like good times," Dean replied. "Let's check out the hospital tonight."

* * *

When the four hunters had investigated the hospital earlier that day, they'd found little there that could be considered even remotely frightening. It was a grim place, cast in dull morning light, scorched and grimy, scattered with broken toys and equipment, but grim didn't equal terrifying.

However, now that it was dark out, the asylum had changed. Dean didn't need his brother's freaky mind powers to feel the change in the atmosphere. The temperature inside the asylum was several degrees cooler than it had been outside. As soon as he stepped through the door, Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight.

Four flashlights clicked on, illuminating the passage in front of them. It appeared empty, but Dean wasn't buying it.

He pulled the EMF reader out of his coat pocket. Immediately the lights began flashing and a whining scratching sound assailed their ears.

"Get a reading?" his brother asked.

"Big time," Dean replied.

Sam was focused on the viewfinder in his camera. "This place is orbing like crazy."

Dean glanced at the screen. "We got a few spirits out and about," he observed.

"Cool," Jayne murmured from behind him. He looked over his shoulder and found her between him and Sam, looking at the camera as well. "All right. Lynn and I will go that way, you two go the other way."

Sam nodded distractedly. Dean whirled around, frowning. "What?" he hissed. "No, no, no! Stay here!"

Both Jayne and Lynn frowned back at him. "Why?" Jayne asked.

"Well… you know," Dean retorted, gesturing around them. "Psycho spirits! All over the place!"

Jayne glowered at him. "Look, Winchester," she growled. "There are four of us. We can make two groups of two, be just as safe as if we stuck together, and at the same time, cover way more ground. Now tell me you aren't too stupid to figure that out."

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "You know what?" he snapped. "Fine! Go ahead and mix with the angry spirits, Goldilocks! Get turned crazy! See if I care!"

"I'm glad we're on the same page!" she snapped back. "Come on, Lynn."

Jayne moved to head down her aforementioned corridor. Lynn stood still by Dean and Sam for a moment, looking caught in the headlights.

"Um…" she said.

"Lynn!" Jayne snapped.

Lynn jumped. "Well, you don't have to yell at me!"

"Are you coming?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lynn sighed, following her stepsister down the hall. The two of them disappeared into the dark corridor. Dean watched them leave, torn between anger and concern.

"Dude," Sam said. "Are we just going to stand here, or…"

"I'm going!" Dean barked, stomping off down the corridor.

He heard Sam muttering something under his breath behind him, but Dean ignored him. They made their way down the corridors, shining their flashlights into corners, using their EMF and camera viewfinder to the best of their advantage. After navigating a few of the dark, twisty halls, they came to an open room, filled with old, rusted hospital equipment.

Dean poked around one corner of the room while Sam took the other side. He was fuming. That woman was driving him absolutely nuts! As things stood, Jayne was far more likely to drive Dean off the deep end than any of the angry spirits crawling around this place.

She just would not let it go. Ever since he'd fixed Janis, everything had to be a fight. And now she wanted to traipse around a haunted asylum full of crazy axe-murdering ghosts _alone_ just to prove that she could be as big a man as he could.

He was just exhibiting a little friendly concern, after all. That hardly made him a sexist prig.

"Dean!" Sam suddenly shouted from the other side of the room. "Dean! Shotgun!"

Dean spun around, tossing his back on the floor and drawing his shotgun. He cringed at the sight of a short, squat, elderly woman advancing on Sam, her arms reaching out for him. Her face looked like someone had taken a meat hammer to it.

"Sam, get down!" Dean ordered, aiming for the spirit's head.

Sam ducked. Dean fired. The ghost vanished in a cloud of smoke and salt.

Dean lowered the shotgun only slightly as he looked around the room in paranoia, half expecting to see another angry spirit charging towards them. Sam straightened up, glancing around just as frantically.

"That was weird," he announced.

"You're telling me," Dean retorted, grabbing his bag and heading for the door.

"No, Dean, it was weird that she didn't try to attack me," Sam said, following after him.

Dean gave him a weird look. "That looked pretty attack mode to me."

"No, Dean. It was like she wanted something. But if she didn't want to hurt me, then what did she want?"

Dean didn't get a chance to reply. A sound from one of the rooms they were passing startled both of them into silence. Exchanging looks, the two brothers marched into the room in question, headed straight for an old metal bed lying on its side.

Sam shone the light over the bed. Dean held his shotgun at the ready. Then Sam yanked the bed away.

A small blonde figure appeared in the corner. She yelped, spinning around. One look at her terrified face was all it took to confirm the blonde figure was indeed human.

Instantly, Dean felt bad. The young girl was scared out of her mind. "Hey," he whispered cajolingly, taking a step forward. The girl pressed herself farther into the corner. "Hey, it's all right. It's all right. We're not going to hurt you."

She looked only slightly appeased. "What's your name?" he asked.

The girl got slowly to her feet, shaking like a cornered rabbit. "Katherine," she whispered. "Kat."

"All right," Dean said, still trying to be soothing. "I'm Dean, this is Sam…"

"What are you doing in here?" Sam interrupted.

Kat looked from Dean to Sam, still frightened. "M…my boyfriend. Gavin," she stuttered.

"Is he still here?" Dean asked.

"Somewhere," Kat replied, still stuttering. "He thought it would be fun… to see some ghosts. I thought it was all pretend."

She was breathless, and Dean could see tears shining on her face. "I've seen things," she whispered, hugging her sweater closer around her chest. Her voice rose a notch or two. "I heard Gavin scream."

Dean glanced at Sam. Instantly, the two of them sprang into action. "Look, Kat," Dean said, taking her by the hand and drawing her out of the corner. "Sam's going to get you out of here. I'll…"

"No," Kat protested, much louder than she had been up to this point. "No, I'm not leaving without Gavin. I'm coming with you."

"It's no joke around here," Dean argued with her. "It's dangerous."

"That's why I got to find him," Kat replied.

For a moment, Dean just looked at Kat and his brother. Then, relenting against his better judgment, he announced. "Fine. I guess we'll just split up then."

Kat looked at him gratefully. Sam seemed willing to go with the plan. Still gripping Kat's hand, Dean led her off in one direction, and Sam took the other.

Hopefully, Gavin was still alive.

* * *

"See anything?"

Jayne glanced at her stepsister. She was walking ahead of Lynn, holding both a flashlight and a shotgun at the ready. "Not yet," she replied. "You?"

Lynn shook her head. "Not a thing."

Jayne sighed, moving on ahead. "You know, for a haunted asylum, this is pretty boring."

"Don't say that," Lynn retorted. "That's just asking for something to attack us."

Jayne snorted. "Yeah, well, I could do with a little excitement."

She pushed open a white door, stepping into a dark room. In a rather stupid move, she shone her flashlight into the corners of the room and didn't bother with the floor directly in front of her.

Her boot caught something hard and fleshy. With a muffled shriek, she toppled over the large object at her feet, landing on her hip. Her flashlight went off on impact.

She heard Lynn yelp and drop her flashlight. It hit the ground with a loud clatter. . "Jaynie!" she exclaimed. "Oh my god! Jaynie!"

"I'm fine!" Jayne snapped, embarrassment making her irritable. "Get a grip, woman. I just tripped over something."

She got to her feet, brushing herself off. Lynn moved closer to her side, retrieving her flashlight from the ground. Then Jayne clicked her flashlight back on.

"Let's see what I tripped on," she said, shining the light at the floor.

Her light landed on the object in question. Both she and Lynn frowned at the sight before them.

"Holy crap," Jayne said. "That's a dude."

"Oh my god," Lynn added, her voice going up a notch. "I really hope he's not dead."

The dude was a young man, probably still in high school. He had dark shaggy hair and he wore a flannel shirt under his brown corduroy jacket.

Jayne nudged him with her toe. "Hey," she called at him. "Dude. You all right?"

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Are you serious?" she snapped at Jayne. "That is _not_ how you wake up the unconscious."

Jayne shrugged.

Sighing, Lynn knelt down beside the pale, prostate teenager. "Hey," she hissed at him, shaking him by the shoulder. "Hey! Wake up, kid, come on!"

"Oh yeah," Jayne drawled. "That's way better."

"At least I didn't poke him with my shoe like he was road kill or something," Lynn retorted before returning the unconscious kid. "Hey! Come on, kid! I need you to wake up now!"

Slowly but surely, the boy started to come around. Blinking groggily, he frowned at the two women standing over him.

"What… what…"

"Don't ask me what happened," Jayne interrupted him. "Cause I don't know."

Lynn shot her stepsister an irritated look over her shoulder and then turned back to the teenager. "We're not going to hurt you," she assured him. "My name's Lynn. This is my stepsister Jayne. Are you all right?"

"I'm… I'm fine…" he stammered, sitting up slowly. He looked from Lynn to Jayne again. "I, uh… where's Kat?"

Jayne exchanged a look with her stepsister. "Who's Kat?" she asked the kid.

"My girlfriend," he replied. "She was here with me, I don't… I went off by myself because she was too scared and… and there was this girl…"

He swallowed hard. It looked as though he were stifling a gag.

"What girl?" Lynn asked.

"I don't know!" the kid practically shouted. "I… I think she was a ghost! I mean… her face… oh, god, it was horrible."

"Ok, kid, calm down," Jayne said.

"My name's Gavin," he returned in annoyance.

"All right, Gavin," Lynn replied. "Where did you leave your girlfriend?"

"I'm… I'm not…" he swallowed and looked around him in confusion. "I'm not really sure. I just started running and then I must have tripped and fallen down or something, I…"

"Ok," Jayne cut him off. "This girl you saw. You think she was a ghost?"

"Yeah… her face…"

"What did she try to do to you?" Jayne asked.

"She… oh god, she kissed me!"

Jayne blinked. She exchanged another look with her stepsister and saw the same dubious reaction in Lynn's face. "She kissed you?" Jayne repeated.

"Yeah! It was disgusting!"

Jayne looked at Lynn again. Her stepsister seemed equally unimpressed. "But she didn't try to hurt you?" Lynn asked.

"Are you kidding me?" Gavin retorted. "She kissed me! I'm scarred for life!"

"Right," Jayne replied. "Ok, kid. Lynn will show you the exit. I'll find your girlfriend. And both of you stay the hell out of here from now on, you hear me?"

"No," Gavin shook his head. "I can't leave without Kat."

"Oh, but you're going to."

"She's my girlfriend!"

"Jayne," Lynn said, turning large mournful eyes on her stepsister. "Maybe we could take the kid along. Help him find his girlfriend. And then take both of them out of here."

"Maybe," Jayne retorted. "Or maybe we would work a lot faster without this idiot slowing us down."

"I'm standing right here," Gavin spoke up.

Jayne smirked. "I know where you are."

Lynn sighed. "We could split up," she said. "I'll take the kid, and you can go it alone."

Pursing her lips, Jayne thought about this option for a moment. She hated it, honestly. What she wanted to do was get the civvie the hell out of here and finish her job with minimal interruptions. At the same time, she supposed it was unreasonable to think the kid would willingly leave his girlfriend.

"All right," she relented with a heavy sigh. "If you want to baby-sit, fine. He's with you. I'll keep going this way, and you take him back the way we came from."

Lynn nodded. "All right, sounds good. Come on, Gavin."

She gave the kid a shove in the right direction and the two of them disappeared around the door. Sighing, Jayne watched them go, and then continued on through the asylum.

* * *

Sam picked his way through the halls of the asylum, shining his light in all the corners and rooms he passed in search of the missing teenager.

"Gavin!" he called. "Gavin!"

There was no answer.

Sighing, Sam continued on down the hall, calling out Gavin's name every once in awhile. He was getting pretty irritated. As much as he wanted to help the two teenagers in the asylum, there was no denying the search for this Gavin kid was wasting their time. All he could do was hope that Jayne and Lynn had found some of the missing bodies.

"Gavin!" he called again.

"Sam!"

Sam froze, frowning ahead of him. He shone his flashlight down the hall, peering into the shadows at the end of the corridor. The voice was both feminine and familiar.

"Lynn?" he called.

Sure enough, about three seconds later, he came face to face with Lynn's short, black haired figure. Following close behind her was a scrawny high school boy with dark shaggy hair.

"Hey," Sam greeted them. "I see you found Gavin."

Lynn frowned over her shoulder and then returned her gaze to Sam. "Yeah, we did. I guess that means you and Dean found Kat."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "She's with Dean. They're looking for him." He nodded at Gavin.

"We're looking for Kat," Lynn returned. "Jayne went off on her own to see if she could find the girl too."

"So that means nobody's found any of the missing bodies," Sam concluded.

"Nope," Lynn said. "We're going to be here all night."

"Wait, you found Kat?" Gavin asked, pushing his way into the conversation.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Your girlfriend's fine. We'll go find her and my brother and then get the two of you out of here."

Gavin breathed a sigh of relief. "You have no idea how awesome that sounds."

Actually, Sam knew exactly how awesome that sounded. He wished he was on his way out of the asylum too, but he knew all too well that he had several more long hours ahead of him in this dank, musty place.

Already, this night felt like hell.

* * *

Dean led the way through the halls. Kat hung close behind him, calling her boyfriend's name.

He was irritated. No, that was an understatement. He was majorly pissed off. They were wasting time, looking for this kid. And he had enough to do without baby-sitting Kat as well.

Kat was still calling her boyfriend's name. Dean stopped short, turning to face her.

"I got a question for you," he said. "You seen a lot of horror movies, yeah?"

She shrugged, looking surprised at the remark. "I guess."

"Do me a favor," Dean ground out from behind clenched teeth. "Next time you go see one, pay attention. If someone says a place is haunted, don't go in."

Kat blinked, obviously hurt. Not caring, Dean turned around again and continued on down the hall.

They'd only gone a little ways before Dean felt the temperature drop a few degrees. Quickly, he drew his shotgun and handed Kat his flashlight. "Stay close," he ordered.

She nodded, gripping the flashlight. Dean held his shotgun ready to shoot and led the way around the corner.

There was a loud crash in one of the rooms down the hall. Both Kat and Dean jumped. A surprised scream echoed from down the hall – a surprised scream that did not come from Kat.

"Stay here," Dean snapped at Kat. He ran off towards the sound of the noise, certain the scream was either Jayne or her stepsister.

There was a loud shotgun blast from inside the room. Kat shrieked from her place down the hall. Dean kicked in the door and raced inside, just in time to see the swirling, fading smoke of an angry spirit on the receiving end of a rock salt filled shotgun shell.

He spun, looking for the source of the blast. Standing at the other end of the room, panting hard, was a tall blonde girl, expertly holding a shotgun in her hands.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded.

Still panting, Jayne turned away from where the spirit had just dissipated, and looked Dean in the eye. Instantly, her face hardened.

"Dean," she practically spat. "How excellent to see you."

"Oh my god," Kat's voice sounded from the door.

Dean glared at the teenage girl over his shoulder. "Didn't I tell you to stay put?" he asked her in annoyance.

"Are you Kat?" Jayne asked the high school student.

She nodded her shiny blonde head. "Uh-huh. How did you…?"

"I'm Jayne," she interrupted. "My stepsister and I found your boyfriend. He's with her, looking for you."

"Great," Dean snapped. "Where are they?"

Jayne shrugged. "We split up."

"You split up?!" Dean exclaimed angrily.

Jayne stared at him like he was some sort of moron. "Yeah. Why?"

"Are you freaking kidding me?" he snapped. "Pissed off spirits of psycho killers? Ring any bells?"

Jayne shrugged again. "You and Sam split up."

"That's not the same thing!"

"Sure it is."

"No it's… you just… I swear, woman, I could…"

"You know what, Dean?" Jayne hollered at him, cutting off his stuttering. "I am so not in the mood for your sexist bullshit! I can take care of myself, damn it! No one asked you to swoop in and play hero!"

"Are you still on about me fixing Janis?" Dean hollered back. "I was helping you out, you freak!"

"Yeah!" Jayne shouted. "Yeah, maybe you were! Maybe _that _time you were just being a good friend! Maybe! But right now, you're just being a prig!"

"You guys?" Kat stammered from the doorway. "Um… maybe yelling in the haunted asylum isn't really the best idea."

Both hunters blinked at the teenager. Dean tilted his head to the side, acknowledging the well made point.

"Who asked you?" Jayne retorted.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on," he ordered gruffly, grabbing Jayne's arm. "Let's just go find Lynn and Sam."

Jayne wrenched her arm out his grip. "You don't have to touch me," she barked.

Dean glared at her for a mere moment before throwing his hands in the air and giving up. "Fine!" he exploded. "And if another crazy psycho killer comes after you, I'll just stand there and watch!"

"Sounds like a good idea to me!"

"Um…" Kat murmured uncertainly.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean snapped, turning away from Jayne and marching towards the door. "We're coming, and we're being quiet."

* * *


	30. Lay It on the Line

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Thanks to Lov3good, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, kazza03, legrowl, Padme4000, impalame, angeleyenc, Nelle07, deansbabygirl934, tbelle1234, ThreeMoons, martine, and thsltlpiggy for the awesome reviews!

* * *

Chapter 30: Lay It on the Line

Jayne followed along behind Dean and Kat, glowering at the back of Dean's head with murderous intent. He was a moron. A chauvinist. A loud mouthed obnoxious truck fixer. She might kill him.

Was it ridiculous to hate a man for fixing her truck? Maybe. All right, completely. She was crazy; this she granted. But if he only hadn't been so insufferable about the whole thing! He didn't have to lord it over her and smirk his annoying little smirk, and he definitely didn't have to treat her like a girl.

And he was treating her like a girl. He was treating her like she was this Kat kid. Like she was some sort of inexperienced stupid civilian who couldn't wield her shotgun correctly and didn't know shit about ghosts. She'd been hunting every bit as long as he had. She didn't need his concern.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at her. "Do you have to be back there?" he snapped.

She glowered deeper. "Yes."

He turned back around, muttering angrily under his breath. Jayne contemplated kicking him in the shin.

They pressed on through the asylum, searching for Sam, Lynn and Gavin. Part of Jayne was ready to ditch Dean and Kat and take off on a search for the lost bodies. The hours were passing by, bringing them closer and closer to dawn. She supposed they could still search once the sun came up, but they were more likely to be caught in the light of day.

Her flashlight began to flicker, the light slowly dying. Cursing, Jayne shook it and gave it a vicious love tap. It died anyway, and Jayne swore.

"Damn it," she muttered. "Just great. Because my night doesn't already suck enough ass."

"What are you muttering about back there, Goldilocks?" Dean asked.

She glared at him, but the effect was lost since he wouldn't turn around. "My light's dead," she snapped.

He snickered. "Ooh, did Goldie forget to check her batteries before the hunt? Sounds like a pretty amateur move to me. Think after all those years of experience you keep going on about, you'd know better than that."

"Go fuck yourself, jackass," Jayne bit out.

Dean half turned his head, looking ready to make a returning quip, but was interrupted by his light flickering as well. He frowned, smacking it.

The light went out anyway. "Damn it," he muttered.

"You were saying?" Jayne sneered.

Dean glared at her as he started digging through his coat pockets. "Don't worry," he said to Kat. "I have a lighter."

Withdrawing the aforementioned object, Dean snapped the switch and the lighter flared up.

Jayne began digging through her own coat as well, certain she had a lighter of her own. It had been in there the last time she'd hit the bars, that one night when she'd been bummed about her brother and was ready to burn her way through a pack of Marlboros.

But the lighter was gone. "Shit," she whispered, remembering her stepsister smoking the night before. Lynn had snatched the lighter.

"Ow," Kat whispered. "You're hurting my arm."

Jayne snorted. "Typical."

She looked in Dean's direction. He wasn't touching the high-schooler. "What are you talking about?" he asked, giving the girl an odd look over his shoulder.

They saw it at the same time, by the glow from Dean's lighter. A large, hairy, dirty hand, clamped down on Kat's arm.

She shrieked. The hand pulled. Jayne sprinted forward, Dean on her heels. Kat vanished inside a small room off the hall, and the door slammed behind her.

Dean grabbed the door handle and pulled, but the door stuck fast. Jayne joined him, but even between the two of them they couldn't force the door open. Dean shoved her roughly aside and then took a step back. He kicked the door twice, harder with each hit of his boot. Nothing worked.

"Kat!" he thundered. "Kat!"

The door was shaking with the teenage girl's pounding from within. "Let me out!" she was screeching. "Please!"

"We'll get you out!" Dean shouted back at her, yanking on the door handle again. He propped his foot against the wall for better leverage, using his full weight to pull.

Jayne dropped her bag on the ground with a loud clank, and unzipped with a hard tug. As Dean continued trying to pull and kick the door open, she dug a long metal crowbar out of the various other demon-hunting crap packed inside and leapt to her feet.

She slammed into Dean, knocking him to the side. Then she smashed the sharp end of the crowbar in between the door and the wall and tried to pry it open.

Nothing worked. She hauled off and smashed the crowbar into the door again, and again, and tried to force the door once again. Still nothing.

Dean snatched the crowbar from her hands. "Move!" he ordered, shoving her aside. He smashed the crowbar into the door just as she had moments before, over and over, trying desperately to pry the door open.

Jayne simmered. "You bastard!" she shouted.

He glared at her, taking a moment's pause. "Really?" he exploded. "Now? This seems like a good time?"

And as furious as she was with him, and as certain as she was that she had the right to be, Jayne had to concede to his well made point: girl locked in a room with a crazy ghost equals a bad time to argue gender studies.

"Fine!" she snapped. "Go ahead!"

Dean went right back to smashing the crowbar against the door, penetrating the crack between the wall and the door, and trying to force his way into the room. The door stuck fast.

Jayne swallowed the urge to laugh at Dean and make a snide comment about the very little good his masculine strength seemed to be doing them at the moment. She settled instead for, "You know once we get the girl out, I'm going to kick your ass, right?"

"Looking forward to it," he retorted, and smashed the crowbar into the crack once again.

* * *

Sam took the lead, his flashlight lighting up the hall before the small party as they retraced his steps back to where he'd left Dean and Kat.

"We need to get you and your girlfriend out of here," he heard Lynn saying as they made their way through the halls. "There's no telling what might be roaming around in this place."

"Yeah," Gavin agreed, his voice a notch too high. It gave him a hysterical sound. "Like horny ghost girls with jacked up faces."

Lynn made a strange noise in the back of her throat, and Sam could tell she was pissed. "Right," she said tightly. "Like that."

"That was quite possibly the single most horrifying experience of my life."

Lynn made that funny noise again. "Wish I could say the same."

"I mean… ew! She freaking kissed me!"

"Trust me," Lynn growled. "Really could have been worse."

Gavin scoffed. "How?"

"Oh, I don't know," Lynn snapped. "She could have _killed _you!"

"Wait," Sam said, stopping and turning around. "You saw a ghost?"

Gavin nodded. "It was disgusting."

"And she kissed you?" Sam asked.

Gavin nodded again.

"But she didn't try to hurt you?"

The high school kid shook his head.

Sam glanced at Lynn, who shrugged and rolled her eyes. "I know," she told him. "Kids, right? As if that was so bad."

"I saw a ghost earlier too," Sam announced. "Same thing – well, not the kissing part. She looked like she wanted to tell me something."

Lynn frowned at him. "Like what?"

Sam ignored her and turned to Gavin again. "This girl. Did she try to tell you anything?"

Gavin shrugged, screwing up his face. "Well… she did kind of try to whisper something in my ear…"

"What?" Sam demanded.

The kid looked at him like he was nuts. "I don't know. I ran like hell."

Sam turned to Lynn in excitement. "These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us!" he exclaimed. "At least, not the ones we've been seeing. Something else is going on, something else is in here… something besides the patients."

"Like what?" Lynn asked again. "I mean, are you saying these crazy ghosts are trying to warn us about something?"

"Yeah," Sam replied, nodding. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

Lynn sighed, chewing her lip. "I don't know, Sam…"

"What do you mean, you don't know?" he practically pounced on her, desperate for confirmation. "You believed me in Lawrence, even when Dean and Jayne and Missouri thought the poltergeist was gone! You believed me about my dreams! Why won't you believe me now?"

"I didn't say I didn't believe you!" Lynn defended herself. "I'm sure you have a good theory, I'm just not so sure if it makes sense. I mean, the patients are the ones who rioted. They were the ones with the motive, the ones most likely to be angry…"

Sam interrupted her with a loud, harsh sigh. "Well, I don't know, ok? We just have to find out more about this place! More about the riot, maybe!"

He searched her eyes, seeking for reassurance, for faith. He got reluctance.

"Let's just find the others," Lynn said. "We'll work out this theory once we're all back together. All right?

Sam's lip curled with bitter disappointment. "Fine."

Lynn turned, stealing his lead, and guided the two men down the corridor.

"Dude," Gavin said. "Can you say whipped?"

Sam looked over his shoulder at the kid, eyes narrowed in annoyance. He opened his mouth to speak.

That's when they heard the screams.

* * *

Dean pried and pried at the door with Jayne's crowbar, but nothing happened. The door wouldn't budge. There was no forcing it.

Kat was still screaming, begging to be let out, pounding on the door. Jayne was shouting reassurances through the wall as Dean strained at the crowbar, grunting with the effort.

Running feet pounded closer to them from down the hall. "What's going on?" he heard Lynn ask as she led his brother and a teenage boy towards the scene.

"One of them dragged the girl in there!" Jayne replied.

"Kat!" the kid with Lynn and Sam shouted.

Kat screamed from inside. "Help! Get me out of here!"

"We're trying!" Jayne shouted back.

"Kat!" Sam bellowed, shoving Dean out of the way. Dean glared at his little brother. "It's not going to hurt you! Listen to me! You have to face it! You have to calm down!"

"She has to what?" Dean exclaimed.

"I have to what?" Kat shouted from inside the room.

"These spirits, they're not trying to hurt us, they're trying to communicate!" Sam explained. "You have to look at it, you have to face it!"

"You face it!" Kat retorted.

Dean glanced at his brother, waiting his response. The girl had a point.

"No, it's the only way you're going to get out of there!" Sam called back.

"No!"

"Look at it, that's all! Come on, you can do it!"

Dean cringed. There was silence.

"Kat?" Gavin asked uncertainly.

"I hope you're right about this," Dean told his brother.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, and Dean considered hitting him. "Me too."

Dean tapped his foot impatiently, staring at the closed door. Still, there wasn't a noise. He glanced at Jayne, who was shaking her head, her arms crossed over her chest. Her tongue was in her cheek, and she looked pissed.

As annoying as she was being lately, Dean couldn't help being able to relate.

Just as he was about to really panic, there was a click, and then the squeal of rusted hinges. The heavy door swung slowly open, and Kat appeared on the other side of the threshold.

"Kat," Gavin exclaimed in a whisper, stepping forward and drawing his girlfriend into his arms.

Jayne sprang into the room, miraculously relit flashlight in her hands. Dean cussed and raced after her, ready to drag her out by her hair.

The other hunter shone the light in all the corners of the room. Dean stood behind her, antsy about his shotgun and way too close to her shoulder.

"Nothing," Jayne said. Then she elbowed him in the chest.

Dean grunted in pain, doubling over. "You bitch," he snarled.

"137."

Dean spun around at Kat's sudden voice. Jayne followed him out of the room, appearing equally curious. Sam and Lynn frowned at the teenager as well.

"Sorry?" Dean asked.

"It whispered in my ear," Kat clarified. "137."

"Room number."

All four hunters spoke in near unison. Foreheads crumpled with shock, they stared at one another dubiously.

"Ok," Gavin said. "That was way creepy."

"Agreed," Lynn replied.

Dean knelt beside his duffel, intent on repacking. Jayne did the same, snatching the forgotten crowbar from the ground and stuffing it in her bag. Sam and Lynn joined them.

"If these spirit's aren't hurting anyone…" Sam began.

"Then what are they trying to do?" Dean finished.

"Maybe that's what they're trying to tell us," Sam replied.

Dean nodded, standing up. The four hunters looked at the two teenagers.

"All right," Dean asked. "You two ready to get out of here?"

"That's an understatement," Kat attempted to joke, despite her shaky voice.

Dean nodded again. "Lynn and Jayne will show you out," he told her. "Sam and I are going to try and find that room."

"Excuse me?" Jayne snapped.

Dean sighed harshly, rolling his eyes. "What now?"

"Oh, I don't know, Stanley," Jayne retorted angrily. "Maybe I see a problem with your little plan? Maybe it's a prime example of survivalist sexism!"

"Well, of course you see a problem with my plan, you crazy femi-nazi!" Dean shouted.

"Whoa," Lynn spoke up, stepping between the two of them. "Hey. As much as I'd like to agree that my stepsister is psychotic, maybe she has a point. I mean, you did just assign the least dangerous task to the two women hunters and kept the more dangerous job for you and your brother."

"So?" Dean retorted.

He knew he'd made a mistake by the way her eyes flashed and her lips pursed. Inwardly he cussed. If Lynn was going to be pissed too…

"So you're a sexist bastard," she snapped. "I mean, a semi-sweet sexist bastard, but a sexist bastard all the same."

Dean stared incredulously at the shorter of the two stepsisters for a moment, and then turned to Sam in a fury, throwing his hands in the air. "Do you see this?" he exploded. "Why are they ganging up on me?"

Sam squinted in a rather meek way, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. "Well, I don't know, Dean. Maybe they have a point?"

Dean glared at him. Sam shrugged, trying to smile.

"Fine," Dean snapped, leveling his glare at Jayne and Lynn. "Got a solution, ladies?"

"Rock, paper, scissors," Lynn replied immediately.

Everyone stared at her.

"What?" she asked defensively. "Rock, paper, scissors solves everything."

"Whatever," Dean grumbled. "Loser takes the civs out, winner gets room 137. Takers?"

Lynn turned to Jayne. Sam stepped up and took on his brother.

Dean and Sam pounded their fists into their hands three times and then drew their weapons. Sam's rock came smashing down hard on top of Dean's scissors.

"Ooh, Dean, always with the scissors," Sam taunted him.

"Shut up," Dean snapped. "Two out of three?"

"Not a chance."

"Come on, man…"

He was interrupted by a victorious shout from Lynn and an irritated grunt from Jayne.

"Ha!" Lynn crowed. "I win! In your face! Who's your mama?"

Jayne stared at her stepsister. "It's rock, paper, scissors Lynn."

"All right," Sam announced. "Looks like Jayne and Dean are taking Kat and Gavin out of here, and Lynn and I are looking for room 137."

"Um," Kat spoke up anxiously. "I, uh… don't want to mess up your game, but… can Lynn and Sam take us? I just… they…" she gestured at Dean and Jayne. "They… don't work very well together, and… I don't want to die."

Sam laughed.

Dean glared.

"Fine," Jayne said.

Dean raised an eyebrow at her.

"Lame," Lynn whined.

"It's what you get for being so responsible," Jayne replied.

Lynn glared at her stepsister. "Whatever. Sam?"

"Yeah, all right," he agreed.

This time Dean laughed, suddenly realizing his triumph. "Ha! Always knew scissors would come through one day."

"Shut up," Sam said.

"I'm going to go find room 137," Dean announced, turning to walk down the hall. "Come on, Goldilocks."

Jayne punched him in the side.

"Ow!"

* * *

"So, how do you guys know about all this ghost stuff?"

Sam looked up, startled by the question. They'd been walking down the hall in silence – him, Lynn, Gavin and Kat – for a long time by then, just following the beams of Sam and Lynn's flashlights.

It was Kat who had spoken. Sam shrugged. "It's kind of our job."

"Why would anyone want a job like that?"

Sam chuckled slightly. "I had a crappy guidance counselor."

Lynn glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Sam glanced at her in the same manner and barely kept from cringing at the look she was giving him. God, why did it always have to be this way with her?

"And Dean?" Kat asked. "He's your boss?"

Something deep inside Sam snapped. He looked at the girl, visibly irritated, and shook his head. "No."

Kat nodded. "Oh."

There was a pause. "Sorry," she added. "He just seemed like…"

"Well, he's not."

They fell into another silence. "You know, this really isn't such a bad job," Lynn suddenly announced.

Sam looked at her.

"I mean, it's exciting," she said. "We get to be our own bosses. It's better than sitting on my ass in an office."

She sounded genuinely offended. Sam winced.

"I didn't mean…" Kat began, but Lynn interrupted.

"Maybe it looks hard," she carried on. "Or scary. But you get used to it. I mean, what you saw in here? Practically nothing."

"It didn't feel like nothing," Kat murmured.

"Well, that's because you're not used to it. But I actually like hunting ghosts. Maybe Sam doesn't…"

Sam winced.

"But personally, I don't have a problem with it. Can't figure out why he does."

There was a long awkward pause.

"You know," Lynn spoke again. "We do have other things to do tonight, so… let's pick up the pace. Ok?"

She walked briskly on ahead of them, putting several feet between herself and the group. Sam shook his head, staring after in with a mixture of amazement and annoyance.

"Bitch," he whispered, without premeditation.

Behind him, Gavin made a whipping motion with his hand. "W'choo!"

Sam glared at the teenager over his shoulder. "I am not whipped."

"Totally whipped," Gavin replied.

"We're not even dating," Sam informed him.

"Really?" Kat asked.

Sam stared at her a moment. "Really," he said.

"That's even worse," Gavin announced.

"Shut up, Gavin," Kat snapped.

And instantly, Gavin shut up. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Fighting a smirk, Sam hastened to close the distance between him and Lynn. Despite the young boy's humorous reaction his girlfriend's admonishment, however, Sam couldn't help but be irritated. More than irritated, really. Frustrated, angry, possibly a little confused…

He really needed to stop calling Lynn. It only gave him headaches.

* * *

"Stay close!"

"Why?"

"Why? Because there are pissed off spirits of crazy people in here!"

"So? What are they going to do, talk at me to death?"

"You know, Jayne, I've had it up to here with your crazy feminist theory bull shit!"

"And I've had it up to here with your ignorant, backward, chauvinist attitude! Prig!"

"I swear, woman…."

"What? What are you going to do, Dean? Tell me; terrify me."

"Bite me, Goldie."

"That the best you got? I'm quaking in my boots here."

Dean stopped and glared at her. Jayne brushed past him, stalking on down the hall.

"Hey!" he called after her. "Wait a second."

She stopped, which was better than he expected. "What?' she practically snarled.

He shrugged, glancing at the wall. "Look, maybe we need to talk about this."

Jayne stared at him. Dean fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Who are you?" Jayne asked him. "And what did you do with Dean?"

He glared at her again. "Shut up."

"No, really," she pressed on. "One of the serial killer ghosts mess with your head? Turn you into a nut job? What's the deal?"

"I'm just sick of fighting!" he snapped.

Jayne faltered. He saw it. Her glare faded away and she stared at him, surprised.

"I'm sick of fighting," Dean repeated himself. "I don't really know what I did wrong…"

Jayne opened her mouth, the glare back on her face, looking more than ready to tell him exactly what he did wrong. Dean rushed to finish before she could utter a sound.

"But I'm tired," he said. "I'm hungry. And I'm kind of cold."

Her mouth closed back up.

"And I really don't have the energy to keep yelling at you," he finished. "So can we just call it water under the bridge and be friends again?"

There was a long silence as Jayne stared at him, standing five steps away in the dark hallway. Dean stared back at her, forcing himself to maintain eye contact.

Then she took a deep, shaky breath, and lowered her eyes to the floor. Dean watched her expectantly.

"Dean," she said, half choking on the name. Dean raised his eyebrow. Jayne took a deep breath and trained her eyes on the ceiling.

"Look, I…" she sighed. "I think maybe I was unfair to you."

Dean fought the smirk threatening to form on his face. "Really."

"Really," she snapped, fixing him with a glare. Dean sobered, and she dropped her eyes again. "Look, I know you were… I know you were just… the thing with my truck… you wanted to help me, and I know… I know you didn't mean anything wrong by it, and… and I just…"

"It's cool," Dean interrupted. "Don't have an aneurysm."

Jayne sighed again. "I guess I'm trying to say sorry."

He nodded. "Ok. You're forgiven."

There was a long pause.

"You know, you could apologize too!" Jayne suddenly exploded.

"Me?" Dean asked incredulously. "What did I do?"

"You were a prig!" she shouted.

"When?"

"This whole damn hunt!"

"No I wasn't!"

"You were too!"

"How?"

"How? You've been infantilizing and belittling and damsel-in-distressing me all night!"

Dean blinked. "Damsel-in-distressing you?"

Jayne let loose a loud, aggravated sigh. "Look, the thing with the truck – I overreacted. Ok? I admit it. But tonight? All this stay close, don't go off alone, chaperone the civvies while I do the man's work bull crap? I've been doing this job every bit as long as you have!"

Dean fidgeted. "I know. I just…"

"You just what?" Jayne demanded. "Forgot? Forgot that I was a hunter? That I could handle a gun and I could track a ghost and, quite frankly, read Latin a whole hell of a lot better than you can?"

Dean glared at her. Jayne made no apologies.

"Don't even pretend to be offended," she said. "It's useless. I'm better at Latin than you. So are most high school freshmen. Besides, that's not the point. The point is that I can do this job and you know it. So why are you treating me like a civilian?"

There was a long silence. Jayne spent it with her arms folded over her chest, staring at him expectantly. Dean spent it fidgeting around and scratching the back of his head, staring anywhere that wasn't her.

Finally, he sighed and spoke. "I don't know."

Jayne frowned. "You don't know?"

"I don't know," Dean shrugged. "Maybe I was mad about the truck thing, and I knew acting this way would piss you off, maybe I was genuinely concerned about you… I literally have no idea."

Jayne stared at him for a while.

"I'm sorry, all right?" he snapped.

She stared at him a little longer. "All right," she said finally.

Dean blinked. "All right?" he repeated.

"All right," she confirmed. "Just stop doing it, and we're cool."

It was Dean's turn to stare at her. "Good," he said after a while. "Ok."

She turned to the side and nodded at a door a few steps away. "I think 137 is right there," she announced.

Dean nodded too. "Lead the way."

She did. Dean followed Jayne to the door in question, and sure enough he saw 137 printed on the white wooden surface.

Jayne turned the knob and pushed the door in with a little strain. Dean heard the scrape of furniture on the other side as it was knocked out of the way. She let him go inside first, and then followed behind him, shining her flashlight in the places his light wasn't illuminating.

Her light fell on an open filing cabinet. She made her way across to it and began flipping through the files. Every once in a while, she'd pull one out and open it, reading through the contents.

Dean shook his head, glad she was doing the boring job, and began circling the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The room was dirty, the walls coated in grime, and the furniture was broken and flipped over, but nothing in the room seemed any different than any other spot in the asylum.

"I think this was Ellicott's office," Jayne called to him in a whisper. "These are patient files. His signature is on every one."

"Makes sense," Dean replied softly. "I guess."

He heard papers rustling from Jayne's side of the room as she continued poking through the file cabinet. Dean knelt down by the opposite wall, picking through a pile of papers and drywall for something incriminating.

Nothing seemed important – until he noticed the wall itself. One of the panels was jutting out slightly from the rest of them, and there was a small niche in the side of the panel, big enough for a couple fingers to fit through.

Dean cautiously poked his fingers into the hole and pulled on the panel. It creaked open like a small door would. He glanced over at Jayne and saw that the creak had caught her attention. She'd looked up from her files and was staring at him with interest.

He beckoned to her and she picked her way across the room, finally reaching the open panel and kneeling beside him. Dean shone his flashlight inside the wall. The only thing inside was an old, beaten, brown leather satchel. Dean reached for it, yanking it out of the recess, and then slammed it down on the ground before the two of them.

"This is why I get paid the big bucks," he cackled.

Jayne snorted, sliding the case towards her and unbuckling the straps. "I wasn't aware you got paid anything."

He slapped her playfully on the arm. "Shut it, Goldilocks."

She opened the satchel, revealing it to be a large journal. Dean bent closer to her, holding his flashlight over the first page.

"Patient's journal," Dean read out loud.

"That was good, Dean," Jayne remarked dryly. "You didn't even have to sound it out."

Dean ignored her and reached out to turn the page. Jayne let out a low whistle as Dean flipped through page after page of text and diagrams.

"All work and no play makes Dr. Ellicott a _very_ dull boy," Dean joked.

"I see that," she agreed.

They settled into the dark dilapidated office, sitting maybe just a little too close, and read Dr. Ellicott's patient's journal by flashlight. Soon, they were lost in the text.

* * *

Lynn was still several steps ahead of Sam and their two babysitting charges when she finally reached the exit. The other three were lagging sorely behind her and she was certain they were doing it on purpose.

She marched straight to the door and yanked it open… or rather, tried to yank it open. The door was unyielding to her pulls.

Her hand slipped from the handle and she stared at the door, feeling a small bubble of panic swelling inside her. Quickly, she turned and ran to the other door at the end of the hall and pulled on that too.

The second door was as unyielding as the first.

"Damn it," she swore, staring at the doors with a turning, foreboding feeling in her stomach. Suddenly, she was quite ill.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, finally reaching her side.

"I think we're in trouble," she replied.

It was abysmally unfair. She had been so ready to leave, to feel the fresh air on her face… to deposit the two high school brats on the side of the street and march off to finish the damn job.

Sam tried to open the two doors. He failed as much as she had.

He glanced at her, panic clear in his dark blue eyes. Lynn shrugged, and blew a strand of hair out of her face.

"Told you," was all she said.

Sam yanked on the doors again, pounding on the windows around them. Nothing gave way.

He whirled, facing the two civilians in their company. "I think we have a serious problem," he announced.

"What do you mean?" Gavin demanded. Lynn resisted the urge to punch him in the face. "Break it down!"

She snorted. This kid was really grating on her nerves. "Yeah," she snapped. "Break it down. That'll work. This isn't just some stuck door, kiddo. This is supernatural lockdown."

Gavin looked desperate. "A window!"

Lynn was ready to _really_ tell Gavin off, but his girlfriend chastised him in her stead. "They're barred," Kat said. Her tone and expression both implied 'duh.'

"Then how are we supposed to get out of here?" Gavin demanded.

"That's the point," Sam said, and Lynn couldn't help getting twice as annoyed at the kid. He really needed Sam to spell out the situation for him? "We're not. There's something in here that doesn't want us to leave."

"Those patients," Kat murmured.

"No," Sam shook his head. "Something else."

"Great," Lynn spat, rolling her eyes. "Looks like we're stuck babysitting."

Kat and Gavin glared at her. Lynn didn't care in the slightest. Sam sighed heavily.

"I'll go look around really quick," he announced. "Search for another exit, make sure nothing's lurking around us. Lynn will stay here and watch out for you guys, ok?"

"I'm going to do what?" Lynn asked incredulously.

"Why can't she go look and you stay here?" Kat practically begged.

Lynn glared at the other girl.

"Everything will be fine," Sam replied. "I promise."

Then he turned and bolted.

"Sam!" Lynn shouted after him. "Sam! Wait! Why do I… why are you… oh, am I so pissed off right now!"

She stood by the doors that wouldn't open, tapping her foot impatiently. She crossed her arms petulantly over her chest and glared at the spot where Sam had been standing mere seconds before.

Kat and Gavin exchanged glances, and pointedly avoided Lynn's gaze. She was more than fine with that.

The minutes ticked by in silence. Lynn fumed, leaning against the wall. She was starting to understand Jayne's earlier frustrations. They were old fashioned men, these Winchesters. They didn't exactly dislike strong women, but they didn't give strong women their due credit either. She was infuriated that she was stuck babysitting while Sam got to go gallivanting off who knows where in the dark.

And if she was being really honest with herself? She knew relations with Sam had been strained lately. She knew things had been awkward. Sam had been distant, aloof… until he was desperate, needy.

And she had just been a bitch.

So she knew he was running off to secure their perimeter because he wanted to get away from her. And it hurt.

There were footsteps from around the corner. Lynn pulled her shotgun from her bag, and stepped in front of the two teenagers. "Get behind me," she ordered, aiming down the hall.

Kay and Gavin didn't argue. They backed up and cowered behind her.

The figure that came quite suddenly around the corner turned out to be Sam. Lynn sighed in relief, and lowered the shotgun. "See anything?" she asked.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing. And no," he went on, seeing the question on Gavin's face. "There's no other way out of here."

"What are we going to do?" Gavin asked, sounding hysterical.

"I'll tell you what we're not going to do," Sam replied. "We're not going to panic."

"Why the hell not?"

Lynn glared at the back of the boy's head. Sam's cell phone went off and he dug it out of his pants pocket, answering it immediately.

"Yeah?"

She couldn't hear a word of the conversation on the other end, but she knew it had to be bad news from the panicked look on Sam's face.

"Where are you?" he demanded.

There was a pause as Sam listened to the voice on the other end. "Ok, hold on, I'm on my way."

Sam hung up, shoving the phone back in his pants. "That was Dean," he announced, looking straight at Lynn. "He's in some kind of trouble."

"What?" Lynn exclaimed. "What's going on? What…?"

"I don't know," Sam said, shaking his head. "But he needs my help."

"What about Jayne?"

Sam shook his head again. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Lynn asked incredulously.

"Look, I'm going to go help them," he said. "They're in the basement. Stay here and watch these two."

"What? No!"

"Please, Lynn!"

And then he was off and running. Lynn had no time to argue or yell or agree. Sam disappeared around the corner and down the hall, leaving Lynn to watch over Kat and Gavin.

She glared at them. They quailed under her dark look.

"Sorry?" Kat offered.

Lynn cocked her shot gun. "No talking."

* * *

They were too close.

Jayne knew they were too close. Her shoulder was against Dean's bicep. His arm was planted behind her back, holding him in his half sitting, half leaning position. Warmth radiated off his body and she reaped the benefits of his heat by their near proximity.

He was leaning over the notebook she had balanced in her lap, holding the flashlight they were reading by. His face was too close to her neck.

"You done?" she asked, trying to ignore it all. "Can I turn the page?"

"Yeah," he replied. His breath tickled the skin on her neck. "Go ahead."

She turned the page. Dean chuckled, again tickling her skin. Jayne swallowed. They were too close.

He was so annoying most of the time. So infuriating and sexist and even just plain dumb. He made her want to throw things and spit in his eye.

And other times, he was funny. More than funny; legitimately fun. Easy to talk to, relatable… he'd understand what she was trying to say, what she was feeling. He could even be comforting.

And right now, he was too close. Jayne couldn't look at him, knowing if she turned her head her face would wind up inches from his gorgeous green eyes and his pouty lips.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She couldn't think like that. More importantly, she didn't want to think like that.

He was sitting too close.

"This is some crazy shit," Dean announced.

Jayne looked down at the journal in her lap. "Yeah," she agreed, forcing herself to focus on the job at hand. "Crazy shit. Talk about the blind leading the blind."

"Or the crazy treating the crazy," Dean said.

Jayne nodded, smiling slightly. "This explains a lot."

"I guess we better go find the other two," Dean murmured.

Suddenly, Jayne shivered. A chill traveled through the air. There was a strange, unexpected sound from behind them, and Jayne whirled around to find out what was attacking them.

Dean whirled too, moving closer to her. Both of them eyed the doorway, but saw nothing.

"That was weird," she said.

Dean nodded. "Let's go."

Jayne folded up the journal and Dean took it, tucking it under his arm. The two of them clambered onto their feet and collected their belongings. After one final look around the room to ensure they were still alone, the two of them made their way out the door.

They crept cautiously down the hall, expecting any moment for something ghostly to pop out at them. Nothing did.

There was no sign of either Lynn or Sam. They'd nearly reached the South Wing exit by this point, and Jayne was starting to worry. From the way Dean worked his lower lip with his teeth, she suspected he was having concerns of his own.

They rounded the corner, headed for the door. The loud clicking sound of a cocked shotgun rang out into the quiet hall. Both Dean and Jayne froze.

Lynn stood at the opposite end of the hall, by the exit, pointing her shotgun at them. Behind her were Kat and Gavin.

Dean's hands went up. "Whoa, crazy," he joked. "It's just us."

Lynn breathed a sigh of a relief, lowering her weapon. "Good." Then she frowned. "Where's Sam?"

"Isn't he with you?" Dean asked, frowning too.

Lynn shook her head. "He said he went to go find you guys."

"Well, he didn't," Jayne replied.

"Why was he looking for us?" Dean put in.

"Better question," Jayne said before Lynn could answer. "What are _they_ still doing here?"

She gestured at Kat and Gavin. Lynn glanced over her shoulder at the two teenagers and heaved a heavy sigh.

"The ghosts won't let us leave," she announced, tilting her head to the side in an annoyed and rather glum fashion.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Well that's fantastic."

"Back to Sam," Dean cut in, sounding as though he was getting irritated. "Where is he?"

"He went to go find you," Lynn repeated. "He said you called him."

Jayne raised an eyebrow and looked at Dean. Dean frowned at her, and then turned to Lynn. "I didn't call him."

Lynn's irritated expression faded away and was replaced with concern. "You didn't?"

"No," Dean said, shaking his head slowly. He looked at Jayne again. "Ellicott?"

Jayne shrugged. "Sounds about right."

"Where did he say he was going?" Dean asked Lynn.

"The basement… what about Ellicott?"

Dean addressed Jayne again. "The secret room."

Jayne nodded. "Ellicott's going after Sam."

"I told him to watch out," Dean spat. "That psychic stuff is like a magnet for ghosts!"

"What's going on?" Lynn demanded.

Jayne looked at her stepsister. "Dr. Ellicott had this whole intense rage therapy thing going on," she explained. "He was trying to cure his patients by getting them to express their rage, but it just made them worse and worse."

"Sick stuff," Dean added. "You think electro-shock therapy is bad…"

"So the patients rioted," Jayne picked up the story. "And now we think Ellicott is haunting this place. He's the one making people crazy, not the patients."

Lynn frowned. "Whoa… did you two work together?"

Jayne glanced at Dean. "Clearly," she replied.

Lynn continued to frown. "So… you're not arguing anymore?"

Jayne glanced at Dean again.

"No," Dean said.

Lynn whistled. "Weird."

Jayne rolled her eyes. "We better get Sam," she announced.

Dean nodded. "All right. Let's go." He looked back at Lynn. "Stay here and watch them."

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Lynn exclaimed.

"Come on," Dean said, taking Jayne by the arm and dragging her around the corner.

"Hey!" Lynn called after them. "HEY!"

But neither Jayne nor Dean heeded her calls. Ignoring her angry shouting, they ran off towards the basement, intent on saving Sam.

Back by the South Wing exit, Lynn stood stock still, clutching her shotgun and glaring at the spot where her stepsister and Dean had been mere seconds earlier.

She chewed on her tongue, infuriated. Kat and Gavin eyed her warily.

After a minute or two, Lynn exploded.

"Fuck this bullshit!"

Kat and Gavin winced.

She rounded on them. "Can either of you handle a shotgun?"

Gavin laughed mirthlessly. "No!"

"I can," Kat said evenly.

Both Lynn and Gavin stared at her.

"What?" she asked defensively. "My Dad took me skeet shooting a couple of times."

Lynn smirked slightly. "My kind of woman."

Kat fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Here," Lynn said, handing her the shotgun. "I'm going after them. Shoot anything that moves."

Kat nodded.

Lynn turned away and ran off in the direction Dean and Jayne had gone.

As she ran, she heard the cock of the shotgun echo behind her.

* * *

"Sam!"

The shout echoed off the dirty basement walls. Dean cursed inwardly when no one answered the call.

"Sammy!" he hollered into the dark, shining his light in all the conceivable corners.

Nothing.

"Damn it," he hissed.

"He's got to be down here," Jayne reassured him.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Yeah," he agreed. "But what condition is he in?"

Jayne just looked at him. "Ellicott hasn't killed anyone yet," she reminded him. "At least not directly. If we're too late, well… then Sam is crazy. That doesn't mean he's dead."

"Thank you," Dean returned sarcastically. "That's very comforting."

He turned away from her again. "Sammy!" he shouted as he rounded the corner.

A dark figure appeared on the other side. Dean jumped about ten feet in the air, hollering in surprise. He accidentally knocked Jayne into the wall, and then proceeded to pin her there with his arm.

The pinning was on purpose.

Dean's light shone directly in the newcomer's eyes. It was Sam.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he dropped the arm holding back Jayne, and verbally assaulted his brother.

"Damn it! Answer me when I'm calling you!"

Jayne nudged him violently. He frowned at her, and she glared at him. "Please don't pin me to walls," she snapped.

Oh, right. He'd accidentally done that thing again that she didn't like; he'd attempted to protect her. Why she didn't like it was beyond him… well, all right. Maybe not beyond him. He supposed he could understand her aversion. Still, it wasn't like he was calling her fat and poking her in the eye.

Still, his unconscious protection of Jayne did provoke a very troubling question: Why the hell was he doing it?

"Sorry, guys," Sam said.

"You all right?" Dean demanded.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good. You know it wasn't me that called you, right?"

"Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here."

"Well, I think Jayne and I figured out what it is," Dean replied. "Dr. Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us! You haven't seen him have you?"

"No," Sam shook his head. "How do you know it was him?"

"We found his logbook," Dean explained. "Apparently he was experimenting on his patients… awful stuff. Makes lobotomy look like a couple of aspirins."

"But it was the patients who rioted," Sam argued.

"Surprise, surprise," Jayne retorted. "Wouldn't you have rioted? He was practically torturing them, Sam."

"See, Dr. Feel-Good was working some intense rage therapy," Dean elaborated. "He thought if he could get his patients to vent their anger, then they'd be cured of it. Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So me and Goldilocks here figure that Ellicott's spirit is haunting this place, still doing the same thing. To the cop. To the kids in the seventies. Making them so angry they turn homicidal."

Sam stared at them for a moment. Dean didn't really have time for his explanation to sink in, so he took charge and started walking on down the hall. "Come on," he said. "We've got to find and torch his bones."

"How?" Sam demanded. "The police never found his body."

"Yeah, well they also didn't find his logbook," Jayne replied. "Seems he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here."

"And if I was a patient." Dean added. "I figure I'd drag his ass down here and do a little work on him myself."

Sam still looked skeptical, which Dean found slightly strange. "I don't know you guys. That sounds a little…"

"Crazy?" Dean supplied. "Yeah, I know."

He made to keep going down the hall. By now, Jayne had taken the lead and he followed her closely, adding his flashlight to hers. She stopped before a heavy metal door that read BOILER ROOM in large red letters.

Jayne glanced at him over her shoulder. "Seem like a good place to start?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, head on in." He looked back at Sam as Jayne stepped into the boiler room. "Come on," he said, nodding towards the door.

Sam still wasn't thrilled about the theory he and Jayne had concocted, but he consented to follow the two inside.

The room was as dark as the rest of the basement, with a little light coming in from the huge industrial fan on the ceiling. Like everywhere else in the abandoned mental hospital, the walls were covered in grime and the floor was littered with broken, decomposing junk.

Dean and Jayne shone their flashlights into all the corners, searching for signs of the procedure room. Sam had finally come inside, and he followed Dean around as he looked. "I told you, I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room."

"Yeah, well, that's why they call it hidden," Dean retorted. Sam's lips tightened in exasperation, but he said nothing.

That's when the soft whistling sound reached Dean's ears.

"You hear that?" he asked.

Sam stared at him. "What?"

"No, I hear it too," Jayne spoke up. Dean felt instantly grateful as she followed him towards the source of the noise. "Sounds like wind."

They reached the wall. Dean knelt down, seeing a small space between the wall and the floor. He reached out, feeling the cold air coming in through the crack.

"There's a door here," he announced.

Jayne stepped back slightly, her eyes traveling from the crack and up. "I think we're going to need that crowbar again," she said.

"Dean."

It was Sam's voice, and he'd spoken only one word. Still, Dean noticed immediately the strange quality in his voice. He sounded too serious. Almost resigned.

Dean turned around, getting to his feet. Jayne turned around as well.

Sam was pointing a shot gun at them.

"Step away from the door," Sam ordered.

Blood trickled out his nose, and down his chin.

Dean stared at the gun for a moment. He stepped ever so subtly in front of Jayne. "Sam, put the gun down," he said.

"Is that an order?" Sam sneered.

Dean attempted to smile. "More like a friendly request."

"Because I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders," Sam went on.

"I bet you are," Jayne interjected, taking a step forward. Dean glared at her out of the corner of his eye. "I mean, I know I am. He's a regular pain in the ass, right? But, um… maybe the gun's not necessary."

Sam eyed her suspiciously. Dean didn't like the look. He had a sudden urge to grab Jayne and throw her behind him.

"Really?" Sam asked. He sounded unconvinced.

"I mean, I know Dean pisses _me_ off," Jayne went on. "But we talked about it, and now we're ok. So maybe we should just talk about this."

Sam kept the gun trained on Dean specifically. He seemed at least a little interested in what Jayne had to say. "You want to talk?" he asked.

"Definitely," Jayne replied. "Dean does too, don't you Dean?"

Dean glared at her, and then forced a smile. He looked back at his brother. "Oh, so much."

"All right," Sam spat. "Let's talk."

Dean managed not to wince. Jayne stepped forward again, moving subtly so Sam wouldn't detect her advance. Dean again resisted the urge to drag her behind him. What the hell was she doing?"

"Let's talk," Sam continued. "Let's talk about how I've lived my entire life being bossed around by my big brother."

Then suddenly, he whirled around, pointing the gun straight at Jayne.

"But first, let's talk about how you're not fooling me," he added.

Dean knew he was going to pull the trigger before the shot went off. He grabbed Jayne's arm, dragging her back towards him. The rock salt splattered against the far wall as Dean shoved Jayne behind him.

He heard her heavy, panicked breathing in his ear. He squeezed her wrist, hoping she'd view it as a comfort. Of course, knowing Jayne, she'd probably view it as an insult.

"Hey!" Dean snapped at his brother. "You got a problem with me, then you got a problem with _me_. There's no reason to drag her into it."

The comment didn't faze Sam in the slightest. The younger Winchester just laughed bitterly.

"And of course," he taunted. "Dean's protecting the little woman. So romantic, so cliché… so my big brother."

Dean watched his brother carefully, hiding his observing eyes with a joke. "Little woman?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Jayne – but only, of course, for a moment. "You kidding? The girl's nearly as tall as me! Seriously, give her a pair of heels and I'll look like a midget."

He felt more than saw Jayne's glare. "Bite me," she spat.

"Hey, don't hate me 'cause I'm normal," he retorted.

"You know…"

"Really?" Sam interrupted with impatience. "Are we going to do this again? The same thing you two do every time you meet? The fighting, the bantering… I mean, come on! Don't you ever get tired of this song and dance? Really, why don't you just fuck one another already and get it over with?"

Dean blinked, shocked. Whatever he'd thought Sam would say, that certainly hadn't been it.

"But I don't wanna fuck him," Jayne practically whined from behind him.

Dean glared at her over his shoulder.

Jayne shrugged, not the least bit apologetic. "Well, I don't know where your business has been."

Dean's glare turned incredulous. "My _business_?"

"Shut up," Sam snapped, finally having had enough. "Both of you, shut the fuck up."

He stepped closer, leveling the gun straight with Dean's chest. Dean didn't flinch. He didn't back away. But he did shove Jayne just a little farther behind him.

"I knew it," he said, his tone accusing. "Ellicott did something to you, didn't he?"

"For once, just shut your mouth."

"What are you going to do, Sam?" Dean sneered. "Shoot me? The gun's loaded with rock salt."

"Seemed to scare you enough earlier," Sam pointed out.

Dean bit his lip, eying the shotgun. "Call it instinct."

They faced off a little longer. "You can pull the trigger," Dean finally said. "But it's not going to kill me."

The shotgun blast echoed throughout the basement. Hard splintery shards of salt tore through Dean's chest. The force of the blast sent him backwards; into Jayne, into the door, straight on through to Ellicott's room, and then flat on the floor.

He heard Jayne scream. He hadn't expected her to scream. Screaming was not Jayne Gibson's thing.

The pain kept him frozen, stiff, lying on the floor – no, on Jayne. She was underneath him now. Dean couldn't move. He drew his breath in short, pained gasps.

"No," Sam agreed with Dean's earlier statement. "But it'll hurt like hell."

Dean felt himself being lifted up from behind. He coughed, groaning with pain. Jayne's arms snaked under his as she moved around behind him, sitting up off the floor. She held him up and he leaned heavily against her.

"Sam," he heard her say. "Think about what you're doing. You're trying to kill your own brother!"

"I wonder why that would be."

"Think about what you're doing," Jayne continued to argue. "Look, this isn't you talking. It's what Ellicott did to you."

"Oh, it's me all right."

"No, it's not. Sam, I need you to put that gun down. I need you to help me find Ellicott's bones. We have to salt and burn them, and then this will all be over. All right? You'll be yourself again."

"I am myself," Sam snapped. "I'm just telling the truth for once. I mean, why are we even here? Because Dean's following Dad's orders like a good little soldier?"

"No," Dean choked out. He coughed a little. Jayne's arms tightened around his torso. "No," he said again, gaining control over his voice. "We're here because innocent people need our help."

"No, we're not!" Sam shouted at him. "We're here because of Dad. Because of you. Because you always do what he says without question. Are you that desperate for his approval?!"

"This isn't you talking."

"That's the difference between you and me, Dean. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you."

"So what are you going to do?" Dean retorted. "Kill me?"

"Oh, no he is not."

Dean's head swung up and to the right at the new voice.

Lynn was standing at the doorway to the boiler room, her Glock aimed directly at Sam's head.

Dean honestly couldn't remember _ever_ being this relieved to see Lynn Juarez.

"He's not going to do anything of the sort," Lynn went on, stepping closer.

Sam snorted. "Well. Look who came to join the party."

"Put the gun down, Sam."

"What are you going to do, Lynn? Shoot me?"

"Well, I guess I could," Lynn smirked. "After all, _that's_ the difference between you and _me_, Sam. Your gun's loaded with rock salt. Mine's loaded with real bullets."

"You're not going to kill me," Sam retorted. He was smirking too.

"Don't bet on it."

Dean watched the exchange warily. He felt Jayne lean into him and swallowed, recognizing the feel of her chest against his back. She leaned over him, her fingers grazing the side of his stubbly cheek.

"Are you all right?" she whispered. The quiet tone couldn't hide the anxiety in her voice.

Dean nodded, trying to sit up. She helped him.

"I guess I ought to be terrified right now," Sam was saying. "I mean, it adds up. I'm threatening your sister, you have a gun, and you're insane, so… yeah. I guess the logical conclusion is that you're going to kill me."

Dean watched his older brother step closer to Lynn. Lynn made a point of refocusing her aim.

"But see, logic never really works when you enter the equation, does it Lynn?" Sam went on, sneering. "I mean, who really knows _what_ you're going to do."

Lynn didn't lose her focus, but it was clear the words had stung. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

As Dean sat on the cold ground, regrouping, he was suddenly aware of Jayne gently unfolding the cradling hold she'd had on him.

"It means I'm sick of trying to figure you out. Just like I'm sick of Dean dragging and pushing me around."

Jayne got to her feet, hunching over to avoid detection. Dean panicked. He mouthed furiously, 'What the hell are you doing?'

She ignored him.

"_You're_ sick of trying to figure _me_ out?" Lynn retorted. "That's funny."

Jayne slowly drew her pistol out from the back waistband of her jeans.

"Not really," Sam half snarled. "You know, I liked you Lynn."

Dean watched Jayne creep closer to his brother, the bile in his stomach bubbling and swishing around inside him. He forced himself up on his knees.

"I did," Sam went on. "But I am so tired of playing your weird little game."

"My weird little game? What about _your_ weird little game?"

Jayne moved closer and closer to Sam. Dean tried to stand.

"Don't act like I'm the bad guy."

"You are the psycho with the gun."

Jayne was getting closer and closer… too close. Much too close. Dean swallowed, preparing to launch himself at Sam.

"No, you're the psycho – psycho bitch to be exact. I don't know what you want out of me, Lynn! I don't know what you're trying to pull here! You play games with my head, you confuse my feelings… I'm still mourning Jessica! Jessica, the girl I was going to marry! But you don't seem to realize that! Or if you do, you don't care!"

"How dare you say that to me?"

"You wormed your way into my life despite all that! You _made_ me like you! You _made_ me confide in you! And now you're pulling away! You can't play with me like that!"

"I'm not!"

"You're a heartless…!"

_Crack!_ Jayne's pistol made sickening contact with Sam's skull. Sam swayed on his feet for a moment, looking stunned. Then he fell to his knees, slumped over on his side, and hit the ground, unconscious.

There was a long silence. Jayne turned slowly to look at Dean. He met her gaze and held it. Then she returned to his side and helped him to his feet.

Lynn stomped her foot hard on the ground. "That asshole!" she exploded.

"Cut him some slack, Lynn," Jayne said as she made sure Dean was steady on his feet. Dean shoved her off, fixing her with a glare, which she responded to by rolling her eyes. "He did get driven homicidal by the crazy pissed off spirit of a psychologist."

"That is no excuse!"

"All right, ladies," Dean spoke up. "We have some bones to burn, so…"

"Right," Jayne agreed. "Let's do it."

"I'll watch the door," Lynn volunteered with a sigh. "Just in case the psychotic jackass wakes up."

Dean stared at her a moment. "Ok," he said finally, giving her a grin. Then he made his way farther into the procedure room. Jayne followed close behind.

The two of them split up and began circling the room, searching for any possible place that could hide a body. After a while, Dean came upon a white cabinet, situated close to the floor. He almost instantly spotted the small tuft of gray hair poking out through the door.

"Yo, Goldilocks!" he called over his shoulder. "I think I found it!"

Jayne looked up from where she was poking around and started towards him.

Dean knelt before the cabinet and pulled the door open.

He gagged. The gray, twisted, half decomposed body of Dr. Ellicott was squeezed tightly inside the cabinet.

"Yeah," he choked out, grimacing. "Definitely found Ellicott."

"Dean!" Jayne shouted at him. "Watch…!"

Jayne never finished her sentence. Suddenly, Dean was tackled from the side and knocked onto the floor. He rolled over onto his back and found himself pinned beneath the gray haired and gray skinned specter of Dr. Ellicott.

"Don't worry," the spirit said. "I'm going to make you all better."

Then his fingers were on Dean's temples, and electricity began jolting and spitting all through his head. He heard agonized bellows of pain… and suddenly realized they belonged to him. The shouting didn't make the painful shocks stop. Nothing did.

Until the shot fired.

The rock salt hit Ellicott in the head. He exploded in a swirl of black smoke.

Breathless, Dean looked up and saw Jayne, barely three feet away, looking panicked and clutching her shotgun. "Dean?" she asked.

"I'm fine," he said, grimacing as he sat up. Jayne rushed to his side.

"Dean?" Lynn called from the door.

"I'm fine!" he called back.

"Jayne?"

"Don't worry, Lynn."

Jayne knelt beside Dean and helped him sit up. "Are you all right? Are you sure?"

"I'm really fine," Dean assured her, reaching for his bag. He started rooting around for the salt and the lighter fluid. "We need to torch this sucker quick."

Jayne nodded her agreement and took the salt canister he offered her. She knelt before the cabinet grave of Dr. Ellicott and dumped salt onto his bones.

Dean handed her the lighter fluid next and she squirted that all over the body as well. Then Dean began digging for his lighter.

Jayne sighed impatiently. Dean ignored her, still rifling through his bag and his pockets. Where the hell was the damn thing? He'd had it less than two hours before.

Jayne screamed.

A lump in his throat, Dean snapped his head up to find the trouble – and saw Jayne being lifted off the ground by the spirit of the mad doctor and thrown onto the floor several feet away. The spirit sat on top of her, grabbed her temples, and began administering his twisted shock therapy.

Panicked, Dean kicked up the search for his lighter. He finally found it in his jeans and flicked it on, tossing it into the cabinet.

The bones flared up instantly. Dean dragged himself away from the blaze, stumbling onto his feet. Jayne's screams faded away as Ellicott's started. The spirit burst into flames as well, and crumbled to the floor: a pile of dust.

Jayne was still on the ground. She didn't move.

Dean threw himself across the room, hitting the ground on his knees, and grabbed Jayne by the face. "Jayne!" he thundered. "Jaynie? Are you all right? Jaynie!"

She began to stir. Dean heaved a sigh of relief. "Jayne?" he asked softly, giving her a little shake. He didn't let go of her face.

Jayne slowly opened her eyes. She blinked. Then she frowned.

"Did you just call me Jaynie?" she asked.

"Uh…" Dean faltered. "No."

She stared at him. "Good," she said after a moment. "Don't."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Are you all right?" he demanded.

Jayne nodded. "Yeah. Fine. Stop touching my face."

Immediately, he let go and held his hands up in a surrendering fashion. "Sorry."

She hauled herself up into a sitting position. Dean helped her out. "Get the ghost?" she asked.

Dean nodded. "You know it."

"Cool."

He got to his feet and took her by the hands, lifting her off the ground. Jayne stood up straight, blinked a few times, and then waved him off. She seemed fine, so Dean released her.

"Is everyone all right?" Lynn's soft voice called from the door.

"We're fine!" Dean hollered back.

"Sam awake?" Jayne asked.

"Not yet. I'll see if I can get him up."

Her footsteps faded as she moved away from the entrance to the procedure room and made her way back to where they'd left Sam.

"Well," Dean said, exhaling. "That was fun."

"Yeah," Jayne returned. "Buckets."

* * *

Sam blinked slowly awake, hearing a soft feminine voice calling his name.

"Sam? Sam! Come on, you got to get up!"

He forced his eyes open all the way. Wherever he was, it was cold and dark. He was laying on a hard, uncomfortable surface.

Frowning down at him was Lynn.

It all came rushing back. The encounter with Ellicott's ghost, the showdown with Dean and Jayne, the argument with Lynn…

Sam sat up quickly. His head spun and he reached out for support. Lynn grabbed him, holding him up.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

Sam nodded, clutching the back of his head. "Uh-huh. Fine."

He didn't really know what to say. He felt like he ought to apologize, but at the same time was loath to bring it up. Lynn was tight lipped and stern, but her eyes looked soft and concerned.

Sam tried to heave himself onto his feet. Lynn quickly stood and helped him off the ground. He wobbled on his feet, still clutching his head. Lynn continued supporting him, helping him right himself. When he stood steady on his own, she slowly let go of him.

"Are you all right?" she asked again.

Sam nodded, slightly breathless. "Yeah. I'm fine."

"You sure?" she pressed. "You're not too dizzy, not nauseas, everything in semi-working order?"

"I'm fine," Sam assured her, releasing his head. "Really."

Lynn nodded. "Good."

_Smack!_

Lynn hauled off and slapped him across the face.

Sam blinked, holding his cheek, trying to regain his balance. "Ow!" he exclaimed indignantly.

"Bastard," Lynn spat, stomping her foot. She turned abruptly away from him and marched off down the hall, her hips swinging back and forth in a righteous display of fury.

Sam's mouth fell open slightly as he watched her walk away. He glanced over at the entrance to Ellicott's room and jumped slightly when he saw Jayne and Dean standing there.

They were covered in grime and soot and plaster dust. They looked sore and tired. Sam instantly felt guilty. Wordlessly, he moved his mouth, unsure of what to say or what to ask. They just stared at him a moment, and then exchanged a look between themselves.

"You had that coming," Dean informed him. Then the two of them walked past Sam and followed Lynn towards the stairs.

* * *

There was silence in the pickup truck.

Jayne glanced at her stepsister out of the corner of her eye, nervously running her tongue over her teeth. Lynn sat with her arms crossed over her chest, glaring straight out the windshield.

Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, Jayne returned her eyes to the road, wishing they were already at the motel. She was exhausted. And sitting in the truck with Lynn was stressing her out.

After several long minutes of silence, Jayne ventured to speak. "So," she said. "Um… you still mad?"

"Yes."

The reply was short, succinct, and instantaneous.

Jayne cringed. "Um, look… I know Sam said some pretty shitty things…"

"Extraordinarily shitty," Lynn interrupted. "Unbelievably, unforgivably shitty things."

"Right," Jayne said. "But… he was sort of possessed. You know, ish. So, um… maybe we can let him off the hook here."

"Absolutely not."

There was another long silence.

"Ok, but…" Jayne spoke once again. "Here's the thing. I'm sure if you talk to Sam, he'll apologize. And I mean, it's not like he wanted to say those things. You know, it's not like he meant any of it."

"Bull shit," Lynn snapped. "He meant every word."

"Lynn…"

"No, he did. He fucking did. You can't bullshit me, ok? That's how that creepy Ellicott therapy thing worked! He made you vent your anger and flaunt your anger on the surface so you would act upon your anger and… yeah. Sam meant all that crap! He's obviously been thinking that way for a long time!"

"Well, no… I mean, maybe he's been confused and Ellicott exaggerated that confusion…"

"What right does _he_ have to be confused? I am the confused one! I am the one getting played with! When did I ever play with him?"

"Well, let's be fair, Lynn. I'm sure you played with him a little bit."

"Did not."

"Maybe not intentionally, but I'm sure you did."

"Nope. Never."

"Lynn, your very nature is to play games."

"I resent that!"

"It's true!"

"Nu-uh!"

"Yeah-huh!"

"You are a terrible sister."

"I am an honest sister, not a terrible sister. I'm not going to lie to you so you can feel better."

"Right. You're a terrible sister."

"Damn it, Lynn…"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Fine."

They lapsed into another silence, both pissed at the other.

"He's a jerk," Lynn said.

"All right, fine. He's a jerk."

Two minutes later, Jayne breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled into the motel parking lot. She parked the truck in front of their room and shut down the ignition.

The Impala parked beside her. Lynn gave the old car a dark glower and then jumped out of the cab, slammed her door, and marched towards the motel.

Sam leapt from the Impala and chased after her.

Jayne shook her head, sighing, and climbed down from the driver's seat, shutting the door gently behind her.

Dean, having just gotten out of his driver's seat, looked at her over the top of the car. "That's going to be one messy argument," he announced.

Jayne nodded. "Oh, yeah."

"Not like your stepsister doesn't have a right to be pissed," Dean observed after a moment.

Jayne shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose she does. But…"

She trailed off. "But what?" Dean asked.

Sighing, Jayne shrugged again. "Crazy ghosts messed with your brother's head. He can't be held accountable for that."

Dean stared at her a moment. "Can't he?" he asked after awhile.

Jayne frowned at him. "Are you really upset about what happened back there?"

Dean shrugged, his hands in his coat pockets. He looked at the ground and nudged the pavement with his toe. "Nah. I'm not upset."

Jayne watched him for a moment, not saying a word. Dean stared at the pavement some more and then looked up at her, meeting her eyes.

"I'm not upset," he said again. "But… it's not like Sam was possessed. In order for all that deep seated crazy to bust out, it kind of had to be there to begin with."

Jayne didn't have an answer to that. She couldn't argue with him; she knew it was probably true. It was like Danny, back in Stamping Ground. If it hadn't been for the demons, he'd have never hit her. But deep down, he always would have wanted to.

Still, everyone got angry with the people they loved. It was how the world worked. You internalized it – or talked about it, whatever – you moved on.

Dean was still shuffling around by his car. Jayne looked at him. "Well, if Sam did mean all that crap, I guess you can't blame him," she said. "I mean, you are bossy and controlling and a tad chauvinistic."

He glared at her.

"But hey," Jayne shrugged. "You're just doing what you think is best. Your heart's in the right place and all that crap. So I guess that's what really counts or whatever. Yeah."

Dean started smirking. He stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Shut up," Jayne snapped. She headed for the motel.

"Thanks Goldilocks!" he called after her. She could hear laughter in his voice.

Jayne flicked him off without turning around and headed inside.

* * *

"Lynn! Will you just wait a minute?"

Oh, but she wouldn't. Lynn kept storming right for her motel door. Sam, however, had legs the length of freaking telephone poles, so he caught up to her fast and stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

Lynn didn't even pause. She whirled around and stormed away from the motel.

"Lynn!" Sam called. "Can you stop? I want to explain!"

He tried to cut her off again, but she swiftly changed directions and stormed towards Janis.

"Lynn! Let me apologize! You know I didn't mean any of that stuff I said! I was just…"

That's when she stopped. Lynn whirled around to face him, dark eyes flashing. "Don't you lie to me, Sam Winchester!"

Sam blinked.

"I know you meant everything you said!" she pushed on.

He blinked at her again, but his blank expression did little to pacify her. Lynn was ready to knock Sam's head from his shoulders. She was irate enough as it was – the things he'd said to her back at the asylum were beyond hurtful: they were inexcusable. But now he had the nerve to stand there and tell her he didn't mean it?

Fucking bull shit!

"You weren't possessed, Sam!" she hollered. "You weren't being mind controlled or having your marionette strings pulled! You were you; you were just you as homicidal prig!"

"Ok," Sam said, nodding. He took a deep breath. "Ok, maybe you're right."

Lynn blinked. She crossed her arms over her chest and struck a half indignant, half surprised pose, with her hip jutting out to the left side. "I'm right?" she repeated.

He nodded again. "Yeah. You're right."

His concession only pissed her off further. She didn't want to hear that she was right; she _knew_ that she was right. What she wanted was to argue. She wanted to have a knock down, drag out, bullet to the bone fight.

"Of course I'm right!" Lynn snapped.

There was a long silence. Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. "Look, Lynn, I'm really sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough."

They said nothing else for a while. Then Lynn snapped again. "You know, Sam, you have a lot of nerve."

He started. "I do?"

"Yes," she retorted. "You do. You have a lot of nerve. Thinking those things about me? They aren't even true, Sam!"

"Look…"

"No, you look! I am not the one playing the games here! That's on you! I have tired to talk to you, to understand you, but it's like you never heard the word consistency in your life! One minute, you're bubbly and open, and the next you're zeroed in on a case and it's like I don't exist!"

"That isn't remotely…"

"And when it comes to Jessica? If you think I don't consider that name every day I spend time with you, you are dead wrong. You know damn well I like you, Sam. You know damn well you're my friend. And I'm pretty sure you know damn well I want to be more!"

"I don't know…"

"But her shadow constantly hangs over my head, Sam! I can never make a move on you – not a _real_ move. Because I never know if it's acceptable! I never know if you're ready! This is a game I've never played before, Sam, and I'm starting to feel like I'm not any good at it!"

"That's just it!" Sam shouted. "I don't want to play games anymore!"

"Then why do you keep me guessing?" Lynn thundered. "How am I supposed to have any idea what you want?"

"How am I supposed to have any idea what _you_ want, Lynn?"

His voice rang out across the parking lot, louder than any of her shouts had been. Lynn was silenced momentarily.

"It's not like you've been upfront with me either!" Sam yelled at her, seeming to get more and more worked up by the minute. Lynn stared at him, gob-smacked. "One minute you're flirting with me, the next minute you're telling me you're not remotely interested in me! And now you're telling me that's not even how you actually feel! I don't know what you want, Lynn! I can't read your mind!"

There was another long silence. The two of them stared at one another.

"You want to know what I want?" Lynn finally asked, still shouting.

"Yes!" Sam hollered back.

"Do you?"

"Yes! I said, yes!"

Lynn got on her tiptoes and reached up, grabbing hold of his face, and yanking his lips down to hers. Caught off guard, Sam stumbled, bending almost in half as she kissed him hard on the mouth. Sam's arms closed around her waist, lifting her off the ground and onto the railing along the motel's outdoor hallway. Her lips pumped hard against his, and Sam's tongue forced its way inside her mouth. Lynn forced her way inside his mouth too, tugging him closer to her, pressing her chest against his. Sam's one hand crept up her back towards her bra…

He pulled away quite suddenly, staring at her in shock. Lynn stared back, not surprised. She waited a minute to see what he would say or do, but predictably Sam said or did nothing.

She pushed him gently back and then hopped down off the railing. "See, that's why I haven't told you what I really want," she informed him, her tone considerably calmer. "Because I knew you wouldn't know what to do with it."

His mouth moved soundlessly. Lynn went on.

"I don't know much about these things," she said. "I figured you were all caught up in Jessica, and I didn't want to compete with that. But that's what I've wanted Sam. More than that, really."

Sam made a strange noise and said nothing further.

"I might as well be honest," she continued. "I don't really think you know me all that well, Sam. I'm a physical being, and I like physical contact. That's how I let you know what I want, every time. Furthermore… well, let's be plain: I am a crazy bitch. If you think this was bad, well… you ain't seen nothing yet."

She turned to walk away. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry I threw myself at you, or however you're reading it. I just… well, now you know what I want. Games over."

Then she left. She walked straight to her motel room, feeling his eyes on her back with every step she took. It was impossible to know what he was thinking, but she did know he wasn't following her, and that was enough.

She opened the door and stepped inside, shutting the door and bolting it behind her. Jayne was already in bed, and she looked fast asleep.

Sighing, Lynn kicked off her shoes, peeled off her jeans, and climbed under the sheets. It was unlikely she would hear from Sam again.

* * *

He'd spent all night awake, running around a haunted asylum, and he still couldn't sleep.

Sam envied his brother at times like these. Dean was out for the count, snoring softly in the next bed over.

Sam's eyes were shut and he was trying to shut out the rest of the world, but after all that had happened he wasn't going to sleep easy, and that's all there was to it.

That's when Dean's phone rang. And rang. And rang and rang and rang. "Dean!" Sam called, annoyed.

His brother didn't wake up. Sam tried again. "Dean!"

When his brother remained asleep, Sam sighed heavily and reached over to the bedside table, snatching the phone up and flipping it open. "Hello?" he said into the receiver.

"Hello, son."

Sam sat straight up in bed. The low, husky rumble on the other end was unmistakable. He would know that voice anywhere.

"Dad?"

* * *


	31. And Now a Word From Papa Winchester

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Big thank yous to 9Winchester9Girl9, Peridot809, Strangler000, angeleyenc, Heavenstar3, Lov3good, legrowl, impalame, ThreeMoons, Nelle07, Little Rock-n-Roll and martine for the awesome reviews!

Note to Heavenstar: I'm not really sure I can answer that question. It's not really the sort of question that has a direct and easy answer. There's really no specific chapter that addresses it, and I can't even say there will be a chapter that addresses it. Thanks for your interest, though… sorry I can't be a bigger help. ;)

* * *

Chapter 31: And Now a Word from Papa Winchester

_Boom! Boom! Boom!_

Jayne jumped, sitting straight up in bed. Frowning and shaking hair out of her eyes, she looked over at the motel room door.

_Boom! Boom! Boom!_

"Lynn! Jayne! Open the door! It's Sam!"

By this time, Lynn had sat up in bed as well, eyeing her surroundings with visible drowsiness. "You get it," she mumbled.

Jayne glared at her, but hauled herself out of bed. She snatched her sweats up off the floor and yanked them on.

_Boom! Boom! Boom!_

"Damn it, Sam, you bang on that door one more time and I'm going to machete your hand clean off!" Jayne roared, storming towards the door.

Lynn lay back down and buried her face in her pillow.

Jayne threw the door open to find a rather sheepish Sam Winchester standing on the other side of the threshold, his hands jammed in his pockets. "Sorry?" he offered.

"What do you want?" Jayne demanded.

Sam looked her straight in the eye, his face somber.

"I heard from my Dad."

* * *

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jayne said. Lynn winced as she tossed the last bag into Janis's bed, sensing an argument. "Let me get this straight. Your Dad calls up out of the blue to tell you the thing that killed our mothers is a demon."

Lynn felt a headache coming on. The four hunters were standing out in the parking lot, all fully dressed and itching to eat some road. After Sam's mind blowing proclamation, he'd left the room so Lynn and her stepsister could get dressed. Then the two women had stepped outside to load the truck and hear the entire story from Sam and his brother.

Jayne was livid, and Lynn was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable. "And then," Jayne pressed on. "He ordered you to stop looking for him and sent you on a hunt in Indiana."

"That's pretty much it," Dean replied, sounding annoyed. "But thanks for the sum up, Goldilocks."

Jayne narrowed her eyes, and Lynn saw the most recent truce between Dean and her stepsister scamper off into the wilderness. God, this one hadn't even lasted twenty-four hours!

"Well, that's bullshit," Jayne snapped. "Where's your father?"

"He didn't say," Dean snapped right back.

"I traced the call," Sam announced.

Long silence followed this admission.

"What?" Dean finally asked, sounding no more pleased with his brother than he'd been with Jayne.

"Where to?" Jayne demanded.

"It doesn't matter!" Dean retorted before Sam could even open his mouth. "We're not going!"

"No, _you're_ not going!" Jayne returned. "But I sure as hell am. Sam?"

Sam looked up from the dead leaf he'd been studying to deliver a classic 'deer-in-headlights' expression.

"Where did you trace the call to?" she elaborated.

"California," Sam replied with minimal hesitation. "The Sacramento area."

Another long silence descended. Lynn spent this silence staring at the pavement beneath her feet, poking at a small stone with the toe of her boot.

This was an important conversation, she knew. Major big time demon hunting developments had occurred.

So was it wrong to be miffed that Sam hadn't even glanced in her direction?

"All right," Jayne broke the silence. "I say we go."

"Really?" Sam asked eagerly.

"Absolutely not," Dean said, his tone firm.

"Lynn?" Jayne turned to her.

Lynn looked at her sister, chewing her tongue. "Well… I don't know."

Jayne didn't look upset with her, which Lynn found strange. "Why?" she asked gently.

Great. Super-sister had sensed something was up.

Lynn shrugged. "Well… I'm not opposed to going, it's just… what are we going to do when we get there? Stalk John Winchester?"

Jayne shrugged. "Hey, if their Dad's tracking a demon and the trail led him to Sacramento, I say we go to Sacramento and look for some omens in the surrounding areas."

Lynn thought the plan over for a moment. It made some sort of sense, she supposed. At the very least, it was better than no lead at all.

"Ok," she agreed. "If that's what you want to do, I'm on board."

Jayne looked both surprised and grateful, and Lynn immediately felt guilty. She'd been lacking in the supportive sister area, she supposed. If Jayne had begun to expect disappointment from her, then maybe she needed another attitude adjustment.

"No," Dean snapped. "It's not happening."

"No one asked you to go," Jayne returned angrily.

"Dean," Sam interjected. "Maybe we should think about this. I mean, what if Dad needs our help? What if the demon is in Sacramento? I don't think we should pass this opportunity up!"

"I said no, Sam!" Dean nearly roared. "Dad gave us an order!"

"And we're just supposed to do exactly what he says?" Sam asked incredulously. "Even if we know he's wrong?"

"Dad's been tracking this bad SOB a lot longer than we have, Sam," Dean retorted. "If he says stay away, then we stay away. Besides, we have another case – and if we don't work that case, someone else could die!"

"What if Dad dies?" Sam shouted. "What then?"

"I said no!" Dean shouted right back. "We're not going! End of discussion!"

The small group arguing in the parking lot lapsed into yet another long silence. Sam was shaking his head, furious, and biting the inside of his mouth. Dean looked equally pissed as he yanked open the driver's door on the Impala.

He looked at Jayne. Lynn looked at Jayne too. Jayne stared evenly back at Dean, not flinching.

"I'm asking you not to go," Dean said.

It was an intense moment that Lynn felt uncomfortable observing. The exchange, so simplistic and anticlimactic, was somehow incredibly intimate. While she had entertained notions of a possible attraction between her stepsister and the eldest Winchester before, it wasn't until this moment that she fully believed her fancy.

"Dean," Jayne replied, and Lynn was startled by the gentle quality to her voice. "I'm sorry. Maybe you think I don't get it, but I do. He's your Dad. He gave you a job. You got to do what you got to do."

She paused, glancing at the pavement for a moment. Then she met his eyes again and shrugged.

"But he's not _my_ dad."

Dean stared at her a moment. "Well, then I guess _you _got to do what _you_ got to do."

Then he slid behind the wheel of the Impala and slammed the door shut behind him.

Lynn flinched. Jayne stared at the Impala for a second longer. If Lynn hadn't known better, she would have sworn there was regret in Jayne's eyes.

But the moment was fleeting, and her stepsister turned from the scene all too quickly, stalking to the driver's side of the truck. She climbed into the cab, and slammed the door too.

Lynn looked at Sam. She almost expected him to ignore her, but he didn't. He stared right back at her.

There was a long silence, which Lynn supposed was logical. She had no idea what to say to him. If she didn't know what to say, she sure as hell doubted he had anything to contribute.

"Sammy!" Dean roared impatiently from inside the Impala.

Sam's whole expression changed. It went from unreadable to visibly pissed.

Lynn reached behind her, searching blindly for the handle on the truck door. "I'm sorry, Sam," she announced.

He looked at her, his mouth slightly open. Still he said nothing, and Lynn climbed into Janis before he could utter a sound.

Lynn yanked the door shut. Her stepsister started the truck. She heard the slam of Sam's door as he climbed into the Impala, and then she heard the familiar rumble of Dean's engine turning over.

She looked at Jayne, who was staring straight out the windshield. Jayne put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot.

Big fat raindrops splattered on the windshield. It had begun to pour.

* * *

Sam drove down the dark road, glaring mutinously out the windshield.

He was going to Indiana.

Stupid, pointless Indiana.

"So, the names Dad gave us?" Sam asked, trying not to let his irritation creep into his voice. "They're all couples?"

"That's right," Dean nodded, intent on the papers in front of him. He was studying them by the beam from his flashlight. "Three couples. All went missing."

"And they're all from different towns? Different states?"

"Yeah. Washington, New York, Colorado… they all took a road trip cross country, none of them arrived at their destination, and none of them were ever heard from again."

"Well, it's a big country, Dean," Sam pointed out, feeling more and more annoyed by the minute. "They could have disappeared anywhere."

"Yeah. Could have," Dean returned. "But each one's route took them through the same part of Indiana. Always on the second week of April, one year after another, after another."

"This is the second week of April."

"Yep."

"So Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?"

"Yahtzee."

They paused for a moment as Dean shuffled some papers around. Sam shook his head. He could not believe he was getting sent on this wild goose chase. Maybe Dean thought they were working a case, but Sam knew better. This was a distraction; this was John's way of getting his boys out of his hair.

"Man, could you imagine putting a pattern together like this?" Dean asked suddenly, his voice full of admiration. Sam's knuckles tightened on the wheel. "I mean, the different obits Dad had to go through? The man's a master."

Sam had heard enough.

With a vicious twist of the steering wheel, Sam pulled the Impala off to the side of the road.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, looking around them in confusion.

Sam shoved the car into park. "We're not going to Indiana."

"We're not?"

"No. We're going to California."

Dean sighed harshly, slamming shut the file he held in his lap. "Sam, we've been through this already…"

"No, Dean!" Sam snapped. "No, we haven't been through this! I remember you and Jayne yelling at one another a lot, and then I remember you ordering my ass in the car, but I definitely don't remember going through this!"

"Exactly," Dean retorted. "We've been through this."

"We have to be in on this hunt," Sam said. "_I _have to be in on this hunt. If Dad is closing in on the thing that killed Mom, Jess… Ana Gibson… we have to be there. We have to help."

"Dad doesn't want our help."

"I don't care."

"He's given us an order."

"I don't care."

"Sam…"

"Jayne went," Sam pointed out. "Lynn went. What if they find the demon, huh? What if they get the drop on the thing, and we're not there?"

Dean's lips pursed together. His eyes grew icy. "No one was stopping you, Sam," he said in a low, vicious tone. "If you wanted to go to California, maybe you should have hitched a ride with them."

Sam stared at his brother for a moment, and then shook his head incredulously. "I can't believe you. You want to kill this thing every bit as badly as I do, but you won't. You won't stand up to Dad. Look, Jayne was right. It doesn't matter what Dad says; we have to do what _we _have to do."

"Yeah," Dean returned bitterly. "And Jayne made her decision. Jayne left, because that's what she felt she had to do. And your little girlfriend went with her, because at least Lynn understands the concept of sticking with her family."

Sam frowned at his brother, the look of incredulity still printed on his brow. "Did you think Jayne was going to come to Indiana?"

"Look," Dean snapped, instantly changing the subject. "Dad's asking us to work jobs. To save lives. It's important!"

"I understand that. Believe me, I do. But we're talking one week here, Dean," Sam argued. "One week. To find Dad, to get answers… to get revenge."

Dean sighed. "Look, Sam, I know how you feel…"

"Do you?" Sam demanded. "You were how old when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?"

They stared at one another for a moment. Finally, Dean said, "Dad said it wasn't safe. For any of us. Obviously he knows something that we don't, so if he says to stay away, we stay away!"

Sam shook his head, growing more and more furious with his brother. "I don't understand the blind faith you have in the man. It's like you don't even question him!"

"Yeah, it's called being a good son!"

And that's when Sam snapped.

He shook his head at his brother, and then he opened the car door. He stepped out into the night, and headed for the trunk.

Mere seconds later, he heard the passenger door slam shut. Sam continued rooting around in the trunk for his belongings. "You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" Dean said, rounding the bumper. "You just do whatever you want. Don't care what anyone else thinks."

"Is that what you really think?" Sam asked, hefting his last bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah. It is."

"Well, then this selfish bastard is going to California."

* * *

It seemed like the storm was chasing them.

Jayne stared at the damp road, feeling her eyes glazing over. The windshield wipers were pumping full speed, forcing water from one end of the glass to the other. The air in the cab was humid from the heater and the rain. Jayne tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in time to the scratchy, twangy Janis Joplin song playing softly on her cassette deck. She and her stepsister sat silently in the pickup as their wheels ate up the Interstate, rumbling along under the dark gray sky.

Her stomach was turning in anticipation. Russ had been right. Twenty-two years ago, a demon had slithered inside their colonial in Coventry, Connecticut and murdered her mother. What sort of demon, how powerful it might be… these were still open-ended questions. There was no way of telling whether or not they could handle what they were driving steadily towards.

Sam's recap of the conversation with his father was still ringing in Jayne's ears. He'd said his father was working on a way to kill the demon; not just exorcise it and send it back to Hell, but literally kill it. Kill it the way it must have killed so many young women.

Which was, of course, completely impossible. And still, the very idea made her salivate.

"Jayne, I have to tell you something."

Lynn's announcement startled her, ringing out too loud and harsh in the quiet of the cab. Her words came out in a jumbled, panicked rush.

Jayne froze. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Lynn protested, offended.

Jayne didn't say anything; she just waited for the admission. Lynn sighed.

"I kissed Sam."

There was a pause. Jayne frowned at the windshield, uncertain what she was supposed to say. Lynn was staring at her.

"Um… ok."

"That's it?" Lynn exclaimed. "Ok?"

"I don't know!" Jayne replied, shrugging. "I mean, uh… what happened? I thought you were all pissed at him."

"I was," Lynn sighed, closing her eyes and pounding the back of her head against the seat. "But then… we were fighting, and… and he said he never knew what I wanted, and I… well, I didn't know how else to make it clear!"

There was another pause.

"Right…" Jayne murmured. "You, um… couldn't just talk?"

"Shut it," Lynn snapped, sulking.

Jayne sighed, shaking her head. "Ok, so… that's it?"

"What do you mean that's it?"

"Well, I mean… um… why is this such a big deal?"

"How is it not a big deal?"

"Well… aren't you interested in Sam?"

"I was. I mean… I am. I think I am."

"You think you are?"

"Well…"

"So… what? You guys made up…"

"Not exactly."

"Oh."

"I… I don't know. I think I scared him. I messed something up."

"What did you mess up?"

"Everything."

There was a long silence.

"He wasn't ready," Lynn said after a while. "He wasn't ready, and now I think he never will be."

Jayne said nothing. She had nothing to offer. She didn't understand what had happened between her stepsister and Sam, she didn't understand why Lynn seemed to think it was the end of the world… she didn't get it. Plain and simple.

And she was much more concerned about what was waiting for them in Sacramento than she was about Lynn and Sam. She was more concerned about Sacramento than anything else.

Although the way Dean had looked at her in the parking lot before getting in the car… so betrayed, so angry…

That might haunt her for a while.

Lynn's phone began to ring.

"There you go," Jayne said, trying for a smirk. "Probably Sam."

Her stepsister stared at the display screen. "It's not Sam."

"Really? Then who is it?"

"I don't know," Lynn replied, looking at Jayne with wide eyes. "It's an unknown number."

The two lapsed into a silence broken only by the cell phone's persistent ringing.

"Well, answer the damn thing!" Jayne snapped.

Lynn jumped, and flipped the phone open with a panicked haste. "Hello?" she asked frantically.

Jayne couldn't explain the sudden bubbling of her stomach fluids, astir with anticipation. She chewed on the inside of her mouth, her tapping on the steering wheel increasing frantically.

Lynn spoke one word and ended with a question mark.

"Stephen?"

* * *

Sam's shoulders were getting sore.

The damp was cutting through his coat. His feet hurt. He'd been walking all night, and he was still on the same highway where Dean had left him. The dawn had broken, gray and dreary, and the road stretched on for miles, not a car in sight.

He looked back the way he'd came, searching for approaching cars or even Dean's Impala. Not that he really expected Dean to come back. Still…

Sam turned back around to face the direction he was walking and stopped short. On the side of the road, sitting on her knapsack, was a petite woman with short cropped blonde hair, jamming to the death metal screaming out her headphones.

He blinked. He frowned. He bent over and tapped the girl on the shoulder.

She leapt to her feet, a small yelp escaping her lips. When she whirled around, Sam couldn't help but notice that she was really quite pretty.

"Dude," she said, pulling the tiny speakers from her ears. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sorry," Sam apologized quickly. "I just… thought you might need some help."

She laughed a little, wearing an expression that made Sam feel like a creepy weirdo. "Well, I'm good, thanks."

They stood awkwardly for a moment. Then Sam asked, "Where are you headed?"

The girl smiled slyly. "No offense, but no way I'm telling you."

Sam frowned again. "Why not?"

"You could be some kind of freak. I mean… you are hitchhiking."

Sam laughed. "Well, so are you."

She laughed too.

Before either of them could say anything else, they were distracted by a loud car horn honking behind them. Sam turned and saw an old white van ambling slowly down the road. Sam and the mystery blonde turned to the street, watching and waiting. The van rolled to a stop in front of them.

"Need a ride?" the man behind the wheel asked.

Even though the guy seemed a little sketchy, Sam answered "Yes."

So did the woman beside him.

"Just her," the man said.

Taken aback, Sam frowned at the guy. Clearly, something was up.

The man simply frowned back. "I'm not taking you."

Sam blinked. He looked at the woman to see if she'd figured out hitching with this guy by herself was a bad plan

She didn't seem the least bit bothered and climbed into the passenger seat, closing the door after her.

Sam glanced at the man and then asked the blonde in a low voice, "You trust shady van guy, and not me?"

She smirked at him. "Definitely."

The van pulled away from the shoulder and rumbled on down the road. Sam was torn between disbelief and amusement. A small part of him wondered if he'd be the last person to see that girl alive.

* * *

"Where did he say he was?"

Lynn sighed, rubbing her eyes. "Clermont, Iowa."

"Which is…?"

"Some small town in Iowa, I guess."

"And he wants to meet us there?"

"Yep."

The two sisters lapsed into silence. Janis was parked on the side of the road, her hazards blinking in the blinding downpour.

Lynn jiggled her foot nervously, glancing at Jayne. Her stepsister was biting her lower lip and staring out at the rain.

"He says he's sorry," Lynn offered, shrugging her shoulders in a deceptively careless manner.

"I'll bet he is," Jayne bit out.

Lynn sighed again. "So… what do we do?"

"He wants to meet us."

"Yeah. To explain. To tell us something. I don't know… he sounded weird."

"How weird?"

"I don't know. Nervous, I guess. Scared."

They were quiet again.

"If we go, we might lose the lead," Lynn said finally, voicing what she knew they were both thinking.

It was Jayne's turn to sigh. "He's our brother. And he's been missing."

"He ran away," Lynn clarified.

"So?"

"So… I don't know. Do we go?"

"How can we not?" Jayne asked, and it was settled.

Lynn nodded. "Rest stop about five miles ahead. We can stop, get a map."

Jayne nodded back. "Okay."

The truck rumbled back to life. Jayne switched off the hazards and turned the headlights on. They roared away from the side of the road, heading down the highway once again.

Lynn leaned back in the seat, thinking. After months of silence, months of frantic worrying, months of fearing the worst… Stephen had called.

He was alive. Possibly even safe. And they were going to see him.

She stared out the window, watching the rain drops dribble little tracks down the glass. What were they going to say when they saw him?

More importantly, what was _he_ going to say?

As relieved as she felt, she wasn't happy.

She wasn't angry either. She wanted to be angry, but couldn't summon the energy. She was just… tired.

It was funny. They gained a little brother… they lost a lead on the demon they'd been hunting all their lives.

Such was life.

* * *

"Sorry, the Sacramento bus doesn't run again until tomorrow. 5:05pm."

Sam blinked at the woman at the ticket window. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was literally going to have to wait more than twenty-four hours in this dingy, poorly lit bus station before he'd finally be on his way to California.

"Tomorrow?" he repeated. "There's got to be another way."

"Oh there is," the clerk replied. "Buy a car."

Sam stared at the woman. She retuned to her computer, ignoring him. Sighing harshly and gathering up his bags, Sam turned from the window and stomped towards the waiting room.

Compulsively, he reached for his cell phone. He scrolled down his list of contacts, reaching Dean's name.

He hesitated.

"Hey."

The voice was feminine, but low pitched. He turned his head at the almost familiar treble and had a bit of a shock.

Sitting on her backpack, leaning against a pole, was the cute little blonde from the highway.

"You again," she said, giving him a smirk.

Sam put the phone away.

"Hey," he replied. "What happened to your ride?"

She shrugged. "You were right. That guy was shady. All hands."

Sam raised his eyebrow, not surprised in the slightest and wanting her to know it.

"I cut him loose," she finished.

Sam smiled. They hit a lull, and he found himself staring at the loading bus outside the door.

"What's the matter?" the blonde asked.

Sam looked back at her. "Just… trying to get California."

"No way," she returned, sounding intrigued.

"Yeah."

"Me too," she said, getting up. He watched as she approached him. "You know, the next bus doesn't leave until tomorrow."

"Yeah. That's the problem."

"Why? What's in Cali that's so important?"

Sam didn't know how to answer that. He laughed slightly, shrugging. "Just something I've been looking for. For a long time."

"Well," she smirked. "Then I'm sure it can wait one more day. Right?"

It couldn't wait one more day. It couldn't wait one more hour. It was too important. His dad might have left by now. The demon could have moved on. He was wasting time.

But the girl had a nice smile and an easy way about her, and Sam found himself laughing again in spite of himself.

She grinned. "I'm Meg."

"Sam."

They shook hands. At the very least, Sam decided ruefully, he had someone interesting to pass the time with.

* * *

Burkitsville, Indiana.

Not the sort of town one would expect to harbor mass murderers or creepy haunted scarecrows, Dean surmised. Still, here he was. And he was pretty sure he was in the right town.

Scotty, owner of the local diner, had been tightlipped. He'd claimed not to recognize the couple that went missing last April. He'd claimed a little too quickly, in fact.

The couple who owned the gas station had said the same. But their daughter or whoever she was had spoken up. She'd remembered the couple. They'd stopped for gas. Not more than ten minutes.

Suddenly, the man who owned the gas station remembered clear as a bell.

He'd given Dean directions back to the Interstate – the directions he'd claimed to have given the missing couple. And so Dean had followed the small family's bread crumbs.

They'd led him to an orchard. An orchard with an EMF reading that was practically off the charts. And here he was, in the orchard, staring up at one creepy ass scarecrow.

"Dude," Dean addressed the stuffed man. "You fugly."

Of course, the scarecrow made no answer.

Dean's eyes were drawn instantly to the scythe in its right hand. From there, he quickly noticed the strange markings on the scarecrow's leathery right arm.

Silent as it was, the scarecrow seemed to be doing plenty of talking.

Frowning, Dean moved an old wooden ladder over to the scarecrow's side and climbed on up for a better look.

It was a tattoo. Dean pulled out the missing person's poster belonging to the husband half of the long searched for couple.

He too had a tattoo on his right arm. The scarecrow's marking was a perfect match.

Suddenly, Dean was pretty damn sure he knew what was going on in Burkitsville, Indiana. And he was also pretty damn sure he didn't like it one bit.

He eyed the scarecrow a moment, his face grave.

"Nice tat," he said.

* * *

Dean had a hard time believing that the townspeople of Burkitsville were even remotely innocent.

Oh, sure. He supposed it was possible. It was possible they didn't know about the freaky scarecrow. It was possible they didn't know he… did something weird to innocent couples every April. Hell, the scarecrow could be causing the cars to crap out, luring the young men and women into its orchard, devouring them and making suits out of their skin all on its own.

But Dean doubted it.

He especially doubted it now. One look at the red pickup being worked on by the gas station man, and he'd known who his villains were. Emily, the gasman's niece, could smile pretty and talk up her nice little boonie-ville all she wanted, but Dean knew there was something wrong with this town. He knew that nobody nowhere could ever be this nice.

And so he'd marched right into Scotty's Diner, his ears full of Emily's babble about her town being blessed and his head full of thoughts of saving this latest young couple from being made sacrificial lambs.

The young couple was seated at a front table, devouring what looked to be quite a spread. The kind of dinner Death Row inmates get their last night before the injection. Scotty, who Dean remembered being quite the opposite of friendly, was fixing the young man and woman with a huge smile and giving them apple pie on the house.

"Hiya, Scotty," he greeted the diner owner with a cocky smirk. Scotty glared at him. "I'll get a coffee, black."

Still glaring, Scotty headed for the kitchen.

Dean plopped down at the next table over from the young couple. "Some of that pie too!" he called after Scotty.

He glanced over at the couple, who ignored him, concentrating on their feast. "How you doing?" he asked, hoping he sounded friendly. "Just passing through?"

They nodded. The man didn't seem too enthused, but the woman was friendlier.

"Road trip," she grinned around a mouthful of pie.

"Mm. Yeah, me too."

The couple returned to their food, leaving Dean to contemplate his next move.

"I'm sure these people want to eat in peace."

Scotty had returned from the kitchen, bearing a pitcher of cider. He refilled the couple's glasses.

"Just a little friendly conversation," Dean replied.

Scotty gave him the skunk eye.

"Oh, and that coffee," he reminded the diner owner.

Still glaring, Scotty slunk off.

"So what brings you to town?" Dean asked the couple.

"We just stopped for gas," the woman replied. "And the guy at the gas station saved our lives."

"That right?"

"Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking," the man spoke up. "We had no idea. So he's fixing it for us."

Dean nodded, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. "Nice people."

"Yeah," the man agreed.

"So how long until you're up and running?"

"Sun down."

That couple needed to be on the road long before then.

"Really? To fix a brake line?" Dean didn't have any trouble sounding skeptical as he leaned towards the other two conspiratorially. "You know, I know a thing or two about cars. I can probably have you up and running in about an hour. Wouldn't charge you anything."

The man was getting uncomfortable. "You know, thanks a lot," his wife cut in. "But I think we'd rather have a mechanic do it."

"Right," Dean smiled.

They smiled back and returned to their food.

"You know, it's just that these roads, they're not real safe. At night."

"I'm sorry?" the woman asked.

Dean could already tell it was a lost cause from the looks they were giving him, but he tried anyway. "I know it sounds strange, but… you might be in danger."

The woman frowned. "We're trying to eat," the man said, giving Dean a nasty look. "Ok?"

"Yeah," Dean said as they turned their backs on him, clearly irritated by his warnings. He stared at the couple's red and white checked tablecloth, suddenly acutely aware of how much he missed his brother. Sam wouldn't have had any trouble convincing these people. "You know," he went on, half to himself. "My brother could give you this puppy-eyed look, and you'd just buy right into it."

The couple looked still more uncomfortable, but Dean barely noticed. He was talking to himself now.

"My friend, Jayne, though," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, she'd probably just hit you."

He got a couple of glares. Then the door to the diner swung open, and in walked the police sheriff.

Dean swore under his breath.

"Thanks for coming out, Sheriff," Scotty said, suddenly appearing from the kitchens and making a beeline for the police officer.

The cop sauntered over to Dean's table, that contemptible cocksure policeman authority oozing from every pore. Dean instantly hated him. "I'd like a word, please," the cop informed him, his hands on his hips.

"Come on," Dean returned in annoyance. "I'm having a bad day already."

The cop leaned into his face. "You don't want to make it worse."

Twenty minutes later, amid flashing lights and whining sirens, Dean was roaring out of town behind the wheel of his Impala, the cop on his tail. He passed the city limits, and the cop pulled over into the dust on the side of the street, turning around precariously, and then speeding back towards town.

Dean turned a corner and then pulled over into the brush, swearing. He parked and banged his head on the back of the seat.

Damn his luck.

He was reaching for his cell before he knew what was happening. He was tired, he was irritated, and he was failing.

He also missed his brother.

He missed Jayne.

Hell, he even missed Lynn.

The cell was out. He flipped it open, scrolling down through the address book. But when he reached Sam's name, he froze. He stared at the screen for a few minutes. Then he cussed again, and chickened out.

But he didn't put the phone away. He scrolled back up, and he called Jayne.

* * *

"All in."

The middle aged man pushed his money forward, looking half certain about the decision he made.

Lynn raised an eyebrow at the man sitting across the table from her. "All in?" she repeated, biting her lower lip.

He smirked. "That's right, little lady."

She eyed her cards and then eyed him. "All in," she agreed with a small nod, and then pushed her money in too.

He was attractive, Lynn's poker partner. His name was Ted, and he had at least ten years on her, but the lines on his face were arranged aesthetically, in the perfect way that an interior decorator arranges throw pillows. He had soft, kind brown eyes, and one hell of a smile. It was the sort of smile she figured Dean Winchester would be wearing ten years down the road.

When Lynn and her stepsister had stepped into Clermont's local hole in the wall late that afternoon, they'd taken a small back table hoping to avoid unwanted attention. Despite that, Ted had sat down mere minutes after they had. He'd asked Lynn her name, her origins, and then bought her a beer. Jayne had left moments later, visibly annoyed. And Lynn, believing it a shame to waste an opportunity, had asked Ted to play a game of poker.

Now Ted was smirking broader. He slapped his cards down on the table. "How do you like that?" he asked triumphantly. "Straight."

Lynn widened her eyes at the cards on the table. "Wow."

He continued to smirk.

Lynn breathed in through her teeth, and then laid out her hand on the table as well. "Well, gee, Ted," she said. "And all I have are these four aces."

Ted was taken aback. He blinked, looking from Lynn's cards to his own.

"I thought you said you weren't so good at this," he accused her, raising an eyebrow.

Lynn shrugged, affecting innocence. "Must be my lucky day."

He shook his head as she scooped up her winnings. "You just about cleaned out my wallet, little lady."

"Sorry," she said, smiling brightly.

Ted got to his feet and gave her another smirk. His eyes roved along her face and her chest. "Pleasure losin' to you, Lynn."

She smiled back. Lynn even found herself eyeing his backside as he walked away from the table and approached the bar.

The scrape of chair legs on the hard floor drew her attention away from the older man, and Lynn turned her head to see Jayne sitting down beside her.

"Flirting with the locals?" Jayne asked.

Lynn smirked. "And taking their money. Look what I won."

She fanned out Ted's bills, her smirk becoming decidedly wicked, and displayed them for the benefit of her sister.

Jayne whistled, eyeing Lynn's winnings. "Well, look at you playing the breadwinner."

"Poker is my game."

Jayne glanced nervously at the entrance to the bar. "He's late."

Lynn glanced at the door as well, and then looked down at her cards. "Maybe he chickened out."

"That bastard," Jayne spat, and Lynn looked up at her in astonishment. "If he drags my ass to Clermont and doesn't show, I will hunt him down and light him on fire."

Finally, after months of worry and non-committal grunts, Jayne was pissed.

They'd arrived in Clermont about two hours earlier. It was after four when they'd left the motel and headed for the bar that Stephen had designated as their meeting place. Granted, they had arrived early. And yet, Lynn had played an entire game of poker since their arrival, and there was still no sign of Stephen.

Lynn wasn't sure what to say to Jayne. She had nothing to offer in the way of comfort, and nothing to add in the way of agreement, so she said nothing. She sipped on the beer that Ted had bought her and nervously shuffled her cards.

Jayne sighed, taking a gulp from her own beer, and wrenched her eyes from the door. She eyed the cards.

Lynn smiled, shrugging. "Go Fish?"

The absurdity of playing a child's card game under the circumstances was enough to pull a smile from her stepsister's tight lips.

"Ok."

Lynn dealt.

Jayne frowned at her cards as Lynn swept her own off the table and tried to figure out her first move.

She glanced at the door.

"Got any threes?" Jayne asked.

Lynn didn't respond right away. She was distracted by the man standing in the open doorway.

He was about Sam's age, but much shorter. A few inches shorter than Jayne, even. He was stocky and muscular. One of those navy mechanic's shirts was visible under his open leather jacket. His jeans were faded and worn out in the knees. Small diamonds hung from his earlobes.

In many ways, he looked the same. Same tanned complexion, same stormy gray eyes, same hard ass glare etched on his face. But he was different, too. He'd grown a goatee. He'd shaved his dark hair off, and now his bald head shone in the overhead light by the door.

"No threes, yes threes… give me a nod or something," Jayne said in annoyance.

Lynn glanced at her sister, and then nodded at the door. "Looks like you won't be lighting anyone on fire just yet," she announced.

Jayne blinked. Her cards slipped from her hands, fluttering down on the tabletop. She turned around to look where Lynn was staring.

Stephen Juarez made his way across the bar, his eyes focused intently on his two sisters.

Lynn swallowed a lump in her throat. She wasn't entirely sure what to do. Her cards hung loosely from her hand. She sat on the edge of her chair, considering getting up and failing to follow through.

Jayne got to her feet. She stood up straight, pushing the chair back with a loud scrape, like a big man with an anger problem itching for a bar brawl. Stephen reached the table, pausing before it, jamming his hands into his pockets.

He chewed the inside of his mouth, eyeing his sisters. His chin was tilted up proudly, attempting to disguise the twitchy fear in his eyes.

She stared at her brother with her mouth open. "Lynn," Stephen nodded at her. He looked at Jayne and visibly tensed. "Jaynie."

Lynn looked up nervously at her stepsister. Jayne's jaw clenched and so did her fists.

Lynn winced.

Stephen smirked the half nervous, half cocky grin he reserved for these types of confrontations. "So, uh… guess it's long time, no see, huh?"

Jayne hauled off and slugged their little brother in the face.


	32. Demons and Vanir

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Big thank yous to Peridot809, Nelle07, legrowl, ThreeMoons, angeleyenc, Strangler000, kazza03, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, deansbabygirl934, Lov3good, tbelle1234, SilentKnightInDisguise11, martine, Padme4000, and Savannah123 for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 32: Demons and Vanir

Every last person in the bar was staring at them.

Jayne didn't feel their eyes. She was unaware of the bartender stepping out from behind the bar, eyeing the scene warily. She didn't notice Lynn stand beside her, darting furtive glances around the room.

She stared at Stephen. He was half lying, half sitting on the floor. He wiped blood from his nostrils with the back of his hand and then squinted up at her.

"Got that off your chest, then?" he asked. "We good now?"

Jayne stared at him a second longer.

"Where the _fuck _have you been?" she hissed.

Stephen got up from the floor, sniffing and dusting off his jeans. "Oh, you know. Here and there. Spent some time around Cali, Vegas, swung down by New Orleans… even saw a riverboat."

"Don't you dare," Jayne spat. "Don't you joke about this, you hear me?"

Stephen shrugged, slinging back his shoulders and holding up his hands. "Who's joking? I like those riverboats."

Her jaw tightened. Her cheek twitched. "You looking to get hit again?"

Stephen smirked, and then dropped the bravado. He shook his head, sucking in his left cheek, and then glanced around the room. "Maybe we should take this somewhere else."

"I agree," Lynn cut in. Both Jayne and Stephen looked at her in surprise. She raised her eyebrow at them, nodding towards the curious bar patrons. "You two are making a spectacle of yourselves."

"Because she _never_ makes a scene," Stephen smirked, catching Jayne's eye.

Jayne couldn't help smirking back. "No," she agreed. "Lynn is Miss Calm and Collected."

"Ha," Lynn practically spat. "Fine. Go on and make fun of me. Pull my pigtails if you have to. Anything that keeps you two getting along and not throwing punches is fine by me."

They lapsed into silence. "Staying at the motel up the road?" Stephen asked.

Jayne nodded once.

"Yeah. Me too." He glanced around the bar. The customers were still eyeing them, but most of them had more or less returned to their drinks by now. They'd turned from open gawking to shooting the three hunters short glances out the corners of their eyes.

"We should leave," Stephen agreed. "I've got some things to say…"

"You got a whole hell of a lot of things to say," Jayne snapped.

Stephen froze up, looking like he wanted to argue, but he resisted. "Yeah," he agreed. "Whole hell of a lot of things to say. But they're not for young ears, you know? And this looks like such a family place."

He smirked again, flashing all his teeth at his older sister. Jayne chewed on the interior of her mouth, not sure if she wanted to hug the brat or punch him again.

"All right," she said slowly. "Let's head to the motel."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Jayne was leaning on the wall in her and Lynn's motel room. Lynn sat on the bed farthest from the door, gripping her knees nervously. Stephen was against the window, his arms folded across his chest, and looking anywhere that wasn't his sisters.

"So…" Lynn spoke. "You said you got some things to say?"

Stephen nodded slowly. "Yeah… um… well, I guess you two are pretty pissed off at me, huh?"

"Pissed off is an understatement."

He chuckled slightly, and then hung his head. "Look, I didn't want to leave the way I did. I didn't want to hurt you, to make you worry…"

Jayne snorted. "You didn't, huh?"

"No," Stephen said seriously, looking her straight in the eye. "I didn't."

Jayne stared evenly back.

Stephen sighed. He shook his head. "Look, that first time I disappeared? When I blacked out? That was for real. I want you to know, that was for real."

"And the second time?" Lynn asked.

"The second time, I took off on my own," Stephen replied without skipping a beat. "I had to. You don't understand."

"Explain," Jayne returned sharply.

Stephen glanced at her, and then took a steadying breath. "Before I called you that first time… well… I'd finally gotten myself together, was trying to figure out where I was and…"

He stopped. He swallowed. "Look, before that shit went down, I was checking out these demonic omens around by Winston-Salem. I caught a whiff, you know? There was… there was a fire."

Jayne and Lynn stared at him, tensing visibly. Jayne got up off her wall. Lynn let go her knees and sat up straighter.

"A fire?" Jayne repeated.

He nodded. "So I went looking. Thought there might be a lead. The last thing I remember is picking up the phone to call you…"

Stephen trailed off, shaking his head. "Then I woke up a couple weeks later in Nebraska with no memory. Called you two, tried to tell you what happened, but… but…"

"But what?" Jayne snapped.

"I don't know!" Stephen snapped back. "You blame me for thinking I went loco?"

There was silence. "No," Lynn said finally. "We don't."

Stephen stared at her for a moment, and then carried on the tale. "The night before I split… I ran into these two demons…."

"What?" Lynn interrupted, her eyes widening.

"Demons, Lynn. Demons," Stephen repeated. "I ran into demons, and… well, let's just say I barely escaped with my life."

"But…" Lynn started. Her brother cut her off.

"I had to go," he told her firmly. "They… they want me dead. The demon that killed Mom… at least, I think it's a demon…"

"It's a demon," Jayne said flatly.

He looked like he wanted to ask questions. He didn't. Instead, he went on with the story. "The demon wants me dead. Don't ask me why. All I can figure is that I got too close, that I…"

He swallowed, squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head. "I must have been on to something. So it wants me dead. And I can't risk that damn thing coming after you two, you understand?"

"After us?" Lynn repeated.

"Bull shit!" Jayne bellowed, stepping forward. Stephen got off the window, facing her down. "How dare you come up here and tell me you split to protect us?"

"I did!"

"You don't have the right!" she shouted at him. "You don't get to decide that!"

"Oh, but you do?" Stephen asked coldly.

She glowered at him.

"You get to decide what to tell me and not to tell me?" he went on. "When I'm old enough to do this and hear that? You get to decide what hunts I hang back on, what guys I don't take on in poker, which fights I steer clear of… hell, you get to put a tracking device _on my car_?!"

"Damn straight!" she returned fiercely. "You're my little brother. It's my right."

"Bull shit!" he snapped, echoing her earlier statement. "If I want to protect my family, I protect my family! You get it?"

"No!" Lynn joined the argument. "No, I don't get it! _We_ don't get it! If something's wrong, Steve, you have to tell us! If you need help…"

"I don't need help!"

"You got some bad ass demon on your butt, and you think you don't need help?" Jayne retorted. "Of course you need help!"

"You don't get it!" Stephen bellowed, slamming his fist into the wall. The loud _bang_ resonated through the motel room. "That thing will come after you, do you understand me? It wants me dead, and it will kill you two to do it! How can I stay with you?"

"I don't care what that thing wants," Jayne returned. "I don't care if it does kill me. All I care about is that it doesn't kill you."

"Well, you just about hit the nail on the head, big sis," Stephen replied in a chilly tone. "I get the ax, well… I had a good run, right? You two get the ax, and well…" he chuckled dryly. "That's a whole other story."

Jayne glared at him, but didn't interrupt.

"Won't let it happen, Jaynie," Stephen told her, shaking his head. "No evil son of a bitch is hunting down my sisters."

There was a short silence.

"But Stephen…" Lynn tried to reason.

"No," he cut her off. "Look, there's only one reason why I came here. Only one reason why I called. Those two demons I mentioned? They caught up to me again, just a few days ago. I shook em loose, but…"

"But what?" Jayne demanded.

He sighed heavily. "Before I got out, they… they told me they knew where you two were."

Lynn and Jayne exchanged a look. "So… what?" Jayne asked. "What does that mean?"

"It means they know where you are!" Stephen shouted. "It means they're keeping tabs on you two! And it means that they will use you two to get to me!"

"And you think this will deter me from looking out for my little brother?" Jayne retorted.

"No," he snapped. "But I thought maybe if you knew the whole story, you'd understand why I bailed!"

There was a short silence. Stephen sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Besides, I needed to warn you two. If these demons know where you are, then you two are in constant danger."

There was a long silence.

"So, I warned you," Stephen finished. "So I'm going to leave. And I don't want you to follow me."

"You are not going anywhere," Jayne replied in a cold, deadly voice.

He sighed. "Jaynie…"

"Don't you Jaynie me," she interrupted. "You are not going anywhere. You are not leaving. You are not vanishing and then not calling for six months so we can lay awake at night worrying about whether you're dead or alive!"

Stephen was effectively silenced. He stood still a moment, opening and closing his mouth without making a sound.

"Now, we are going to sit down and talk about this," Jayne said, taking a deep, steadying breath. "These two demons want you? Fine. Between the three of us, we ought to be able to put them down."

"There's more where they came from," Stephen replied.

"Then we'll put them all down," Jayne snapped. "As many as they can throw at us."

"And the big man?" Stephen retorted. "Eventually, he's going to come after me."

"Good. We've been waiting a long time to put him down."

Stephen shook his head, rubbing his temples. "He's more than we can handle Jaynie. He's not going to be easy to get rid of."

"All right," Jayne returned. "We'll call for backup."

"Back up?"

Jayne looked at Lynn. Lynn understood what her stepsister was thinking before Jayne even opened her mouth. "We'll call Dean and Sam."

Stephen blinked, looking from one sister to the other. "Who?"

Jayne was already digging her cell phone out her pocket. Lynn looked at her brother. "I don't suppose you remember slapping the tracker under a black Chevy Impala?"

Stephen frowned. "What, you mean that old busted piece next to my Bird back in Palo Alto?"

"It's not busted," Jayne snapped unexpectedly, flipping her phone open.

Stephen frowned again, looking over his shoulder at Lynn. Lynn shrugged.

"Crap," Jayne hissed.

"What's the matter?" Lynn asked.

Jayne waved at her to be quiet, hitting a button on the phone and holding it up to her ear.

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Uh… someone want to tell me what's going on here?"

"No offense, Steve," Lynn returned. "But I'm not so sure you're in any position to complain about being left out of the loop."

"All right, all right," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I might have deserved that."

"Might?"

"Ok, definitely. But, um… this Dean and Sam…?"

Lynn sighed. "They own the Impala you put the tracker on. By the way? Not cool."

"Yeah, well, putting a tracker on my car in the first place? Equally not cool."

"Well, maybe if you'd stop vanishing in the dead of night..."

Stephen scratched the back of his head again and sighed. "Look, can we not fight right now? Tell me about these two jokers."

Lynn sighed again too. "Ironically enough… they're hunters, just like us. Their names are Sam and Dean Winchester, and… and they lost their mom just like we lost Ana."

Stephen blinked. "What, you mean like…?"

"The fire, Ana being pinned to the ceiling, your six month birthday… yeah. All that. Only difference is that it was Sam's six month birthday."

"Wow."

Stephen looked immensely troubled. But before Lynn could ask what was on his mind now, Jayne spoke up.

"Those idiots!"

Both Lynn and Stephen turned to her in surprise.

She shook her head. "Sam and Dean split up!"

"What?" Lynn exclaimed.

"Sam bailed on his brother and decided to hitchhike to California!"

"_What_?"

"Seriously, could those two have worse timing?" Jayne spat. She marched towards the door, still preoccupied with her phone. "Hang on, I have to call Dean back."

Lynn frowned incredulously after her stepsister. Jayne froze on the other side of the threshold and poked her head back in the room, leveling a stern, threatening finger in Stephen's direction.

"Don't you move," she ordered. Then she disappeared into the parking lot.

"Looks like I'm under house arrest," Stephen joked, sounding mildly resentful.

"You deserve it," Lynn retorted. "You also deserve a good kick in the ass, but… I'm too tired to beat the snot out of you."

"So you're mad too?"

"Of course I'm mad!" Lynn practically exploded. "You ditched us, Steve! You vanished, knowing we would worry about you, knowing we'd be trying to find you… and it never occurred to you to even pick up the phone! How could you do that to us?"

There was a long silence. Stephen shoved his hands in his coat pockets and leaned back against the wall. "I'm sorry, Lynn," he sighed.

"Are you?" she snapped.

"Yeah," he nodded, staring at the lamp behind her. "I really am. I just… I was scared. I had these big bads after me, and… and all I could think about was the danger I was putting you two in, just by being around you!"

"You always were a dumbass," Lynn retorted.

He looked up slowly at her, raising an eyebrow. An amused grin began forming on his face. "See, now that? That right there? I missed that."

"Well, good," she replied. "Next time you decide to do something stupid like running away, remember this moment. Think about all the moments like this that you'll miss out on if you're hiding in Canada somewhere."

"I wasn't in Canada."

"I don't see how that's important."

They lapsed into a long silence.

"Jayne's right," Lynn told him. "She is. You don't have to run, ok? Jayne and I are big girls. Hunters. And whatever's after you? We can hack it. We need to stick together Steve. That's the only way we're going to get these guys."

Stephen sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Lynn…"

"Listen to me," she said seriously. "This running away and isolating yourself? It's stupid. Really stupid."

"Yeah, well…"

"You make an 'I was always a dumbass' comment, and I'm going to find the energy to kick you in the ass."

Stephen sighed again, and then looked her in the eye. "I don't want to be the reason you two get hurt."

"Too bad."

They were quiet again.

"All right," Stephen said finally. "Let's try it."

"As if you had a say in the matter."

"I tell you, it is _good_ to be back with the family."

* * *

Dean sat behind the wheel of his Impala, parked outside the Burkitsville orchard. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, nodding along to the music playing softly on the car radio.

He watched the dark road that led into town, waiting for a red pickup truck. Tomorrow, he'd do research. Tomorrow he'd kill the big bad. But tonight, he was saving a couple of innocents.

His phone rang.

Dean froze.

Actually believing for a moment that his brother was calling, Dean dug the phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen.

It was Jayne.

For a moment, Dean was disappointed. But that disappointment soon vanished as it sank in that Jayne was actually calling him back. Was it anywhere near possible that she wasn't pissed anymore?

"Hey, Goldilocks," he answered the phone.

"You are a fucking moron."

He blinked. Then he chuckled. "Damn, is it good to hear _your_ voice again."

"You let Sam leave?"

"Hey, he wanted to go. It's not like I need him, right?"

"Right. You don't need him. Sure. Because, you know, you're not a total idiot."

"Nope. I'm a genius."

"A genius at getting yourself in trouble."

"Look who's talking."

"Don't even start. Your track record is _way _worse than mine."

"Look, Sam left. Too late to do anything about it now. I just wanted to give you a heads up. He's headed to California, so… maybe you can look him up, make sure he's all right, that kind of thing. Work together."

"Actually, I can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm not in California. I'm no where near California. In fact, I seriously doubt I'm going to California."

"Why the hell not? What happened?"

She sighed. Dean frowned. "Um… well, we got a phone call. Took us off track."

"Who was it?"

Jayne sighed again. "My brother."

Dean was silent for a moment, letting her answer sink in. "Your brother?" he repeated.

"Yeah, Dean, that's what I said."

"So, um… what? He all right?"

"Yeah. He's fine. I mean… well, he's not dead. Not injured. Just…"

"Where is he?"

"We just met up with him in Iowa. He wanted to talk."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"What do you mean?"

"He split? He ditched you? And now he wants to talk?"

"Dean…"

"Did you at least punch him?"

She laughed a little. "Uh… yeah, actually…"

Dean frowned, taken aback. Then he chuckled a little too. "You did?"

"Yeah, well..."

"You know, Goldilocks, most of the time you are a colossal pain in my ass… but sometimes? You really are awesome."

"Thanks. I think."

"So what's the deal?"

"Well… look, how's that case coming?"

"Oh, well… I'm closing in, I think. Seems like these couples are sacrificial offerings, you know? Like the townspeople are serving them up to some big-time pagan god?"

"The townspeople?"

"Yeah. It's this podunk place in Indiana called Burkitsville… anyway, these people, man. They are one weird bunch, you know? And there's this couple? They're fixing their car? I don't know… they're road-tripping. And when I saw them at the local diner… well, what a spread. Like a, well…

"Like a last meal kind of deal?"

"Exactly. Plus there's this orchard? You should see this scarecrow they got out there. It is one freaky looking sucker."

"What, so you think the scarecrow's the god?"

"I don't know, maybe… maybe it's like a vessel for the god, you know?"

"Well, how are you going to kill a god?"

"I'm working on it."

"You're working on it?"

"Yeah, Goldilocks, I'm working on it. Don't sweat it – I got a plan."

"Right. Sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"So what did your brother have to say?"

There was a silence. "Um… well, that's kind of the reason I'm calling you."

"Really?" Dean asked, smirking. "And I thought you just called to tell me I was an idiot."

"There were multiple reasons."

"Ha."

"Look, Stephen… Stephen said he had a lead on the demon."

Dean was quiet for a moment. "_The_ demon?"

"Yeah. _The_ demon."

"You mean, he…"

"He lost it, I think. He… said he got too close or something. That he thinks the Big Bad got anxious? Long story short, there's these two demons trying to kill him."

"What?"

"Yeah, that's why he split. Said he didn't want to put us in danger or some stupid shit like that. Way he talks, he wouldn't have even bothered coming to talk to us _now_ if these demons hadn't... well, I guess they caught up to him recently. He slipped loose, but before he did they… they told him they knew where we were. Where Lynn and I were. And he got all freaked out and decided he had to warn us. I don't know. The kid wants to take off again, but I'm not letting that happen."

"Wait," Dean said, frowning again. He knew she couldn't see the frown, but it came through in his voice. "Are you telling me that these two bad ass demons are coming after _you_?"

"No, I'm telling you that Stephen _thinks_ these two bad ass demons are coming after us. Personally, I ain't that worried about it."

Her flippant response irked Dean. He felt his jaw tighten. "Well, maybe you should be," he retorted. "What if they do come after you, huh? What then?"

"Then I put them down," she replied evenly. "And that's two less demons for me to worry about."

"You're downright reckless, you know that?"

"You think I should just sit back and let those two bitches from Hell kill my little brother? I don't think so, Dean!"

She was furious. Dean could feel the angry vibrations of her voice coming through over the phone. He could picture the deadly glower she so often wore when they argued… he felt like she was sitting right in the car with him.

"You know damn well that's the last thing I mean," he retorted. "Calm down, woman! I'm not saying you shouldn't look out for the kid, I'm not saying you shouldn't be there to protect him… all I'm saying is maybe you ought to be just a tad worried about yourself!"

She didn't answer right away. He pressed on. "I mean, I'm going to be worried about you."

Again, she didn't answer right away. When she did, she sounded uncomfortable. "Why would you… no one asked you to worry about me, Dean."

"Well, we're friends, right?" he replied. "And that's what friends do."

She sighed. "Dean, look… my brother is really freaked out. He told me that these two demons won't be the last. That someday the demon we've been hunting all our lives might come chasing after him himself."

Dean didn't know what to say. She kept talking. "I just… he's worried. He thinks he's putting Lynn and me in danger by sticking around, and he's not sure we can handle all this ourselves… which is bullshit, you understand."

He smiled slightly. "Oh, yeah. I comprende."

"So… I told him I would call in some backup."

"Backup?"

"Listen, I know… I know you promised your Dad you'd keep out of this. I know he told you he didn't want you anywhere near this mess with the demon… I understand if you don't want to help. I just thought… bad as it sounds… that Stephen might be our in? He might lead the demon to us? And maybe you'd want to be there when…"

"When the shit hits the fan?"

"Yeah."

Dean's teeth grazed his lower lip. He stared out the windshield for a moment, not answering. Finally, he said:

"And maybe help you out when the other demons come? Be your backup and all that?"

"I didn't say… look, you don't have to."

"Oh, I want to," he replied. "You think I'd let you guys down? That I wouldn't show when you need me?"

"I don't need…"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before."

"So… should we try to work something out here?"

"Come to Burkitsville," he told her. "All three of you. Help me wrap up this case. And then from there… well, between you, me, and Lynn, I'd say we can keep your brother safe. And maybe we can hook up with Sam again. I'm sure he'd want in on this."

"Yeah." She sounded almost excited. "Yeah, we could do that. And then maybe we could wait those things out? You know, kind of lure them to us and set a trap? Exorcise the two demons on Stephen's ass?"

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, starting to get excited too. "Maybe if I call my Dad… leave another voicemail… maybe he'll change his mind."

"Yeah. We should try it. And maybe we could drop in on Rufus."

"Definitely."

They were quiet a moment. "So… you going to come to Burkitsville tomorrow?" Dean asked.

"Yes," she told him, determined. "We'll be there."

"Call me when you get in."

"You got it."

"I'll see you then."

"We'll be there."

"Ok. And Goldilocks? Be careful."

"Right back at you. You fucking idiot."

She hung up. Dean smiled slightly, hanging up as well and then eyeing his phone.

For a moment, he felt hope.

* * *

"So these Winchesters," Stephen murmured as he paced the motel room. "You've been hunting with them?"

Lynn nodded. "Yeah."

"And they've been gunning after the same big bad we were?"

"Again, yeah."

Stephen shook his head, still pacing. He didn't look happy about this new development. "And here I was, thinking I was keeping you two safe? Instead, I've gone and thrown you right back in the fire."

"For the last time, no one needs you to keep them safe," Lynn retorted. "For another thing, this might actually be good. I mean, it hasn't been exactly terrible, knowing the Winchesters."

"Oh yeah?" Stephen asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. They've helped us out a time or two, and vice versa. Sam flat out saved my life in Stamping Ground."

"He did?"

"Yeah. Rufus called us up, saying you had stopped by…"

"Damn it," Stephen said, shaking his head. "I knew he was going to do that."

"Anyway, some demons decided to nest on the property," Lynn finished. "They took root in the walls. And they tried to light me on fire."

"_What_?"

"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. If we hadn't known Sam, I might not be here right now. The boy saved my life. Pulled me out of the fire."

Stephen shook his head again. "See, now that's exactly why I left! You weren't even _with_ me! You were in a place I had once _been_, and you nearly died!"

"Stephen, don't you start."

"Look, Lynn, maybe I ought to hit the road again…"

"Don't you even think about it!"

Stephen sighed, and took a seat on the bed beside her. "So this Winchester chump saved your ass, huh?"

"Yep. Dean's helped us out too. He's saved Jayne's life twice, actually."

"Really? Jayne let someone save her life?"

Lynn laughed. "Yeah, well, that's the thing about Dean. No one 'lets' him do anything."

Stephen chuckled slightly. "What, so he swoops in and plays hero whether she likes it or not?"

Lynn frowned, thinking about it. "Yeah. I guess that's exactly what he does." She laughed again. "He even fixed Janis."

"What?" Stephen asked, laughing. "Jaynie let him touch Janis?"

"Nope," Lynn replied, still giggling. "He just did it."

"And he's still alive?"

"Go figure."

"Wow," Stephen shook his head again. "She must like him."

"Sometimes I think she does," Lynn replied, smiling slightly.

They were quiet a minute. "Well, he's got to be better than Hannigan, right?" Stephen finally said. "I hate that bastard."

Lynn laughed. "He's Danny, Stephen! What has Danny ever done to any of us?"

"He touched my sister!"

"She touched him back!"

"Gross! Stop right there; I do not need that image in my head!"

"Danny's really not such a bad guy, Steve."

"Well I don't like him. And if Jaynie finally moves on with someone else – _anyone_ else – I'll be happy. Even if it is this yahoo who drives a crappy car."

Lynn frowned. "What, you think Jayne's going to do something with Dean?"

"You just said you think she likes him!"

"Yeah, well, as friends. Kind of."

"Yeah, well, in my experience? Danny never even got to fix Janis."

"Danny doesn't know how to fix Janis."

"Please. He drives a Harley. Everyone knows you need to be a goddamn mechanic to drive one of those beasts."

"Says who?"

"Everyone!"

They were quiet again.

"You know, I wonder if Jayne and Dean actually do… well, you know," Lynn said finally. "Like you were saying."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But that would just be creepy."

"How come?"

Lynn blushed.

"Oh, no. You are not hooking up with the little brother!"

"What if I am?"

"Lynn!"

"Ok, I'm not," she admitted.

Stephen made a face. "But you want to?"

She sighed. "Oh, so much."

"You know, this is one thing I do not miss about hunting with the two of you," Stephen announced. "It was so nice not knowing who you two were sleeping with. Seriously – you all are my sisters, and I'd like to believe neither of you so much as takes your clothes off."

Lynn slapped him on the arm. "Tough luck, kiddo. I got needs."

"Yeah, well, you keep that kind of talk up, and I'm gonna _need_ to go vomit."

They fell quiet again. Lynn stared at the pattern on the forest green bedspread. Stephen jiggled his leg nervously.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Dad ever tell you about my mom?"

Stephen gave her an incredulous look. "You kidding me? Dad never told me crap about crap."

Lynn laughed slightly. "Yeah. I know."

"If he told anyone anything, it was probably Jaynie."

"I already asked. She's got nothing."

Stephen nodded, pursing his lips and widening his eyes ever so slightly. He turned from her just a little too quickly and gazed absently at the other bed.

"What?" Lynn demanded.

He blinked, startled. "What?" he repeated.

"What was the face?"

"I didn't make no face."

"You made a face. What was the face?"

"There was no face!"

"Steve," Lynn intoned, her voice deadly. "What was the face?"

Stephen sighed. "Look, I'm sure Jaynie's telling the truth."

"What do you mean you're sure Jaynie's telling the truth?"

"I'm just saying… Look, I love the girl. I do. But when it comes to Dad, well… I mean, you know how Jaynie is."

Lynn looked at the floor.

"Anything Dad said? She was on it. Anything Dad did? She was for it. When it came to Dad, well… sure, she loves us. But his wishes will always trump ours. You know that, Lynn. You know that if Jaynie knew something, and she also knew Dad didn't want you or me to know, that she would never breathe a word about any of it to either of us. She will take his secrets to the grave."

There was a long silence.

"So you think she's lying to me?"

Stephen shook his head. "Nah," he said, giving her a smile. "I don't think she's lying."

They were quiet again. "Why you asking about your mom anyway?" Stephen asked. "What is it you want to know?"

Lynn shrugged and sighed. "I don't… promise you won't tell Jaynie?"

"You kidding?" Stephen returned, smirking. "You want me to not tell Jaynie something? Have you seen how pissed that girl is at me? I'll do anything to make up, even if I have to tell her every last one of your dirty little secrets."

Lynn shoved him. "Kiss ass."

"Just tell me what's up, Lynn."

She sighed again. "A little while back, we were hunting this poltergeist, and… and, well, we ended up working the job with this psychic. Her name was Missouri Mosley."

"A psychic, huh?"

"Oh, she was the real deal," Lynn assured him. "She could tell me what I was thinking before I even knew myself. Literally a mind reader."

Stephen nodded, looking only slightly less skeptical.

"Anyway, she made this comment about my mom? Not anything concrete, you know? Nothing that should make me wonder, but even still…"

"It's got you wondering," Stephen finished.

"Yeah. Exactly."

They were quiet for a long time.

"Maybe we could do a little digging," Stephen suggested. "Root around the county records office or something?"

"Maybe." Lynn sighed, shaking her head. "Honestly, I've been trying to work up the nerve to do that for nearly a month, and… well, I guess I'm just too damn chicken-shit. I'm… I'm kind of scared to know."

They were quiet again.

"Well," Stephen said finally. "I'm sure that won't last long."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you are way too damn nosy to be afraid of any sort of knowledge for any lengthy period of time."

"Shut up."

The door to the motel room swung open. "All right," Jayne announced, stomping in and slamming the door behind her. "Here's the plan. We're heading to Burkitsville tomorrow morning."

"What?" Lynn asked.

"Where?" Stephen added.

"We're going to Burkitsville," Jayne replied. "We'll meet up with Dean, help dumbass wrap up his case, and then we'll try and meet up with Sam."

"Uh… why?" Stephen asked.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Jayne snapped. "I told you, we are going to work this shit out. We are going to put down those damn mercenaries, and then we are going to put down that evil son of a bitch who killed our mother! And since you're all fired up concerned about that demon being too much handle, we're calling in backup."

"And this Sam and Dean are our backup?" Stephen returned.

Jayne shrugged. "You think up anyone else, you can let me know."

"The Hannigans," Lynn said quietly.

"Ok, fine," Jayne said, shrugged again. "We'll call them up too."

"Too?" Stephen repeated. "Look, maybe I missed out on getting to know the boy wonders…"

"People tend to miss a lot of things when they bail on their families and don't call for six months," Jayne retorted.

Lynn winced. Stephen narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine. I deserve that. But I also deserve to know why these two boys are suddenly our number one allies. Why all of a sudden they're on the top of our contact list? Why they're automatically involved in our private family business?"

"Because that evil bastard took their mother too!" Jayne snapped.

Stephen blinked, taken a back. He stared at Jayne.

"Because they deserve a chance to put that thing down same as we do," she went on, slightly calmer. "Because we're all in the same shit. And because if the tables were turned, they'd call us up too. They'd let us in on this suicide mission."

She swallowed, running her tongue over her front teeth. "In fact, they already have."

There was another silence. Lynn and Stephen eyed their older sister warily, not sure what to expect. Jayne looked at them straight. "So tomorrow we're heading to Burkitsville. We're helping Dean out, and then hopefully we're meeting up with Sam. Lynn, you better call up that stubborn bastard and explain things to him."

Lynn automatically paled. She swallowed. "What?"

Jayne frowned at her. "You got hair product in your ears or something?"

Lynn ignored the snarky swipe. "Why do _I_ have to call Sam? Why can't _you_ call Sam?"

Jayne's frown deepened. "Why wouldn't you call Sam?"

"It's not that I wouldn't, I just… look, I just don't understand why I have to."

"Well someone has to do it. I don't understand why you're putting up such a fight."

"I can't call Sam."

"Why not?"

"I… I just can't, all right?"

Jayne stared at her. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Lynn fidgeted under her sister's hard look. "What?"

"Is this about what happened yesterday? Back in Rockford?"

"Whoa," Stephen interjected. "What happened yesterday in Rockford?"

"So you kissed the idiot," Jayne pushed on, ignoring her brother. "So the idiot didn't respond the way you wanted him to. So what? Pull your shit together, woman, and do your job! We've got demons on our asses, allies to meet up with, and one evil son of a bitch to kill! Swallow your fucking pride, and call Samantha!"

Stephen blinked, turning to Lynn. "Your boyfriend's name is Samantha?"

Lynn let loose an earsplitting, aggravated shriek. "Fine!" she shouted, digging her phone out of her jeans. "Fine! I'll call stupid fucking Sam!"

She stormed to the door and flung it open. Before stomping out into the parking lot, she turned and fixed her stepsister with a withering glare. "You are an unbelievable, hard-headed and _insensitive_… well, you're just an insensitive prig!"

Then she marched outside and slammed the door.

Stephen and Jayne stood still in the motel room for a moment, completely silent.

Finally, Stephen raised an eyebrow. "You trying to play Cupid, big sis?"

Jayne scoffed. "No."

He raised his eyebrow higher.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Maybe." She eyed the wall behind the two beds for a moment, and then sighed. "I suck at it, don't I?"

Stephen nodded. "Hardcore."

* * *

Sam couldn't sleep.

Of course, he'd expected that. He couldn't even sleep under the best of circumstances: completed case, comfortable motel bed, full stomach... why would he expect to sleep on the hard floor of a noisy, under-heated bus station?

He leaned against the wall. Meg was sleeping. He watched her enviously. They had a lot in common, him and Meg… but insomnia was not a part of their common ground.

Actually, talking to Meg had been rather refreshing, he reflected, thinking back on the conversation they'd had over dinner. He hadn't expected to find so much in common with the young hitchhiker. The things she'd said about her family – that they'd loved her and she'd loved them, but she couldn't let them control her anymore – well, he knew exactly how she felt. His whole life had been this way; his father and his brother bossing him around – even though they meant well. He couldn't take it. It was why he'd left the first time, gone to Stanford…

But everything had changed after Jessica. After she'd died… well, hitting the road with Dean had seemed like the only option. How else was he supposed to kill the thing that killed her?

He'd been a fool to think things would be different this time. That he could hunt with Dean again, with his father again, and that they would treat him as an equal – not like some kid who needed to be taken care of, bossed around. They loved him. He didn't doubt that for a minute. But they would never let him be his own person.

Sam glanced at Meg again. They understood one another. They had the same problems – well, kind of.

He couldn't shake the thought that Lynn would hate her.

He wasn't sure why he thought this. He wasn't sure what it was about Meg that he was convinced Lynn would despise. But he somehow knew that she would hate her.

Lynn was a puzzle herself. In a way, she was him and Meg, just a few years older. She'd gone through the same things. And yet, she hadn't turned on _her_ family. She was still hunting with Jayne. She was still tracking Stephen. And she didn't show signs of stopping anytime soon.

Lynn was him, without the ability to break free. She couldn't see past family loyalty and obligation in order to see what she wanted or needed. She'd given up on her dreams to keep Jayne company while the older woman hunted herself into the grave.

And as much as Sam loved his brother, he would not do that. He would not give up everything just because Dean was lonely.

Leaving Dean for good… it would hurt. It would hurt Sam because it would hurt Dean. But as much as Sam would die for Dean, he wouldn't live for him. He wouldn't be Lynn.

Sam shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. When it came to Lynn, everything was a mess. Ever since that kiss… well, he liked her. He did. And he enjoyed the kiss.

It wasn't anything against Lynn. A part of him wanted the same things she did. But the other part of him… the other part of him couldn't stand the thought of betraying Jessica.

Suddenly, his cell phone rang.

Sam jumped slightly at the unexpected trill. Then he quickly answered it without looking at the display screen, hoping to avoid waking up Meg.

"Hello?"

"Just so you know, the only reason I'm calling you is because Jayne is making me."

It was Lynn.

Sam frowned. "Um… uh… ok…"

"I don't want you to think that I'm calling you for any other reason. This is strictly business."

"Uh… well, all right."

"Good. Because my brother called me, and Jayne and I met him in Iowa, and now we're kind of sticking together."

To say that Sam was surprised was an understatement. "Lynn, that's great!"

"Yeah. Thanks. Anyway, he's fine, but… but these demons are after him? And they're working for the demon that killed my stepmom."

"What?"

"Yeah. And… well, Jayne called Dean and Dean told her that you two split up, and then he agreed to help us, so… anyway, Dean and Jayne thought maybe you would want in on it too. Because, you know, Stephen might lead the demon to us?"

Sam was momentarily at a loss for words. When he regained speech, he asked, in an incredulous tone, "Are you offering up your brother as bait?"

"No," Lynn snapped. "I'm not doing anything of the sort. If I had any control over this, Stephen would be locked away safe and sound in a tower somewhere. But I don't have any control over this. These demons want my brother dead – and apparently, they answer to the big bad that you and I want dead. And that big bad will track my brother until he kills him. So… I say we kill him first. You in?"

For a moment, Sam didn't say anything. He wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure whether he was in or not.

On the one hand, Lynn and her stepsister sounded like they needed him. Their brother was in danger. And if the demon that killed Jess was really after Stephen, then sticking with Lynn and her family might be the quickest way to get to the bad guy. But at the same time, he was _so_ close to getting to California. California – where his father was. And his father was on the demon's tail.

"I, um… let me think about it, ok?"

There was a silence. "Ok," Lynn said finally. "I get it."

"Lynn," he replied, maybe a little too quickly. "I just mean… I'm so close to finding my Dad."

"I know," she said. "I get it."

They were quiet again. "But if you need help," he told her. "If you need anything… call me."

"Right," Lynn replied. "Of course. Thanks."

They were quiet again.

"Bye, Sam," she said.

"Bye…"

She'd already hung up the phone.

* * *

Dean had done it.

He had sucked it up and called his brother.

It had taken a lot of pride-swallowing, but he'd done it. After talking to Jayne the night before, well… he'd had to.

See, they could use Sam's help if they were going to protect Stephen Juarez. Kill some demons.

But more importantly – and _damn _was this hard to admit – well, Jayne could lose her brother any day. The boy was literally being hunted. And after Dean had hung up the phone, two things had haunted him the rest of the night.

The first was the thought that Stephen Juarez was right. That the demons after him might go after his sisters. And that meant Jayne could die.

Which was a weird thing to be worried about. But she was his friend, and Dean didn't have many of those… even if she was a colossal pain in the ass.

The other thought was that Sam could be in danger too. Sam was going off hunting for that evil son of a bitch, and that meant a whole hell of a lot of trouble for Dean's little brother.

The least he could do was say goodbye.

So he'd called. He'd made amends. And he'd given Sam his blessing – go forth young Skywalker, and all that sickeningly sweet crap.

And he felt a little better about things now. Did he still miss Sam? Yeah. Did he wish Sam was coming back? Yeah. Was he worried about the kid? Big time.

But Sam needed his space. He'd always known what he wanted, and he always went after it. It was time for Dean to step back and let Sam do his thing.

Besides, it wasn't like Dean would be alone. He'd have Jayne, and her sister, and even her brother. They needed his help, and they weren't putting up a fight about accepting it. They needed him a hell of a lot more than Sam did right now.

And so did countless young newlywed road-trippers. So Dean was going to ice this nasty scarecrow bitch once and for all.

The night before, that fugly scarecrow had climbed down off its cross and chased Dean and the young couple from Scotty's across the orchard, all the way back to their cars.

So today, Dean was doing some research. He was going to find out exactly what that scarecrow was, and he was going to find out how to kill it. And that's why he was currently walking through the library of a local community college, and talking to a mythology professor.

"It's not everyday I get a question on pagan idolatry," the professor was saying.

"Well, call it a hobby," Dean replied.

"But you said you were interested in local lore?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Well, I'm afraid Indiana isn't really known for pagan worship."

"But what if it was imported?" Dean asked. "Like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn't a lot of this area settled by immigrants?"

"Well, yes…"

"Like that town near here. Burkitsville. Where are their ancestors from?"

"Uh, Northern Europe, I believe. Scandinavia."

"Well, what can you tell me about those pagan gods?"

"Oh, well there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses."

"I'm actually looking for one. Might live in an orchard."

This prompted the professor to ramble on about woods gods, and drag Dean over to a nearby table. Then he whipped out one big ass, leather-bound book.

"Woods god. Well, let's see…" he mumbled, flipping through the pages.

But Dean stopped him.

"Wait, wait, wait a minute," he said, gesturing at a picture of pagan worshippers surrounding a scarecrow type idol. "What's that one?"

"Oh, that's not a woods god, per say…"

"A Vanir?" he asked. The man nodded. Dean read aloud from the book. "The Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping local settlements safe from harm. Villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields; some villages practiced human sacrifice of one male, one female."

Dean looked up at the professor, gesturing at the picture. "Kind of looks like a scarecrow, huh?"

The man laughed nervously. "I suppose so…"

Dean kept reading. "This particular Vanir has energy sprung from a scared tree?"

"Well, pagans believed all sorts of things were infused with magic."

"So what would happen if the sacred tree was torched?" Dean asked. "You thin it would kill the god?"

The professor laughed a little. "Son, these are just legends we're discussing here."

Of course, Dean knew better.

"Right," he returned. "Of course. You're right."

He glanced down at the book one last time, and then shook the professor's hand. "Listen, thank you. Very much."

"Glad I could help…"

Dean headed for the door. He pulled it open, anxious to get out looking for that sacred tree.

On the other side of the door was the Burkitsville sheriff. Before Dean could act, the butt of a huge rifle came crashing down into his face.

Pain exploded through his skull. Dean toppled backward, hit the floor, and then everything went black.

* * *

"You never told me how that phone call went with Sam."

Lynn froze in the middle of folding a shirt. She looked up from where she was packing her duffel on her bed, and glanced across the motel room at her stepsister. Jayne was watching her expectantly.

"So?" Jayne asked. "What did Sam say?"

Lynn shrugged, and returned her gaze to her duffel. She went on packing. "He said he'd think about it."

There was a pause. "He'll think about it?" Jayne repeated, incredulous.

Lynn shrugged again. "Yeah. He's going to think about it. Oh, but the good news? If we ever need anything, we can call him."

Jayne paused again. Lynn could see her standing motionless on the other side of the room from the corner of her eye. She ignored her, concentrating on her packing.

"Well, he sucks," Jayne said finally.

Lynn laughed a little. "Yeah. Maybe. Or maybe he just wants to find his dad."

Jayne stood still a moment longer, and then shrugged. "Well, fine. Whatever. We don't need him."

"No," Lynn agreed, zipping up her bag. "We don't need him at all."

Jayne returned to her own duffel and continued her own packing. "We need to be hitting the road soon," she announced. "Go see if Stephen's ready to go."

Lynn nodded, and then headed out of the room.

It was slightly chilly outside, and Lynn shoved her hands into her sweatshirt pocket, trying to keep warm. She walked down to her brother's room and knocked.

The motel room door swung open. Stephen nodded at her and then headed back inside the room. Lynn followed him in, shutting the door behind her.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

"Almost," Stephen replied. He made his way to the king sized bed in the center of the room where is duffel sat wide open, and shoved a few more things inside of it.

"How far away is this Burkitsville place?" he asked.

"About eight, nine hours."

"Awesome."

Lynn sat down on the bed, across from the duffel bag. "Jaynie's itching to leave. Dean hasn't been picking up the phone this morning, and she's adamant that means he went and did something stupid."

Stephen laughed a little. "What do you think?"

"Well, it's Dean," Lynn returned. "So… yeah. She's probably right."

He laughed again.

Lynn sighed. "Stephen, I don't want to sound preachy or nagging or anything, but…"

"I know," he interrupted. "Family sticks together and all that. I need to stick this out. Dean will help. So will Rufus and Deedee and the idiot. And hell, maybe even your little boyfriend will lend us a helping hand."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Don't bet on it."

He raised his eyebrow at her inquisitively.

"Don't ask," she returned, holding up her hand.

He smirked, looking back down at his bag. "Maybe you're right," Stephen murmured.

He folded another shirt and tucked it in the bag. Then he tugged on the zipper. Finally, he looked up from his packing once again and stared her straight in the eye.

"Maybe running was stupid."

There was a knock on the door.

Lynn sighed again. "Probably Jayne."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Impatient, ain't she?"

He walked to the door and opened it wide. Instantly, he froze.

Lynn craned her neck in the direction of the door. Standing framed in the motel room entrance were two people: a man and a woman. The man was tall, dark, and unshaven. His serious expression was rigid, fixed… like it was carved from stone.

The woman had long, wavy, bouncy black hair. She was pale and rosy cheeked like a china doll, and she had bright, fiery blue eyes. Her red painted lips were pulled into an almost seductive smirk.

"Stephen Juarez," the grave faced man said, staring Lynn's brother down.

Stephen frowned, feigning confusion. He poked his head out the door ever so slightly, looking first one way, and then the other. Straightening up, he shrugged at his two visitors and flashed them a grin that showed off every last one of his perfect white teeth.

"Sorry, amigo, wrong room," he smirked at the unsmiling man. "The name's Philbin. Regis Philbin."

His expression still fixed, the man at the door slowly tilted his head to the side, his eyes never leaving Stephen's face.

Lynn got slowly to her feet, reaching for the Glock in her waistband. Every last nerve in her body was tingling in alarm.

The china doll on the strange man's arm threw her head back and laughed, tossing her long black hair.

"Oh, sweet pea, if that don't beat all," she chuckled, her voice a buttery southern drawl. Lynn swallowed, the woman's sugary sweet tones sending instant shivers up and down her spine.

"Regis Philbin," repeated the real-life southern belle. "What a hoot. I'll have to remember that one."

Stephen tensed, his fingers twitching at his sides. She leaned towards him, one arm reaching up and grabbing the top of the doorframe.

"What's a matter, Steve-o, baby doll?" she asked, fluttering her lashes. "Don't you remember me? I'll be plum devastated if you don't."

Stephen stepped back from the door. "Lynn," he said through gritted teeth. "Bathroom."

What Stephen meant by that, of course, was bathroom window. Lynn recognized at once that her brother was telling her to run.

"No thanks," she replied, stepping closer to him. Her fingers closed over the gun in her jeans, but she didn't dare draw just yet. "I'm good."

The woman's eyes lighted on Lynn. Instantly, those fiery baby blues flared up, and her mouth puckered in an approving 'o.'

"Well, well, what do we have here?" she asked, licking her red lips. "And what is _your_ name, brown sugar?"

"Not now," the man snapped at her, his face still rigid and emotionless. He looked Stephen dead in the eye. "You going to come on out, Stephen? Or am I coming in?"

Stephen chuckled in mock-sheepishness, scratching the back of his neck while his free hand gestured helplessly around the room. "Well, gee, if you insist," he replied in his best imitation of a flustered housewife. "I mean, it's just that the place is such a mess… I haven't even had time to vacuum…"

Suddenly the wind picked up outside, whistling through the parking lot. Papers were whisked off the dresser, whipping around the tiny room. The bedclothes flapped up and down in the breeze.

The salt before the door blew and scattered.

Lynn watched the salt line vanish with horror. She looked up at the two people in the doorway.

Both the man and the woman's eyes rolled up towards their foreheads, turning a dark, empty black.

Lynn drew. Her weapon flew from her hand immediately, before she had a chance to pull the trigger. It hit the wall on the other side of the room and bounced, landing on the floor.

The man was instantly in front of her brother, grabbing him by the front of his leather coat. Stephen was tossed backwards into the bathroom door. He hit the ground with a heavy _thump!_

Lynn leapt at the man, but the woman appeared beside her, grabbing her around the waist and slamming her down on the nearby bed. The man reached Stephen in record time, lifting him from the ground and forcing him into the bathroom.

For some reason, the shower started.

The woman held her forcibly down, but Lynn slammed her fist into the demon's temple. When her grip temporarily loosened, Lynn took full advantage, throwing herself against the woman's chest.

The two of them hit the carpet and rolled. Lynn sat up on her knees and crawled towards Stephen's duffel bag, inspired by visions of holy water. She didn't make it. The woman leapt up and grabbed her by the neck, yanking her from the floor and slamming her into the wall.

She licked her lips. "My, my, what a feisty little firecracker you turned out to be," she grinned. Lynn struggled against the demon's hold but couldn't break free to save her life. "Stevie's sissy, yes? The lovely Lynnette?"

"It's Lynn," Lynn spat.

"Mm-hmm," the demon murmured, still smiling in that seductive, sly way. "And you can call me Faye, doll face. Now how's about a kiss?"

Lynn spit in her eye.

Faye backhanded her across the face. Lynn's head snapped to the side as pain exploded in her jaw. Faye lifted her off the ground by her shirt front and tossed her like a heavy sack.

She flew across the motel room and hit the end table, shattering the lamp sitting on top. Lynn tumbled to the floor, taking the broken lamp with her.

Slowly, Lynn sat up, wiping blood from her mouth. Broken chunks of ceramic were scattered all around her. She glared up at the demon as Faye sashayed across the room, coming to a stop directly in front of the hunter. Her painted lips curved back up into her seductive smirk as she planted her hands on her curvaceous hips.

"This is going to be fun."


	33. Scarecrow

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Big thank yous to angeleyenc, Lov3good, Nelle07, SingingInTheRain1989, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, ThreeMoons, deansbabygirl934, superloudean, M*YP, Joan J., tbelle1234, legrowl, Padme 4000, .Steph, and SilentKnightInDisguise11 for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 33: Scarecrow

"Dean, it's Jayne. I've called you like three times already, and you're not picking up, so… um, we're about to head out. I'll call you again when we get there. Just, uh… could you call me back? I'm getting worried you've been sacrificed to some scarecrow god or something. See ya."

Sighing, Jayne hung up her cell phone with a loud snap. Chewing her bottom lip, she stared at it for a moment. Dean still wasn't picking up… and she had a bad feeling about that.

She tucked the phone back into her jeans and began circling the motel room, checking to see if she and her stepsister were all packed. Satisfied, Jayne zipped her duffel shut and hefted it off the bed. She grabbed Lynn's bag too and then stepped outside, headed for Janis.

With a loud grunt, she tossed both bags into the bed. Then, sighing again, Jayne made her way towards Stephen's motel room. Lynn had gone to get him over twenty minutes ago, and neither of them had shown their faces yet. She was tired of waiting.

She'd just reached his door when she heard something shatter.

Jayne froze. The loud shattering noise had come from the other side of the Stephen's door.

Her veins tingling, Jayne leaned closer to the door and listened.

She heard a strangled scream, and a high-pitched cackle. And that was all she needed to hear before her gun was out and she was pulling the trigger.

_Bang! _The lock fell through to the other side, smoking. Jayne kicked the door in. It slammed into the wall, and she marched in over the threshold, pistol pointed straight in front of her.

The unfamiliar laugh sounded again. Jayne turned, pointing her gun towards the noise.

Instantly, she froze. The juices in her stomach sloshed from side to side. She felt a hitch in her throat. To the left of the door was the king size bed. Kneeling on top of that bed was a beautiful woman with long dark hair. The woman wore a wicked grin – and she was holding Jayne's little sister down by her throat.

"Well, well, look who came on in to join the party," the strange woman drawled in a thick southern accent. She winked at Jayne. "Where have they been hiding you, buttermilk?"

Jayne charged two steps forward, pistol pointed straight at the woman's head. "Get away from her," she growled.

Her growl had no effect on the strange woman. She just threw her head back, long hair swishing, and laughed. The cold cackle stopped Jayne in her tracks.

The woman looked away from her, returning her attention to Jayne's stepsister. "Why, you didn't tell me your sister was a life size Barbie doll," she cooed down at Lynn. "Trying to keep me all to yourself, huh sugar?"

Lynn was still struggling unsuccessfully against the other woman's chokehold. Jayne's finger twitched on the trigger, but she didn't pull. "Go back to Hell, you painted whore," Lynn spat.

The painted whore backhanded Lynn across the face.

"I like it when you talk dirty to me," she whispered with an evil smirk.

Jayne's vision went white and she lunged forward in rage. The woman turned back to her, her lips still curled up in that scary yet somehow sexy grin.

"Now, now, my little lovely," she said, looking Jayne straight in the eye. Her arctic, airy voice sent a shiver down Jayne's spine, stopping her once again. "What good exactly is that teensy peashooter of yours going to do against me?"

Jayne hesitated, frowning. The woman smirked again. Slowly, her eyes rolled up into her head, and suddenly the strange woman was staring at Jayne with a pair of empty black eyes.

She was a demon.

"If it makes you feel right, I say do it," the demon grinned. "Go ahead, Barbie, and pull the trigger. Ain't going to hurt little old me. Might hurt this body, though."

Jayne felt her fingers twitching again, desperate to pull that trigger. Her frown deepened and she gripped the gun tighter, trying to control the urge. Lynn wasn't the only one she had to worry about now.

The demon's grin grew wider. "Up to you, hunter," she drawled. "But I seem to recall hearing a little something about you hero folk and not harming the innocent…?"

"You let go of my sister," Jayne snapped.

"Not a chance," the demon returned. "I like holding your sister. Bet I'd like holding you too."

There was a loud thud and a crash from inside the bathroom. Jayne's eyes immediately flew towards the bathroom door. Someone inside hollered.

That someone sounded a lot like Stephen.

"Yeah, that's right, Baby Spice," the demon simpered. "Your little brother's in there with my hubby. And he ain't coming out."

The demon smiled wickedly, looking down at Lynn again and then back up at Jayne. Her eyes traveled up and down Jayne's body. "Wait until Randy gets a load of you two sweet things. Why, he'll just be tickled pink and then some."

"Shut it, Scarlett," Jayne retorted. "Your hubby's going to hell, and so are you."

The demon raised an eyebrow Jayne's way. "Name's Faye, sweetie pie. Scarlett's what you're going to be when I get through with you."

"You know, this whole exchanging of ad-libs you two got going on is fascinating, really," Lynn interrupted dryly from where she was sprawled out all over the bed, her right arm splayed out across the open duffel bag behind her head. "But how about somebody make a move? Huh?"

"I got all kinds of moves," Faye hissed at her, leaning down by her ear. "And I'm saving my best one for you, cinnamon girl."

"That so?" Lynn asked too sweetly. "You know, I got a few moves of my own."

Suddenly, Lynn's right arm snapped up from the duffel. The demon's eyes widened for a split second before Lynn smashed a heavy glass bottle into her temple, shattering it against Faye's skull.

Steam hissed off the demon's skin as the holy water exploded against her face. Screeching with agony, Faye let go of Lynn, falling backwards onto the floor.

Instantly Jayne flew across the room, landing on top of the demon and forcing her head into the carpet. Still on the bed, Lynn rolled over and jumped up on her knees to dig through the duffel bag for another bottle.

The demon struggled underneath Jayne, still screaming and hissing from the holy water. Her long red fingernails came snapping out like a switchblade, catching Jayne across the face and leaving long red slashes across Jayne's cheek.

Jayne punched her in the face. Faye's head snapped to the side, and she let loose an angry roar, bucking underneath the hunter. Jayne was nearly thrown from her perch on top of the other woman.

Then Lynn appeared at her side, another bottle of holy water in her hands, and began splashing it furiously on the convulsing woman. Faye screamed and moaned, but Jayne grabbed her around the neck with one hand, only just managing to hold her down. Lynn forced a notebook into Jayne's free hand.

The pages were flipped open to an exorcism.

Jayne began to read as Lynn continued to douse the shrieking demon with holy water. "_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…_"

Faye screamed and writhed beneath Jayne as the stream of Latin spewed forth from her lips. Faintly, underneath all the hollering, Jayne heard the banging and shouting from within the bathroom increase, but she focused on the exorcism.

"…_ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis…_"

Faye screamed, bucking beneath Jayne once again in a last ditch effort to hold onto her vessel. Lynn subdued her quickly with another splash of holy water. Jayne hung on tight to the demon's neck and managed to finish the rite.

"_Benedictus Deus! Gloria Patri!_"

With a final scream, Faye's head snapped back and her mouth opened wide. Thick black smoke exploded from her mouth, tossing Jayne backwards, across the room and into the wall. The smoke billowed up, hitting the ceiling with a flash of fire, and then vanishing.

The woman on the ground lay still for a moment. Jayne struggled to her feet, watching the woman warily. Lynn had been knocked on her ass by the force of the exorcism, but was still close by the vessel. She inhaled shakily, sitting up, and leaning closer to check the woman's pulse.

Suddenly, the woman's eyes flew open and she sat up with a gasp, clutching the side of her head.

Terrified, she looked from Jayne to Lynn. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Jayne looked at Lynn. Lynn stared back. The woman was shaking, and still waiting for an answer.

"_Faye!_"

The door to the bathroom burst open and a tall, unshaven man burst into the room, the brow over his empty black eyes contorted in panic. The woman on the floor shrieked in horror.

The man looked from the woman, to Jayne, to Lynn. His lip drew back in a snarl. Then, with a loud angry roar, he charged straight for Jayne.

"_No!_"

Stephen's voice echoed throughout the motel room. He came flying over the threshold, hand reaching out desperately in front of him.

There was an explosion of heat. The demon man screamed in pain. Suddenly, his entire body was engulfed in huge, roaring orange flames.

Still screaming, the man hit the ground, rolling around desperately. Jayne and her stepsister stood stock still, gawking at the sight in horror. Stephen raced towards the burning man.

Suddenly, the man stopped moving. His head snapped back, and black smoke funneled out his mouth. The smoke charged for the open door, knocking Jayne out of its way, and then disappeared outside in the parking lot.

Instantly, the man started shrieking and rolling around again. Stephen froze, staring at the sight in absolute horror. Jayne's huge eyes traveled from Stephen's guilt-stricken face to the flaming man before her.

She snapped into action. She tore the comforter from the bed and started beating the flames. The comforter caught on fire instead.

Cussing, Jayne grabbed the man by the arms through the safety of the thick blanket and dragged the screeching man into the bathroom. The shower was already running when she tossed him into the bathtub. She continued trying to smother the fire with the blanket as both her and the burning man were soaked by the endless beating of the freezing cold water.

Finally, the fire was out. Breathless, Jayne stepped back from the man, the sopping comforter still in her hands. She stared at him silently for a moment with huge eyes. He was no longer screaming. He wasn't even moving.

Lynn and Stephen had joined her in the bathroom. They stared at the motionless man in the shower with eyes as big as hers. Finally, Jayne dared to venture forward.

The man still didn't move. He was burnt beyond recognition. His body was warped and blackened, most of his hair gone, his clothes ragged and sooty, falling off his charred body. The skin on his face was crinkled and black, the blood underneath shining purple.

She pressed two fingers into his neck.

No pulse.

Jayne backed away from the corpse. She looked at her brother and sister without speaking a word.

Stephen gasped painfully, backing into the sink. His hand ran over his smooth, bald head.

The woman in the next room suddenly sobbed. Jayne directed a pointed look at her gaping, shaking stepsister. Lynn interpreted the look instantly, rushing into the bedroom to console the still breathing civilian.

Jayne stared at the body a second longer, and then stared at Stephen instead. He didn't look at her. He just kept staring at the body in the bathtub, shaking his head furiously.

Jayne shut off the shower. She left her brother in the bathroom, taking one step over the threshold. The woman was still on the floor crying. Lynn was kneeling beside her, rubbing her back, and shushing her. From the panic in her wide brown eyes, Jayne could tell that Lynn was in need of comforting too.

She had none to offer. Even if she had known how to comfort Lynn, she didn't have the time to do it. Jayne glanced over at her little brother, who was still staring at the dead body in horror. She cleared her throat.

He jumped. "Give me your keys," she demanded in a low, monotonous tone.

Stephen stared at her for a moment. Then, fingers shaking, he fished the keys out of his jacket pocket and tossed them at Jayne.

She caught them one handed. Then she tossed the keys at Lynn. Lynn fumbled, barely catching them against her chest.

"Take the Bird," she ordered her stepsister. "Get that woman out of here."

Lynn stared at Jayne for a mere second. Then she nodded, helping the woman off the ground. Still sobbing, the woman stumbled towards the motel room door, Lynn gently pushing her all the way.

"Lynn," Jayne said as the two women reached the door.

Lynn looked at her.

"Don't come back."

Her stepsister frowned. She looked ready to protest.

"Go straight to Burkitsville," Jayne explained before Lynn could utter a sound. "We'll meet you there."

Lynn stared at her for a little while. Then she nodded her agreement, and ushered the crying woman out the door.

When they were gone, Jayne redirected her gaze to her still shaking little brother. He looked back this time.

Jayne dug her room keys out of her back jeans pocket as she walked into the bathroom. She handed them to Stephen.

He took the keys automatically. "You all packed?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Put your shit in the truck," she ordered. "Check all of us out."

Stephen stared at her.

"Well?" she asked.

Slowly, he nodded again. She stepped aside so he could move into the bedroom. Then he grabbed his duffel bag and practically ran out of the room.

Jayne watched him go, and then looked at the body.

For a moment, she stood still in the center of the bathroom, just staring at what her little brother had done.

Then she bent over and grabbed hold of the still drenched comforter, lifting it off the damp bathroom floor.

She moved quickly, robotically. In the bedroom, she spread the comforter out wide on the floor. Unthinkingly, she returned to the bathroom and hooked her hands under the arms of the dead man, dragging his limp, heavy body out of the bathtub.

Water puddled on the floor, forming a damp trail from the tub to the comforter as Jayne dragged the man into the bedroom. She laid the body out on the edge of the comforter, and then kneeled beside it, grabbing the end of the blanket.

She rolled the man up inside the comforter, tucking the ends in tight. When the body was completely concealed, she stood up, still hunched over.

With a loud grunt, she hoisted the body onto her shoulders. Straining with the effort, she made her way to the door and then cautiously poked her head outside.

The parking lot was deserted. Jayne moved as quickly as she could without dropping the heavy weight she was carrying. She nearly ran to the truck. Once she reached it, she hefted the body as far off her shoulder as she could manage, and tossed the man into the truck bed.

Panting, her shoulders sore, Jayne climbed into the bed, using the back wheel as a step. She made sure the comforter was still wrapped tightly around the body. Then she fastened the burden down with the ropes she kept back in the bed, tying them tightly to the shiny metal loops poking out the bed cover.

She was in the driver's seat, truck started and rumbling away, when Stephen finally opened the passenger side door and slid inside.

Jayne glanced at him. He stared at her. She looked back out the windshield.

"Where…" Stephen choked on his words, and had to start all over again. "Where's the body?"

Jayne glanced at him again. "Where do you think?"

He looked at his boots. Jayne returned her eyes to the steering wheel. She shifted into drive and stomped down on the gas.

The tires squealed as she roared out of the parking lot.

* * *

This whole damn case had become a very literal pain in the neck.

Rubbing his sore neck, Dean slowly sat up and glanced around him. He didn't find much. He was sitting in almost total darkness on damp, dirt packed ground.

There was light shining in through a long narrow crack somewhere above him. Dean squinted up at the light, climbing up on his feet.

Suddenly, two doors swung open from where the light was coming in. He squinted against the sudden rush of sunlight that came shining down the newly visible wooden steps.

He was in a root cellar.

"Uncle Hurley? Aunt Stacy?"

At the top of the stairs, Scotty and the local sheriff were standing at attention, pointing their long rifles straight at his head. The gas station man and his wife were leading their niece towards the steps.

Emily looked at them with huge shining eyes, both confused and terrified. Her uncle ushered her downstairs.

Dean stared at him in shock. The man quickly averted his eyes and raced back up the steps.

"Why are you doing this?" Emily asked.

Her uncle couldn't meet her eyes. Her aunt's lip trembled, but she looked straight at Emily and said quite evenly, "For the common good."

Then she shut the door to the cellar, leaving both Dean and Emily in the dark.

* * *

Lynn gave the Bird a vicious twist of the wheel and pulled into the driveway of a white, two-story colonial. She parked in the drive, and looked over at the black-haired woman seated beside her.

The woman's name was Pamela. She lived an hour outside Clermont. She couldn't remember the last week of her life. All she had were fragments, and none of those fragments could comfort her.

Now, instead of getting out of the car, Pamela sat still in the passenger seat of Stephen's bright orange Superbird. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around the edge of the seat, and she was breathing too heavily.

"I was possessed, wasn't I?" she finally asked.

Lynn gripped the steering wheel harder, looking at the other woman. "Yes," she whispered.

Pamela's next question came right on the heels of Lynn's affirmation: "By a demon?"

Lynn nodded. "Yes," she said, a little louder this time. "By a demon."

They were quite a moment. Pamela took a deep breath. "I never believed in demons," she announced. "I never believed in anything like this before."

"Most people don't," Lynn returned.

Another tear rolled down Pamela's cheek. "That man?" she asked. "He was a demon too?"

Lynn nodded.

"I think they were married," she announced. "I think they loved one another."

She turned huge, wet eyes on Lynn. "How is that possible?" she asked. "How can demons love one another? How can they love anything?"

Lynn gave the woman a small smile. "I know I should be able to answer all your questions," she said. "But I just don't know."

The woman nodded, looking at her knees. "Thank you," she said. "You and your family. You saved me."

"It's our job," Lynn told her quietly. "You don't need to thank us."

"I won't tell anyone," Pamela assured her. "What I saw in that motel room, what your brother did…. I won't tell anyone."

Lynn swallowed hard. "We appreciate that."

Pamela gave her a short, forced smile. Lynn smiled back, just as grimly. Pamela got out of the car and headed for her front door.

When she reached the porch, she turned back and waved. With great effort, Lynn waved back.

Pamela disappeared inside.

Lynn put the car in drive, and tore on out of there.

* * *

Jayne stood in the woods, her hair blowing in the wind. She looked down into the deep, rectangular hole at her feet, where the bundle in the comforter lay.

Her brother took a deep, shaky breath from his place beside her.

They'd already dumped the salt and the gas on top of the body. Jayne lit a match and dropped it into the hole.

The comforter and the man inside it burst into flames.

Again.

The two of them stood there silently, watching the body burn. Her brother's breathing got shallower, harsher. She heard him sniff a time or two.

She didn't look at him. He hated people watching him when he cried.

The body burned a long time. Jayne waited until the flames had begun to die before she quietly asked, "Why didn't you tell us?"

Stephen didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was barely above a whisper.

"I didn't want you to know."

Neither of them said another word. They stood silently over the grave until the flames had become embers and the embers had become cinders. Jayne grabbed one of the shovels sticking out of the ground near them and threw a first shovel full of dirt into the hole.

Stephen grabbed the second shovel and began tossing dirt into the hole too.

They buried the little that remained in silence. Not once did they look at each other.

* * *

Sam hung up his cell, shaking his head.

It was nearing five. His bus to Sacramento had pulled in. They were boarding now – and by now, Sam meant this very moment.

Dean wasn't answering his phone.

In fact, the calls were going straight to voicemail.

Something was wrong.

A small part of his brain tried to talk the other parts into believing otherwise. Dean was working a case. Maybe he was too busy for a chat right now. And even if something had happened, Jayne and Lynn and their brother were headed down to Burkitsville to help. They could get Dean out of whatever trouble he was in, and they didn't need Sam's help to do it.

But Lynn wasn't picking up either. Neither was Jayne. And now that Dean had ignored the fifth and final of Sam's calls, Sam was more than a little anxious. Still gripping his phone, Sam brought his fist to his mouth and thought for a moment, unconsciously chewing his knuckles.

"Hey," Meg said from behind him. "Our bus came in."

Sam shook his head again. He got up from his chair and snatched his bag off the table. "Then you better catch it," he told her. "I got to go."

Meg sounded more than a little shocked. "Go where?"

"Burkitsville."

He marched off in the opposite direction of his bus.

"Sam!" Meg called. "Wait!"

He turned around to look at her. "I've been trying to call my brother for the last three hours," he announced.

She shrugged. "Maybe his phone's turned off."

"No," Sam shook his head. "That's not like him. I think he might be in some kind of trouble."

Meg frowned at him. "What kind of trouble?"

Sam shook his head for what felt like the millionth time. "I can't really explain right now… look, I don't want you to miss your bus."

"But… I don't understand," Meg exclaimed. "You're running back to your brother? The guy you ran away from? Why? Because he won't pick up his phone?"

Sam stared at her a moment.

It was true. The two of them had a lot in common. And he wanted to have what she did; he wanted her freedom.

He really didn't want to be Lynn.

But despite all that, Sam knew Meg just wouldn't understand this one. The only person who'd get what he was thinking this time was Lynn.

"Sam," Meg pleaded softly. "Come. With me, to California."

"I can't," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"You won't?"

"He's my family."

Then Sam turned from her, and ran off to the parking lot in search of a car.

* * *

Lynn hadn't been on the road long, but she couldn't take one more second of staring down the gray and empty highway with nothing and no one to keep her company other than her own thoughts.

So she stopped at a gas station to fill up. Then, once the tank was full, she headed inside.

The man behind the counter had been staring out the window in admiration. When she walked in, he grinned wide.

"Cool car," he said.

She didn't thank him. "Two packs of Camels," she returned.

The man's smile faded. He grabbed the requested cigarettes and laid them out on the counter.

"Anything else?"

Lynn picked a lighter out of the countertop display and tossed it next to her smokes.

The man rang up her purchases. "Twelve twenty-five."

She paid him out of her poker money. He counted back her change, and Lynn grabbed her Camels, heading outside without speaking another word.

She slid behind the wheel of the Bird, slamming the door behind her. Then she started the car and ripped open one of the packs of Camels.

Lynn lit a cigarette. She inhaled deeply, and blew the smoke out slowly, watching it leave her lips.

She might have quit smoking, but every once in a while a girl needed a cig. Watching your little brother light a man on fire using nothing but thought-waves was one of those moments.

Cigarette still in hand, Lynn shifted out of park and drove away.

* * *

In possibly the most embarrassing turn of events in his life, Dean now found himself being tied to an apple tree by Scotty and the Burkitsville sheriff.

Emily was being tied to another tree, just on the other side of the path, by her aunt and uncle. She was crying.

These lunatics were actually going to sacrifice one of their own – one of their own flesh and blood.

Unbelievable.

"How many people have you killed, sheriff?" Dean spat as the other man secured his bonds. "How much blood is on your hands?"

"We don't kill them," the sheriff retorted.

Dean snorted. "No, but you sure cover up after. I mean, how many cars have you hidden, clothes have you buried?"

The sheriff didn't seem too affected by the words. He finished tying the ropes, grabbing his rifle and marching off.

"Uncle Hurley?" Emily asked pathetically. "Please?"

"I'm so sorry, Em," the gas man said. "I wish it didn't have to be you."

"Try to understand," her aunt added. "It's our responsibility. And there's just no other choice. There's no one but you."

"But I'm your family."

"That's what sacrifice means, sweetheart," the aunt replied, starting to get misty herself. "Giving up something you love for the greater good. The town needs to be safe. The good of the many outweighs the good of the one."

Dean watched as Emily's aunt and uncle walked away from her. The sheriff and Scotty followed, leaving Dean and Emily alone in the orchard.

"I hope your apple pie is freaking worth it!" Dean shouted after them.

They were quiet for a while.

"So what's the plan?" Emily asked.

The plan? Dean almost laughed. There had been no plan. The plan was to wait for Jayne and her sister to save his ass; _that_ was the plan. But there was no telling when the two stepsisters and their brother would get there – if they'd be too late.

They needed another way out.

"I'm working on it," Dean told her.

Emily wasn't impressed.

* * *

Burkitsville Orchard.

Jayne parked in front of the gates. The Superbird was nowhere in sight. Neither, strangely enough, was the Impala. However, Jayne couldn't think where else Dean would be when it was after dark and there was a killer scarecrow on the loose. And as for the message she'd left him earlier that day, well… it hadn't entirely been a joke. She had been getting nervous that Dean had been captured by the townspeople, and that they were gearing up to sacrifice him to the scarecrow god.

And now that he hadn't answered her call all day, she was almost positive that that was exactly what had happened.

Jayne shut down the engine, staring at the entrance to the orchard. Stephen shifted in the seat beside her ever so slightly, his eyes trained on the gates as well.

Jayne swung her door open and stepped down from the cab. She shut the door behind her and headed round the back of the truck, reaching into the bed for her shotgun. Stephen climbed down out of the truck as well, shutting the door behind him. Jayne glanced up at him as he made his way to the bed, leaning his elbows on the edge. He looked her right in the eye.

Jayne looked away. "Let's move," she said, gun in hand as she marched for the gates.

"I know I'm a freak."

She froze. Slowly, she turned around. Her brother was still leaning on the truck, but he was facing her direction now, looking at her expectantly.

Jayne forced a grin for him. "Steve," she said. "You're my brother. Of course you're a freak."

He stared at her. A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "I thought maybe it would go away," he told her. "I thought…"

She stared at him. He hung his head.

"The first time I did it… it was the first time that Faye and Randy attacked me. It was the night I left you two. It was… half the reason I left you two."

He took a deep breath, pushing himself off the truck and burying his hands in his pockets.

"What if I can't control it, Jaynie? What if…?" He took another deep breath. "What if what I did back there, what if… what if it's not the last time I kill an innocent person?"

They were quiet for a long time.

"Come on," Jayne said quietly, beckoning to him with her hand. "Let's go save my dumbass friend, ok? We might even get to kill an evil scarecrow."

Stephen stared at her a moment. He smiled slightly. "Well, straw _is_ flammable."

"That's the spirit," she smirked.

He smiled again and then walked ahead of her into the orchard. Jayne followed close behind, clutching her shotgun.

She wished she had an answer for her brother. But she didn't. Much like Sam, Stephen had suddenly developed a new skill that he was having difficulty controlling. And much like Dean, Jayne had no idea how to deal with it.

* * *

Dean fought against his bonds, trying to loosen them. It wasn't working. He sighed in frustration.

"You don't have a plan, do you?" Emily asked from the other side of the orchard path.

"I'm working on it!" Dean retorted, still trying to break free.

She simply sighed.

"Can you see?" Dean demanded. "Is he moving yet?"

Emily tried to crane her neck in the direction of the scarecrow, but it soon became clear that she couldn't see anything either. "I can't see anything."

That's when Dean heard the footsteps.

"Oh no," Emily moaned.

The crunching of leaves came closer and closer. Dean struggled harder against the ropes.

Suddenly, Jayne appeared.

Dean blinked.

Jayne stared at him.

"Dean?" she asked.

Dean sighed in relief. "Oh, man, Goldilocks, am I glad to see you."

She stared at him a moment longer. Then she started to laugh.

Dean frowned. "Are you laughing at me?"

She laughed harder.

"Stop it!"

"You know, I always knew Sam was the brains of the operation," Jayne snorted.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha, very funny."

"This is priceless," Jayne said, still chuckling. "Leave you alone for a few days, and you go from capable hunter straight to damsel in distress."

"Are you done?" Dean snapped. "You going to untie me?"

"Yeah, yeah, in a minute," Jayne returned, digging her cell phone out of her jeans. "I just want to get a picture…"

"Jayne!"

"Kidding!" Jayne exclaimed, tucking the cell phone away. "You know there's no camera on my phone."

She crossed over to his left side, smacking him in the head as she passed. "Come on," she said, smirking at him. Then she pulled a knife from her boot and sawed through his bonds.

"You're a pain in my ass," Dean informed her, rubbing his newly freed wrists.

Jayne snorted, making her way over to Emily. "_I'm _a pain in _your_ ass?"

Dean pulled himself to his feet as Jayne cut through Emily's bonds and helped her to her feet. "I'm Jayne," she introduced herself.

Emily delivered a small, very forced smile. "Emily."

"Did you see the scarecrow?" Dean demanded.

"Big ugly fucker by the front entrance?" Jayne asked. "Yeah. He's still there."

Dean nodded, only mildly relieved. "Where's Lynn?"

"Probably still driving."

"You took separate cars?"

"She has Stephen's Bird," Jayne informed him. "It's a long story."

Dean didn't miss the way her jaw tightened as she looked away from him. There was a story, all right. From the looks of it, a serious one. But it would have to wait till later.

"Where's your brother?" he asked.

"Around here somewhere," Jayne replied. "We split up to look for you."

"Great," Dean sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Call him; tell him to meet us outside. We have to get out of here before the scarecrow wakes up."

Jayne nodded, reaching for her phone again.

"No need," an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind Dean.

He swiveled around, instantly on guard.

Jayne sighed in relief from behind him. "It's just my brother," she announced. "Good timing, Steve."

"Steve" was about Sam's age and considerably shorter than Dean, but his small stature didn't make him any less imposing. He wore a leather jacket and faded jeans. He had a goatee and a shaved head.

Despite that, he actually looked a lot like Lynn.

"Dean Winchester?" he asked. "Name's Stephen. You don't have to freak out, man; I'm not a scarecrow or nothing like that."

He was still smirking.

Dean kind of wanted to punch him.

"Well, since you're here," Jayne spoke again. "Let's get out the hell of this place, ok?"

"I don't know," Stephen frowned. "I was promised scarecrow killing."

Dean glanced at Jayne. She was rolling her eyes. "Move your ass, kid."

He moved his ass as ordered, walking right past Dean and over to his sister's side. "Don't call me kid," he griped.

"So you're Steve-o," Dean said snidely.

He wasn't sure what had provoked him. Maybe it was the kid's swagger, or his smirk. Maybe it was the fact that he'd bailed on his sisters, and Dean had doubts as to whether or not Jayne had properly chewed his ass out for it. She'd probably been so relieved he wasn't dead, that she'd let the disappearing act slide.

As it was, Jayne gave him an almost desperate look, begging him not to push it further. Dean ignored the look. Stephen whirled around, stepping into Dean's personal space. He narrowed his eyes, glaring up at Dean. The glower was practically a dare.

Dean glowered back, slightly thrown by the intense gray color of the kid's eyes. He tried not to show it, but he hadn't expected the male version of Lynn Juarez to have Jayne's eyes.

"Stephen, actually," the kid sneered. "But don't sweat it; it's cool. Old guys don't hear so well. Or so I'm told."

Dean's fist clenched at his side. His desire to deck the kid increased tenfold.

"Um… guys?" Jayne asked.

Nobody paid her any attention.

"Thanks for understanding," Dean sneered back. "So tell me, is ditching your sisters a stupid kid thing? Because I'm having a hard time comprehending that move."

Stephen's upper lip twitched. "I didn't ditch them," he snarled.

"Really?" Dean retorted. "So what was this then, the longest ever game of hide and seek?"

"Bull's eye," Stephen rejoined. "Competing for the world record."

"Do the two of you want to be sacrificed to a killer scarecrow?" Jayne snapped.

Both men turned to look at her.

"Because if you do, that's cool," she continued dryly. "We can even fix one of you up with a wig and a skirt. But Emily and I? We're getting the hell out of here."

She was glaring at both of them. Emily stood a few feet away, hugging her sweater closer over her chest. The young girl was glancing around the orchard nervously, looking terrified.

Dean conceded, but not happily. "Fine," he grumbled. "Let's go."

He brushed past Stephen, banging shoulders, and took Emily by the arm, steering her towards the gate. He heard the crunch of leaves behind them as Jayne and her younger brother followed.

Man, he hated that kid.

* * *

Lynn's tires squealed as she pulled up to the Burkitsville Orchard gates. She threw the Bird into park, shut down the engine, and jumped out the driver's seat. In her haste, she dropped the keys on the pavement. Cussing, Lynn slammed the door shut and swept the keys back off the ground, stuffing them in her pants pocket.

Yanking the Glock from her waistband, Lynn jogged through the gates, glancing around furtively. The sight of Jayne's truck at the gate had done little to set her anxious mind at ease. Her sister and brother were somewhere in this stupid orchard, after dark, with a killer scarecrow on the loose.

Lynn looked all around her as she hurried through the orchard, weaving in and out of the apple trees. So far, there was no sign of either Jayne, Stephen, or Dean. In fact, she hadn't even seen a scarecrow.

Which didn't sit well with her. If there was no scarecrow to be found… well, that just might mean there was a scarecrow up and running around.

She almost laughed. After nearly being killed earlier that day by the Georgia peach from Hell, it seemed pretty ridiculous to be worried about some stupid scarecrow.

They had exorcised Faye, and Lynn supposed that was something. But she couldn't help but be worried. They had one less demon to worry about, true, but the other demon had escaped. He could be anywhere – he could be watching them right now – and more importantly, he could have gone for backup.

Leaves rustled nearby. Lynn spun, gun ready.

"Lynn?"

A tall, dark haired young man stepped out of the shadows. It was Sam.

"Sam?" Lynn exclaimed, incredulous.

He gave her a rather sheepish smile. "Uh… hey."

She frowned. "Hey."

They stared at one another for a minute.

"You haven't seen Dean, have you?" Sam asked.

Lynn shook her head slowly. "Uh… no."

"Oh."

"What are you doing here?"

"Well… I couldn't get a hold of Dean and… well, I got nervous."

Lynn smirked and nodded. "You and Jayne both, apparently."

Sam frowned, looking around. "Where _is_ Jayne?"

Lynn shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"You didn't come together?"

"I took my brother's car."

He frowned again.

Lynn shrugged again. "Long story."

"Right." Sam looked around them another time. "So, um… where's your brother?"

"With Jayne, hopefully."

Sam just nodded this time.

"Look, we better find your brother," Lynn announced. "If we don't hurry up, well… he's scarecrow chow."

The two of them started walking, falling into step alongside one another. For a while they were quiet, picking their way through dead crunching leaves and peering cautiously around tree trunks.

"Lynn," Sam said softly. "Um… look, about all that stuff we were saying last night…"

"You know, Sam, can I just stop you right there?"

Sam blinked at her, clearly surprised by the shut down. Lynn didn't care. She really couldn't talk about anything pertaining to her brother and the demons chasing him at the moment.

"Um… I guess…"

"I just really can't talk about this," Lynn informed him. "I just… something happened, and I don't want to talk about it. Ok? I just want to focus on finding Jayne, Dean, and Stephen. Can we do that?"

Still looking bemused, Sam nodded. "Sure."

They fell silent once again, and kept on moving.

Suddenly, Lynn heard leaves crunching again. She froze, tightening her grip on the Glock. Sam ducked behind a tree, yanking Lynn along with him.

"You think that's…?" he asked in a whisper. Lynn cut him off.

"Shh," she hushed him. "You want to die?"

They hunkered down behind the apple tree, Lynn clutching her gun at the ready. Cautiously, she poked her head around the tree trunk.

She sighed in relief. "It's our stupid family," she told Sam. Slowly, so as not to excite anyone, she stepped out into the moonlight…

… and found herself on the wrong end of Jayne's shotgun.

Lynn held up her hands in surrender. "Whoa, easy, girl. It's just me and Sam."

She stood in the center of the orchard path, Sam two steps behind her. The two of them stared down Jayne, who was standing at the forefront of the group, Dean almost immediately by her side. Behind the two of them were Stephen and a small blonde girl who Lynn had never seen before in her life.

Jayne lowered her shotgun, breathing out a relieved sigh. "There you are," she said. "I was starting to wonder about you."

"All in one piece," Lynn returned.

"Sam?" Dean asked. "What are you doing here?"

Lynn glanced at Sam, who suddenly looked very sheepish. He shoved his hands in his coat and shrugged, studying the grass at his feet. "Well… you weren't answering your phone, and… I got worried."

"What about California?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged again. "Not like it's going anywhere."

A smile started spreading across Dean's face. "So, uh… how'd you get here so fast?"

Sam looked away again, a small smile forming on his face as well. "I, uh… stole a car."

Dean cackled. "That's my boy!"

"Who's the civilian?" Lynn asked, nodding in Emily's direction.

"Her name's Emily," Jayne said shortly. "She's one of the crazy townspeople's niece. They decided to sacrifice her and Dean to appease their ugly scarecrow god."

Lynn frowned. "Nice."

"We got to get out of here," Dean spoke. "He's probably off the cross and moving by now."

They group headed for the exit. "How do we stop him for good?" Lynn wanted to know.

"Uh… looks like we're going to have to torch some sacred tree," Dean replied.

"Sacred tree?" Lynn repeated.

"Yeah."

"I think I can find it," Emily spoke up. "I know there's this really old tree in here somewhere that the immigrants brought over with them. They call it the First Tree. If any tree in here is sacred, well…"

"But we're going to do that tomorrow," Jayne added. "Tonight's just about getting out of this place alive."

"You're not going anywhere."

The entire group froze. Jayne cocked her shotgun, aiming it first one direction and then the other. Lynn looked every which way in a panic, seeing dark shadowy figures stepping out from behind trees with long rifles in their hands. She held her Glock out in front of her, trying to choose which of the newcomers to point it at.

"Let me guess," she heard her brother comment dryly from behind her. "Cue the crazy townspeople?"

"Shut it, smartass," one of the villagers snapped, pointing his rifle directly at Stephen's head. He was dressed like a police officer, but Lynn wasn't going to call him one.

"Whoa," Stephen said, holding up his hands. "Hold the torch and pitchfork, brother."

"Emily?" the older of the other two men asked. "Who are all these people?"

Emily looked like she wanted to cry. Lynn didn't blame her in the slightest. But the young girl was tougher than she looked. Emily held her chin up proud and didn't say a word.

"Hurley," the third man said in a low voice. "We got about five out-of-towners to choose from now. Two girls to boot."

The older man's face brightened. He looked at the middle-aged blonde woman beside him.

She nodded solemnly. "Emily," she whispered. "Come here, sweetie. It'll be all right."

Emily took a step back. Dean stepped in front of her.

"If you think for one minute I'm letting you two anywhere near your niece, then you are crazier than I thought," he said.

"Emily," the man called Hurley addresses the teenager. "You don't have to hide from us. I told you, if there had been another way, I would have never sacrificed you. And now we have another way!"

Emily didn't move. She looked around here, from the townspeople to the hunters at her side.

"And what about next spring?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Hurley and his wife exchanged glances.

"What if there isn't another way next spring?" Emily pushed on. "What then? Do I get offered up all over again?"

Hurley took a step closer. Jayne aimed her shotgun right between the man's eyes.

"What's the matter, old man?" she asked when he froze in his tracks. "Not going to take another step? Go on, now. Give me a reason."

Hurley looked at his niece, who was still cowering behind Dean. "Emily," he whispered. "Please."

That's when his wife screamed.

Hurley didn't even have time to turn his head. A long, wickedly curved metal scythe suddenly exploded through the front of his stomach. Choking and wheezing, Hurley fell to his knees.

Emily cried out in horror as blood burbled out of her uncle's mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut, throwing herself into Dean's chest.

A tall, dark, ugly scarecrow stood behind the choking, bleeding man. He yanked his scythe from Hurley's stomach, and then dug it deep into his shoulder.

The blonde woman was still screaming. The scarecrow wrapped an arm around her neck. Then he dragged both her and her dying husband off down the orchard path.

The other two townspeople ran for it. Lynn glanced back at the rest of her group. Seconds later, all six of them were running for the exit as well.

Emily was still crying when they hit the other side of the gates. Lynn unlocked the doors on Stephen's Superbird and hiked the driver's seat forward. Dean ushered the young girl into the backseat, and then climbed in after her.

Lynn fixed the seat, and tossed the keys at her brother. He slid in behind the wheel as she ran around to the passenger side and hopped inside.

Jayne and Sam clambered into the cab of the pickup as Stephen started the ignition. Her brother hit the gas and tore off down Orchard Road, Jayne's truck tailing close behind.

The car was mostly silent, except for the sound of Emily's sniffling. "Hey," Dean said suddenly from the backseat.

Lynn looked over her shoulder at him.

He gave her his best heartbreaking grin, and Lynn rolled her eyes. "Think we could stop and get my car?" he asked.

Lynn sighed, shaking her head. "You, Jayne, Steve… I'm just never going to get it, am I?"

* * *

They'd stopped at a motel about two towns over, after making a small detour so Dean could pick up his beloved Impala. Now they were all splitting up into three rooms for the night.

Dean and Sam had taken one, and Emily had opted to stay with Jayne. That left Lynn alone with Stephen.

They were silent as they got ready for bed. Lynn disappeared into the bathroom to wash off her makeup and brush her teeth. She could hear Stephen moving around in the bedroom. The TV switched on, the volume faint.

She spat toothpaste into the sink, and then stepped back into the bedroom. Stephen had made himself comfortable on the bed nearest the door and was watching what looked like Beavis and Butthead.

Lynn rolled her eyes.

Stephen glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, looking nervous. Lynn crossed the room, taking a seat on the edge of her bed so that she was facing her brother.

"What happened after I left?" she asked.

Stephen glanced at her again, and then fixed his gaze on the television screen. "We salted and burned the bones," he said in a low voice. "Buried him. Then we headed for Burkitsville."

He shook his head and chuckled. Lynn didn't buy the chuckle for a minute. "I don't think that Winchester guy likes me too much."

"Who, Sam?" Lynn asked, frowning.

Stephen frowned back. "Nah, I didn't even talk to Sam. I was talking about the other one."

"Dean?"

"Yeah." Stephen shook his head again, emitting a low whistle. "Man, he wanted to bust my head in. You know, I think he's just a little too interested in our family problems?"

Lynn smiled slightly. "Yeah, well… his brother has often accused me of being a little too curious about _their _family problems, so… I guess we're even."

They were quiet for a little while.

"So," Lynn said. "You, uh… can light things on fire with the power of your mind, huh?"

He looked at her straight this time. Lynn grinned.

Stephen smiled a little himself. "Yeah. Looks like." He smirked broader. "Guess I'm the freak in the family."

"You were always the freak in the family," she joked.

He smiled again, but it was a sad smile. "Did Jayne tell you about Sam?" Lynn asked.

Stephen frowned. "What about Sam?"

Lynn took a deep breath. "Well… I told you about the whole fire in the nursery, Sam's six month birthday thing, right?"

He nodded.

"Well… not too long ago, Sam found out he could, um… well, he sees things."

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "He sees things?"

Lynn nodded.

"Like what, exactly? Purple people?"

Lynn sighed, harassed. "No, I mean like… like he sees things before they happen."

Stephen stared at her.

Lynn shrugged. "So, um… you know. Psychic powers, weird and unexplainable fires… maybe there's a connection?"

"Great," Stephen retorted. "Because that makes me feel all better."

"It's not your fault," Lynn told him. "What happened today, that was…"

"How was it not my fault?" he snapped. "I lit someone on fire!"

Lynn fell silent.

"Why me?" he asked, finally looking her in the eye. "Why do I have to get the freaky, uncontrollable, deadly to those around me powers, huh?" He snorted bitterly. "Hell, I'd give anything to have Sam's lame-o visions of the future shit."

Lynn didn't know what to say, so she said nothing.

Stephen turned off the TV. "I should leave," he announced.

"Oh, no you don't," Lynn snapped. "You're not going anywhere."

"You and Jayne almost died today!" Stephen snapped back. "Whose fault was that, huh? It was mine, Lynn!"

"No it wasn't!"

"If I hadn't come back, if I hadn't been with the two of you, this wouldn't have happened and you know it! I am a threat to everyone I come near!"

"You are my brother!" she thundered, jumping up on her feet. "And that is far more important to me than anything else, do you understand?"

He stared at her, shaking his head.

"Don't you even think about leaving," Lynn told him, pointing a warning finger in his face. "I forbid it!"

"You forbid it?"

"I forbid it! You can't leave, Steve, do you understand me? How are we ever going to make things right if you keep bailing on us, huh?"

There was a long silence. Stephen stared petulantly at the blank TV screen, arms folded across his chest. Lynn stood still between the two beds, staring at him.

"Fine," Stephen said. "I'll stick it out."

"Thank you," Lynn replied.

He kicked off his boots and switched off the light. "Goodnight," he said.

Slowly, Lynn sat back down on the bed. "Good night," she replied, into the dark.

The mattress creaked beneath him. Lynn sat still for a moment, and then climbed under the sheets.

Things had just gotten a whole hell of a lot harder.

* * *

Sam watched Emily board the bus.

She waved at them before taking her seat. She even smiled. Sam wondered if she really was happy.

If she really was free.

More than likely, what had happened in the orchard would haunt her forever. And now, she had no family.

"Think she's going to be all right?" Sam asked his brother.

Dean shrugged. "I hope so."

They were quiet a minute. "And the townspeople?" Sam continued. "They'll just get away with it?"

"What will happen to the town," Dean returned. "Will have to be punishment enough."

They headed back towards the Impala. Sam wasn't sure that punishment was enough. They'd torched the tree, true. It would ruin the lives of the townspeople, destroy their crops. The little town of Burkitsville would die just like all the other towns around it.

But was that really enough? Would it really atone for all the murders they'd committed over the years?

"So," Dean said as they walked. "Can I drop you off somewhere?"

Sam smiled. "No," he replied. "I think you're stuck with me."

Dean stared at him, surprised. "What made you change your mind?"

"I didn't." Sam returned. "I still want to find Dad. And you're still a pain in the ass."

Dean smirked.

"But Jess, Mom… they're all gone," Sam said. "Dad is god knows where. You and me, we're all that's left."

They were quiet a moment. "So, uh, if we're going to see this through… we're going to do it together."

Dean stared at him for a moment. He nodded. "Hold me Sam," he said. "That was beautiful."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

Dean laughed, and got in the car. Sam slid into the passenger's seat. "You should be kissing my ass," he informed his older brother. "You were dead meat, dude."

"I had a plan," Dean replied. "I'd have gotten out."

"Yeah, I saw your plan," Sam retorted. "Sit tight and wait for Jayne to rescue you?"

Dean scoffed, starting the car. "That's so not the way it went down."

"Really? Cause I think that's exactly how it went down."

"Please."

Sam shook his head, laughing as Dean pulled out onto the road. "Well, at least we still got them, right?" he said. "Jayne, Lynn… their brother. I mean, knocking out the demon's minions one by one until he decides to come after them himself isn't exactly the _best_ plan in the world, but I guess it's better than no plan."

"Yeah, speaking of the three musketeers," Dean returned. "We better shag ass back to the motel. Hash this thing out. I'm not really sure what went down between the time I hung up with Jayne night before last and when she showed up at the orchard yesterday, but I think it was bad. She looked kind of upset."

"Lynn too," Sam said. "When I ran into her in the orchard… she wouldn't even talk about her brother with me."

"Yeah, well, that one's understandable," Dean smirked. "She's pissed at you."

"Ha, ha."

"What, you think she's not?"

Sam sighed. "Actually, she probably is."

They were quiet a moment. "Jayne's face was all scratched up," Dean observed. "Think there was a fight?"

Sam shrugged. "It's a possibility."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," Dean said. "That little brother of theirs? He's a little smartass."

"Kind of like you?"

"Shut it. Bitch."

"Jerk."

* * *

Lynn should have known.

She woke up that morning to an empty room. Stephen's bed was made up, and he was nowhere in sight. His luggage was missing. And there was a little white envelope sitting on his pillow.

Lynn stared at the envelope for a moment. Then, sighing, she got out of bed and picked it up.

There was a knock on the door.

When Lynn opened the door, Jayne pushed her way inside. "What, you just get up?" she asked. "Get ready, woman! We got things to do. Dean and Sam took Emily to torch the tree and then they're dropping her off at the bus station, but once they get back…"

Jayne trailed off, frowning at Lynn. Lynn had spoken a word yet, and she was staring at the floor, chewing on the inside of her mouth.

"What is it?" Jayne demanded.

Lynn shrugged, tossing her hair back and looking Jayne in the eye. Then she nodded at Stephen's perfectly made bed.

Jayne looked at the bed. Her shoulders went tense. Frowning, she turned back to her stepsister.

Lynn held out the still unopened envelope. "At least he left a note this time."

Jayne frowned at the envelope. Then she snatched it from her sister's hand and tore it open.

"I know this note won't make you any less pissed at me," she read aloud. "I'm sorry I bailed because I know you're going to hate me for it, but at the same time, I'm not sorry at all. You two are the only family I have left, and I'm not going to be the reason you two die."

Jayne sighed, shaking her head. "I don't fucking believe this."

"Is there anymore?"

Jayne looked back at the note in her hands. "I'm asking you two not to follow me. I know that means nothing to you, and you'll probably go ahead and chase after me anyway, but at the same time you're probably ready to bust a cap in my ass, and maybe you're pissed enough to let me go this time. I love you two – really, I do. I'm sorry, but I have to do this. Tell those two idiots I consider them fully responsible for your welfare, and if you two get hurt, I'm coming after them. I know, Jayne. You're rolling your eyes. I'm a sexist bastard. Take care of yourselves. Love, Stephen."

Jayne crumpled up the note and threw it angrily at the floor. "Damn it!"

Lynn sighed, leaning against the door. "Now what?"

They were quiet a while. Then Jayne shrugged. "Nothing."

Lynn stared at her. "Nothing?"

Jayne shrugged again.

"We can't just let him go!" Lynn exclaimed. "He's in trouble, Jaynie!"

"Yeah," Jayne retorted. "And it looks to me like that's exactly where he wants to be."

"If we leave now, we might catch him," Lynn argued. "Jayne, he's our brother!"

"Yeah. And once again, our brother has bailed on us." Jayne chuckled bitterly, shaking her head. "You know, sometimes I think Dean Winchester is actually more reliable than our flaky, snot-nosed little brother."

"Jayne, you don't mean that."

"I do. Let him run, Lynn. He wants to do this on his own, fine."

"But…!"

"Listen to me, Lynn," Jayne interrupted, her tone completely serious. "You and I both know that Stephen's an idiot. You and I both know that running out on us is a crappy plan. You and I both know that if this family wants to survive, it needs to stick together."

"Yeah," Lynn agreed. "So what's the problem? Let's go get our little brother!"

"The problem is that our little brother is firmly convinced that he is right, and we are wrong," Jayne returned. "We can tell him our side until we are blue in the face, but so long as he believes he made the right choice, nothing we say will change his mind. He will never stop running, Lynn. Do you really want to chase him for the rest of our lives?"

There was a long silence. Finally, Lynn conceded, reluctantly shaking her head. "No," she admitted in a small voice.

"Then let's break the cycle now," Jayne said. "If he asks for our help, he gets it. No questions asked. But until then… well, he's on his own."

Lynn didn't answer right away. She absolutely hated the thought of giving up. It was against everything in her nature. But Jayne was right, she supposed. Stephen would keep running until he believed it was better not to… and they really couldn't chase him forever.

"Ok," she whispered. "But we still have to talk to Sam and Dean."

"About what?"

"About everything!" Lynn exclaimed. "About what happened in Clermont, about what Stephen told us, about what Stephen can do…!"

"How is that any of their business?"

"You're joking right?"

Jayne shrugged.

Lynn sighed. "Jayne, Ana died in a fire on Stephen's six month birthday. Mary Winchester died the same way on Sam's six month birthday. They were both killed by the same demon. And both of them just developed weirdo psychic powers. Coincidence? I don't think so."

Jayne shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. "Jayne," Lynn said firmly. "We are _so_ not going to deal with this crap by ourselves. We have allies here. Let's use them."

Jayne looked at the ceiling. "Fine."

* * *

They had gathered in Sam and Dean's motel room. Jayne leaned against the wall, two inches from the door, just in case she decided to make a break for it. Her arms were crossed over her chest.

Lynn was sitting on Sam's bed, chewing on her lips. She looked nervous. Sam was sitting at the small table in the corner of the room. Dean was leaning in the doorway to the bathroom.

"So, where's the boy wonder?" Dean asked dryly.

Jayne looked him right in the eye. "Gone."

The smirk on Dean's face vanished. "Gone?" he repeated.

"He left this morning," Lynn murmured. "I woke up, and he wasn't there."

"Did he leave a note?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Yep," Jayne returned shortly.

"Well, where did he go?" Dean wanted to know.

Jayne shrugged. "Atlantic City?"

"Is he coming back?"

"Probably not," Lynn intervened.

Sam shook his head. "But… but what about the demon?"

"Apparently, Stephen decided to field that one solo," Jayne returned.

There was a long silence.

"Ok, so… what now?" Dean asked.

"Well, it looks like maybe we won't be needing your help," Lynn said.

Again, there was a long silence.

"Oh," Dean said.

"Well, I don't mean it like that," Lynn rushed to say. Jayne closed her eyes, sensing her sister was about to dig a deeper hole. "I mean, maybe we need your help in other areas. You know, maybe at some other time."

"Right."

"No, I just mean that Stephen left, so the whole reason we called you two in the first place is no longer an issue," Lynn hastened to explain. "It's not like we're not going to talk to you anymore. We'll still call. And you'll still call us. And we'll still work together sometimes. And if anyone gets a lead on the demon, then we'll be right back together, you know, as fast we can drive."

Jayne looked up at the ceiling, tapping the wall with the back of her head.

The Winchesters stared at Lynn.

Lynn fidgeted uncomfortably, looking at the carpet.

"Well, ok then," Dean said finally. "I guess we'll see you ladies later."

"Wait, don't leave!" Lynn exclaimed.

Everyone stared at her, including Jayne.

She flushed, fidgeting again. "Well, I mean, we have some stuff to tell you still, so… I think it pertains to the demon and whatever seems to be going on here and, uh…"

"We got attacked by two demons yesterday," Jayne cut her off.

Dean and Sam stared at her. "You what?" Dean exploded.

Jayne looked at him and slowly, carefully annunciated, "We. Got. Attacked. By. Two…"

"I heard you just fine," Dean snapped. "Why wasn't that the first thing you told us?"

Jayne shrugged. "Guess we thought our vanishing little brother was slightly more important."

No one said anything for a moment. "All right," Sam broke the silence. "Um… what happened?"

"I was talking to Stephen in his room," Lynn explained. "Jayne was still packing. There was a knock on the door, and then…"

She trailed off, sighing. "Steve answered it. There was a man and a woman. They knew him. They said their names were Faye and Randy. And they tried to kill us. Jayne showed up, saved me, exorcised the woman… the man was in the bathroom, with Stephen. He ran out after the exorcism and tried to kill Jayne… Stephen saved her."

The two boys were looking from one stepsister to the other. "Ok…" Sam said. "So… the man was exorcised…"

"Not exactly," Jayne cut him off.

Lynn took a shaky breath and put a hand over her face.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

Jayne looked right at him. "My brother lit the man on fire," she said. "The demon bailed. It's still out there, somewhere… we just don't know where."

"Your brother lit the man on fire?" Dean repeated incredulously.

"Yep," Jayne returned evenly. "With the power of his mind."

Neither brother spoke immediately. Dean was the first to break the quiet. "Is that a serious statement?"

"Yes."

Dean stared at her. Sam stared at her. Lynn refused to look at her. Jayne shrugged. "Looks like Sam isn't the only one with 'special powers.'"

"Wait," Sam said, getting to his feet. "Are you saying that Stephen has some kind of pyrokinetic ability?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Jayne returned.

"But… but…" Sam took a deep, steadying breath, shaking his head. "Ok, so your mother died the same way my mother died."

"Yes."

"And it was Stephen's six month birthday."

"Yes."

"And now he has abilities, like I have abilities."

"Looks like." Jayne inhaled deeply and let the air out in a loud sigh. "You done yet?"

"I don't understand," Sam said. "What does this mean? Is there some sort of connection, do our powers…."

He trailed off, shaking his head.

"What, Sam?" Dean snapped. "You think your powers come from the demon? That they're a result of what happened that night?"

"I don't know, Dean!" Sam shouted. "What else am I supposed to think?"

"I need a cigarette," Lynn said suddenly.

Jayne looked at her.

Lynn got up off the bed and walked straight out the door.

For a minute, the three hunters just looked at one another. "So… what does this mean?" Dean asked finally. "I mean… you said the demon wants Stephen dead, so…"

"So is he going to come after Sam?" Jayne interrupted. "I don't know. Maybe. I mean, Stephen thinks the demon wants him dead because he got too close. He thinks the demon's trying to protect itself or something. I mean… maybe the demon doesn't care about Sam now. But if we keep digging…"

"I don't care," Sam cut her off.

"Maybe you don't," Dean snapped. "But I care."

"We can't stop looking for that demon," Sam snapped back.

"Sam, if that thing comes after you…"

"I don't care!" Sam thundered. "That demon killed Jess, Dean! It killed Mom!"

Dean fell silent.

"We're going to find that thing," Sam announced. "And we're going to kill it."

Then he marched outside and slammed the door.

Jayne didn't move off the wall. She looked over at Dean, raising her eyebrow. Dean glared after his brother for a second, and then turned away from the door, slamming his fist into the wall.

"God damn it!" he bellowed.

"What's the matter, princess?" Jayne asked. "Hurt yourself?"

He turned his glower on her. She gave him a cheeky grin.

Dean sighed, leaning against the wall. He looked at her.

Jayne stared at him.

"So, are you worried about this?" he asked.

Jayne scoffed. "Worried?" she repeated. "About this? Nah. Not even a little."

Dean nodded, one side of his mouth twitching up into a short lived smirk. "Me neither."

Jayne nodded back. She didn't mean the nod, of course. She knew Dean was lying to her. And she knew Dean knew she was lying to him.

* * *

Lynn sat in the bed of Jayne's pickup, her back against the cab. She held a lit cigarette between two fingers, and she was staring across the parking lot, not really seeing what she was looking at. She inhaled deeply on the cigarette, savoring the burn that traveled down her throat as she did so.

The entire truck began to shake. Lynn looked up in surprise and saw Sam climbing into Janis's bed.

He sat down next to her, his long legs bent at odd angles. "Hey," he said.

"Hi," she replied, still staring straight ahead. She took another drag on her cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"I quit five years ago."

Sam raised his eyebrow at her.

Lynn glared at him. "It's been a very stressful day!"

Sam held his hands up in surrender. "Ok, ok. You quit."

This did nothing to end the glowering. "Don't patronize me."

They fell quiet.

"So…" Sam said. "Um… this thing with your brother…"

"Is pretty damn scary," Lynn cut him off. "And it's got you all freaked out about your powers and whether or not the demon is going to try and kill you too. I know."

She took a last drag, smoking the cigarette down to the filter, and then tossed the butt out of the truck.

Sam stared at her a moment. "I guess this is probably pretty hard on you."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Sam, please don't use the big, dewy sensitive puppy eyes on me, ok? Don't give me the empathetic young man routine. Yeah, this is hard on me. It's hard on Jayne. It's hard on you, on Dean, and on my brother. Can we be done now?"

Sam nodded. "Sure."

They sat in silence. Lynn dug the Camels back out of her coat pocket and lit a new cigarette.

Sam watched her inhale. "You know, those things kill."

"So do demons," Lynn retorted.

Sam sighed. "Lynn… we could find your brother, you know. Try to work with him. Maybe if Stephen and I could control our abilities… maybe if we worked together…"

"Forget it, Sam," she interrupted. "My brother doesn't want to work with us. He wants to go it alone. He's convinced that being around us will get us killed, and there's nothing we can do to convince him otherwise. I know; I tried."

They were quiet again.

"I'm sorry, Lynn," Sam whispered.

"Yeah," Lynn said, sighing. "Me too."


	34. Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Big thank yous to angeleyenc, ksirrah, M*YP, Nelle07, Padme 4000, Lov3good, deansbabygirl934, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, Strangler000, legrowl, martine, ThreeMoons, Spelllesswonder29, Joan J. and Vanill_23 for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 34: Gentlemen Prefer Blondes

Jayne sighed in irritation, propping her elbow up on the window ledge as she turned Janis' steering wheel and merged into the next lane, passing the beige minivan going ten under. Lynn sat next to her, leafing through the hefty collection of files and newspapers gathered in her lap. Yawning, Jayne glanced at Lynn out of the corner of her eye before switching back into the right lane.

"Anytime you feel ready to explain why the hell we're headed to Marietta, Ohio," Jayne commented dryly. "You go right ahead."

Lynn sighed. "I told you, I think there's a case there."

"But you don't know what we could possibly be hunting?"

Her stepsister sighed once again. "I don't know. Could be a spirit, a creature… a human nutcase…"

"Go through it one more time."

Lynn took a deep breath. "All right. In the past two months, Marietta's had five unexplained deaths. All young girls, all apparently suffocated in their beds."

"Ok…"

"All lived alone, none of their houses displayed signs of a break in…"

"Weird."

"No fingerprints, no hair, no evidence of foul play…"

"Other than all the dead girls, you mean."

"And then there's the case of Diana Grissini," Lynn barreled on, ignoring the snarky comment. "She claims to have woken up, feeling as though she were being suffocated… and is adamant that her attacker was invisible."

"Invisible attacker," Jayne mused. "All right. Where do we find Diana?"

"The psych ward of Marietta Memorial."

"Oh. Well, that's good. I'm all convinced now."

"Don't be a civvie," Lynn retorted. "You and I both know that half the crazy people out there really _have_ seen something unnatural, whether the doctors believe them or not."

"Yeah, yeah. Ok, so what's the game plan? Talk to Diana, check out the bodies…"

"Exactly."

"Well, if it's a spirit, there has to be a reason it targeted those particular girls. What do they have in common?"

"Uh… not much. They don't appear to have known one another, and they're all different backgrounds, socioeconomic classes…"

"Great," Jayne sighed again. "Well, this ought to be fun."

"We need this," Lynn told her. "We need a case to focus on. Now that…"

She didn't finish the sentence. She just swallowed, and looked back down at the paper in her hand.

Jayne sighed. "Now that Stephen bailed on us two weeks ago... again?" she finished.

Lynn didn't look up. "Something like that," she said.

They were quiet a long time. Finally, Jayne sighed again and pressed down a little harder on the gas. "All right," she said, forcing a grin. "Marietta here we come."

* * *

Lynn glanced around the too white, too bright, and too sterile hospital hallway. Her stepsister walked along not quite beside her, keeping one step back, and looking surly as usual. Taking a deep breath, Lynn approached the long circulation desk at the hub of the psych wing and cleared her throat.

"Hello," she greeted the nurse on duty.

The small brunette nurse in pale blue Snoopy scrubs looked up from her paperwork in surprise.

Lynn smiled down at her. "I'm Agent Rider, and this is Agent McGee," she introduced herself, flashing her badge and tilting her head in Jayne's direction. Her stepsister nodded stonily at the other woman as she too displayed her FBI badge.

"Oh," the woman said, her mouth hanging open. "Um… how can I help you?"

"We'd like to speak with one of your patients," Lynn told her. "Her name is Diana Grissini?"

The nurse immediately frowned. "Diana?" she asked. "Why would you want to speak with her?"

"We think she might have some information regarding the recent death of Tanya Levin," Lynn explained. "Not to mention the other four women who died over the past few months."

"So those women _were_ murdered?" the nurse asked incredulously. "But I thought the evidence was too…"

"Well that was before," Lynn interrupted her. "Things have changed in the past forty-eight hours. Now, can we speak with your patient?"

The nurse still looked unconvinced. "I don't know what the local police told you," she said. "But Diana isn't exactly a reliable witness. She's been suffering from delusions."

"Yeah, well, we'll be the judge of that," Jayne spoke up. Lynn winced at the churlish note to her sister's voice.

The nurse paled under the death stare Lynn's stepsister was giving her. Lynn mustered up a big smile for the poor woman. "May we see Diana now?" she asked.

The nurse nodded, giving Jayne a nervous glance out the corner of her eye. "Sure," she said rather meekly. "Right this way."

She stood up behind the desk and stepped out around it, leading the way down the hall.

Lynn followed close behind. Her stepsister was a few paces back, her arms folded across her chest, looking the nursing staff up and down as they passed them.

When it came to acting the Fed, Lynn sometimes wondered if Jayne maybe enjoyed it just a little too much.

The nurse opened one of the many white steel doors along the too bright and too white hallway. She held the door for the two women as they stepped inside.

"Diana, honey," she called. "A couple of federal agents are here to see you!"

Lynn blinked at the blonde woman sitting on the bed. Upon hearing her name, the girl flipped her long gold hair over her shoulder and turned to look at her guests, momentarily abandoning the magazine in her lap.

She was beautiful. Perfectly sculpted and delicate features, huge sparkling brown eyes, a golden tan, pouty lips…

Diana snorted, interrupting Lynn's inner cataloging of her features, and rolled her sparkling dark eyes. "Federal agents, huh?" she asked dryly. "Whoopee."

Lynn grabbed her lower lip with her teeth, raising an eyebrow at the surprisingly rude young woman.

"I'll just leave you three alone," the nurse said, shutting the door.

Jayne positioned herself against the wall by the exit. Lynn glanced at her stepsister momentarily, and then stepped forward, wearing a smile. "Miss Grissini?" she asked.

"You got it," Diana returned, flipping through the pages of her magazine. "Just like it says on the door. You must be climbing to the top of the FBI ladder with those deductive reasoning skills."

Lynn blinked. She glanced at Jayne again - who she found trying not to laugh.

After glaring at her stepsister, Lynn took a breath and addressed the surly young woman once again. "I'm Agent Rider," she said. "This is my partner, Agent McGee. We'd like to ask you some questions about the person who attacked you…"

"Let me stop you right there," Diana cut her off. "First off, I don't know what kind of crazy code you Fed types have that forces you to come out and talk to me, but let's not pretend like you believe me. You think I'm crazy. You're only here because five girls before me were found dead in their beds."

Diana slammed the magazine down on the mattress, and then turned to face the other two women in her room. Her super long, shapely, and perfectly tanned legs dangled over the side of the bed as she stared Lynn down with tough, narrowed eyes. "Secondly? I wasn't attacked by any person. Let's get that straight right now. I don't know of any person who can turn themselves invisible."

Lynn blinked again. She glanced at Jayne.

Jayne pushed herself off the wall and swaggered in Diana's direction. "Not a person, huh?" she asked. "Well then what was it?"

Diana redirected her glower at Jayne. "Why don't you tell me, Agent Molder? Cause I'm plum out of possibilities."

Jayne smirked. "You're not too happy about being locked up, are you?"

"I was molested," Diana retorted. "Some creep I can't even describe broke into my house and _molested_ me. Then I went and reported it, and I got shipped off to the funny farm. So, yeah. I guess you can say I'm kind of pissed off. See, I was under the impression that we were no longer operating in the Middle Ages, and that women everywhere had a legal right to report sexual abuse."

Jayne nodded. "Fair enough," she told the young woman. "I'd be pissed too."

Diana just stared at her.

"Still," Jayne went on, screwing up her face. "You know, flat out telling the cops the attacker was invisible? Claiming that whatever it was, was clearly not a person… well, what did you expect?"

"Jayne," Lynn admonished.

Her stepsister ignored her – as usual. "Now, where I come from," Jayne went on. "That kind of talk might get you a little more credibility than it does in Mayberry. But you, Miss Grissini… you are in Mayberry."

Diana frowned at Jayne. "Are you actually trying to tell me that you buy my story?"

Jayne shrugged. "Believe it or not."

Diana stared at Jayne for a moment. She glanced at Lynn, and then regarded both stepsisters with a raised eyebrow. "There is no way you two are from the Bureau," she announced.

"Which is exactly why we might be able to help you," Jayne returned.

Lynn stared at her stepsister in shock.

Diana looked just as flabbergasted. "Ok, so you two are impersonating federal agents, admitting to me that you are impersonating federal agents, and to put the icing on this big cake of crazy, you also believe me?"

Lynn tore her eyes from her stepsister and looked at Diana. She took a step closer, knelt down in front of the girl, and leveled with her.

"We do," she said. "One hundred percent believe you."

Diana stared at them a moment longer and then let out a low whistle. "Jesus," she said. "Got to say, I was _not_ expecting justice from a couple of Men in Black. Or, you know. Women."

"Just tell us what happened, Diana," Lynn said. "We can help."

* * *

Minutes after the interview with Diana Grissini, Jayne marched across the parking lot of Marietta Memorial at an unnecessarily quick pace, headed straight for her pickup. Her stepsister struggled to keep up with her long-legged strides. "So, now what?" Lynn asked.

Jayne shrugged, letting out a harsh puff of air. "Now we take a look at the bodies, talk to the guy at the morgue… interview friends and family of the deceased, even Diana…"

"See if there's any other connection to the deceased girls and Diana," Lynn finished. "Right."

"That guy she talked about," Jayne went on. "From the bar… the Horse's Head…"

They'd reached Janis by now, and Jayne unlocked the cab, swinging open the driver's side door. Lynn scampered around to the passenger's side as Jayne slid in behind the driver's wheel. As Jayne shut the door, Lynn opened hers and hopped up into the cab.

"Right," Lynn said, slamming the door. "The dude with the creepy ass Dracula thrall."

"Sounds like something we should look into," Jayne observed.

"Definitely," Lynn sighed. "But what has a thrall? I mean, that's a vampire myth… and from what I've read in Dad's notebooks, it's not one of the myths that holds any water."

"You got me by the short hairs," Jayne returned, starting the ignition. "Let's just finish checking out the bodies, interviewing the locals… and then we can hit the books."

"Great," Lynn returned sarcastically. "Sounds like the funnest afternoon of my life."

* * *

"I just don't get it."

Jayne looked up at her stepsister in surprise. Lynn was staring at the notes and photographs in front of her, shaking her head.

"I mean, I've never seen anything like this before," she went on. "Amy Richards, Natalie Davidson, Mary Todd, Jacquelyn Moreau, and Tanya Levin were all suffocated in their sleep, but with minimal evidence to suggest foul play? These girls went to bed one night and didn't wake up! How is there no evidence?"

She sighed harshly with frustration, flipping through her notes again. "No one can think of any suspects, no one remembers hearing or seeing anything… it's like they just stopped breathing! How is that possible?"

Jayne watched her stepsister vent her frustrations regarding the case with a raised eyebrow and no comment. She had some ideas, true, but she wanted her sister to let it all out first. See if they had missed something.

"And then there's Diana," she went on. "According to her, this thing didn't just try cutting off her air supply, it full on molested her! And yet there's no evidence to back up her claims, and she can't even give us a description of the attacker!"

Lynn threw her notebook on the table. "What can do something like this?"

Jayne took a deep breath, and tossed a yellow steno pad Lynn's way. "Well," she said. "I actually have a theory on that one."

Lynn blinked at her. "You do?"

"Yeah," Jayne sighed, getting to her feet. "I was leafing through some of Russ's notes, and this sounds sort of familiar."

"Really?" Lynn asked eagerly. She leaned forward on her elbows, blinking up at her stepsister hungrily. "Well, what's the theory?"

Jayne shrugged, pacing a little. "Well… I'm thinking it's an incubus."

Lynn blinked at her. "An incubus?" she repeated. "What, like the band?"

"No, not like the band!" Jayne snapped. "An incubus. It's a demon!"

"A demon?"

"Yeah," Jayne returned, pacing some more. "See that page in Russ's notebook? He's got all kinds of stuff on this thing."

Lynn glanced at the pad in question. "What is it?"

"I told you, an incubus is a demon," Jayne returned. "It's a demon that, uh…"

She trailed off, folding her arms over her chest. She stared at the window for a moment.

"It's a demon that's kind of famous for… for midnight copulations with mortal women."

Lynn blinked. "Want to run that by me again?"

"It's a demon that goes around chasing tail," Jayne snapped.

"What? You mean, like…"

"Some legends characterize an incubus as a kind of soul-sucker. You know, like the succubus?"

"Right," Lynn nodded. "A succubus incites lust in human men so they'll have sex with her, and consequently lose their souls."

"Exactly. Some legends show the incubus as the male counterpart. A male demon that does the same thing to mortal women a succubus does to mortal men."

"But that doesn't exactly fit with Diana's story…"

"Right," Jayne interrupted. "See, there are other incubus legends. An incubus was also thought to be sort of a stalker-esque, predatory demon. There are stories of these things coming into homes at night and, uh… having their way with sleeping women, whether they like it or not."

"Like Diana."

"Yeah. Like Diana. Or any of these other women who were suffocated in their sleep. While none of the legends actually cite the incubus as murdering his victims, a classic symptom of an incubus attack was awakening suddenly in the middle of the night and feeling a heavy weight on one's chest. Maybe this thing got a little carried away, you know, with the other women? Leaned a little too hard, cut off their air supply… you know."

"Yeah. I get you," Lynn sighed. "All right, well what about that guy Diana was talking about? The one she met in the bar?"

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that too. See, some incubus legends depict a forceful demon, others depict a persuasive one. Like the succubus, the incubus was supposedly able to incite sexual passions in women that only they could fulfill. Some incubi could put people into a deep sleep. They're supposed to pretty heavy duty demons."

"So, what? You think this demon has, like… a thrall?"

"Actually, that was what was I thinking," Jayne returned. "The incubi have all kinds of strange powers. Maybe this particular incubus has sort of a mind-control Dracula-like thrall thing going on."

"But demons have to possess people in order to do these types of things," Lynn pointed out. "Sure, the guy in the bar was corporeal, but what about when she was asleep…"

"The incubus is often associated with nightmares," Jayne replied. "Maybe she was just confused."

"Well, how the hell are we supposed to stop this thing?"

"Same way you stop any demon," Jayne said. "Exorcise the nasty bitch."

Lynn looked down at the notebook. "Right," she agreed. "But first we have to find it."

"Which could be difficult," Jayne nodded. "And honestly? The exorcism might not be a cinch to pull off either. Russ cites this seventeenth century friar named Ludovico Sinistrari? He talks about cases where exorcism plain didn't work – the incubus just laughed at his attempts. There are other things too. Once an incubus picks a victim, he sticks by the girl. This Sinistrari guy talks about how incubi can cause all kinds of mayhem if separated from their intended victim – there's this one story about an incubus picking up rocks and dropping them all around the bed it was sharing with this one chick… It's pretty messed up, Lynn. This thing could be harder to put down than most demons."

Lynn bent over Russ's notes, skimming through what her father had jotted down. She whistled. "Wow. I really know how to pick them, don't I?"

"What do you think?" Jayne asked. "Think we got ourselves an incubus?"

Lynn shrugged. "Yeah. Maybe. I don't know… how are we going to track this thing, Jaynie?"

"Well, Diana met that weird guy with the thrall at the Horse's Head bar, remember?" Jayne pointed out. "And I was looking through the police reports on the other five girls? Almost all of them spent a night at the Horse's Head with their friends within three days of their mysterious deaths."

Suddenly, Lynn's eyes lit up like a knowledge bulb had gone on over her head. "So you think this thing's been trawling the local bar?" she asked. "Sort of casing the joint, selecting his victims there?"

"Seems like a possibility."

"Makes sense. So what are you suggesting? We check out this bar?"

"Exactly. I say we go there, carouse the joint, check out the dudes – and the chicks – and see if we can't track this sucker down. I mean, we've got to track this thing somehow."

There was a long silence as Lynn looked over the notes from both her father's journal and the case reports. Jayne watched her in silence, awaiting her verdict.

"It's a good guess," she said finally. "It makes sense. I mean, these victims had almost nothing in common – except their appearances. All of them were young, hot, leggy blonde chicks."

"Mm-hmm."

"Which means, maybe we have an even better lead," Lynn said slowly. "Maybe… maybe when we go to this bar, we'll have another way of tracking this thing – maybe even trapping this thing."

"Yeah? What's that?'

"Well, to trap anything, you need bait. And we know what this thing likes… leggy blonde girls."

"Ok…"

"So we have the perfect bait already."

"We do?"

Lynn looked at her stepsister for a moment, with a meaningful expression on her face. Jayne kept frowning, not understanding at first what her stepsister was trying to say.

Finally, Lynn let loose an exasperated sigh. "Are you kidding me?" she near exploded. "What, do I need to give you a mirror?"

Jayne blinked. "What? You don't mean… Me?"

"Yeah, Jaynie. You. Do you see any other hot blonde chicks in this room?"

Jayne shook her head. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Am I blonde? Yeah, fine. Am I leggy? Well… sure. I _am_ taller than most girls. But I'm _not _hot."

"You did not just say that!"

"Oh, yes I did. There is nothing even remotely hot about me."

"Well, maybe not when you're wearing baggy flannels and biker boots," Lynn retorted. "But if you fixed your hair, threw on some mascara, and let the girls out every once in a while…"

"Lynn!"

"You're hot, Jaynie. More than hot, really. Pretty. Foxy."

"Don't call me that."

"You could totally be incubus bait."

"I don't want to be incubus bait!"

Lynn sighed heavily. "Yeah, well, I don't really want you to be either. But you can't deny that this is a halfway decent plan. I mean, this sucker isn't going to be easy to track. If we can get him to come to us…"

She trailed off, giving her sister a desperate, begging eye. "Maybe this is our best option."

Jayne stared at Lynn for a moment, and then finally sighed, relenting. "Think it'll work?"

"Do I think you're capable of luring in an incubus?" Lynn asked. "Definitely. Do I think this plan will work when it comes to exorcising the thing? Well… that one's kind of up in the air."

Jayne snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Maybe we should call in some backup," Lynn suggested.

"What? Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe to help kill that nasty bitch, as you put it?"

"We can handle one demon, Lynn."

"Oh really? This, from you? After the whole long 'incubi are bad ass' speech you just gave me?"

Jayne shrugged. "We're pretty bad ass ourselves."

She winked at her stepsister. Lynn rolled her eyes. "I think we should call the Winchesters," Lynn announced.

Jayne made a face. "No!"

"Well, then maybe the Hannigans."

"No!"

"Jaynie, if you're going to bait the trap, I need help watching your back."

"Well, maybe I shouldn't bait the trap."

"You think so?"

"No, I… look, if luring in this thing with my blonde hair is the best way to put down that sick son of a bitch, then hell yes, I say we do it. I will willingly be bait. But call in the Winchesters for help on this? Even the Hannigans… Lynn, we are perfectly capable of hunting on our own."

"No arguments there. We've _been_ hunting on our own all our lives and managing just fine. But still… this case feels different. You know that as well as I do. I would just feel more comfortable…"

"I still say no."

"Jaynie!"

"No, and that is my final answer."

There was a long silence. Lynn stared Jayne down, and Jayne stared back. Finally, Lynn sighed, holding up her hands in defeat.

"Fine," she said. "We won't call. We'll go it alone. You win."

"Thank you," Jayne replied.

Lynn nodded stiffly, and then stood up from behind the table. She marched towards her sister's side of the motel room and dragged Jayne's duffel out from under her bed.

"But that leaves us with bigger problems," she announced, tossing the bag onto the bed and unzipping it. She reached inside the duffel and yanked out the first thing she touched… which happened to be an old, fairly wrinkled plaid shirt. Lynn crinkled her nose in disgust.

"Like _what_ the _hell_ are you going to wear?"

* * *

Dean sighed heavily, leaning back against the headboard of the motel bed and flipping through the television channels. Sam was out, getting lunch, and Dean was tired of searching the Net for possible cases. What he wanted, he decided, was a break. He wanted to kick back and watch some TV and eat a burger… and for once, not worry about any demons or ghosts.

So when the phone rang, he rolled his eyes and let out a harsh, frustrated sigh. Dean fished the phone out of his pocket with a vicious tug and answered it without looking at the display screen.

"Hello?" he answered irritably.

"Dean?" asked the unmistakably female voice on the other end. "Hey, it's Lynn."

Dean froze, frowning. "Lynn?"

"Yeah. Um… what are you two doing?"

Dean's frown deepened at the question. "Um… just taking a break," he replied, sitting up and switching off the TV. "Looking for another gig…" Dean shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "Why are you calling me?"

"Well… um…" She sounded hesitant to explain. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, instantly dreading whatever it was that Lynn was about to tell him. "Jayne and I are on this hunt right now, and… well, I was wondering if maybe you guys could come help? Where are you right now?"

Still frowning, Dean returned, "Where are _you_?"

"Marietta, Ohio. Can you get here by tonight?"

Could he get to Marietta, Ohio by that night? Well, he supposed he could pull it off. The real question was this: why was Lynn calling him and asking him to drive like crazy to get there? Dean frowned again.

"Well… yeah, I guess so. You know, if I drive really fast. What's going on?"

Lynn sighed into the phone. "We're hunting this, um… this incubus."

An incubus. They were hunting an incubus.

Dean was quiet for a moment.

"Dean?" Lynn asked. "You still there?"

"Huh? Uh… yeah. You're hunting an incubus?"

"Yeah. At least, we think so. There's been all these women suffocating in their sleep, and we've got at least one woman who claims she was assaulted in her bed by an invisible attacker… anyway, Jayne thinks we're up against an incubus. We traced all the women back to this local bar? The Horse's Head? We think the demon might have caught their scent there, and so we're going to go feel this place out, you know? Try and track it?"

Dean immediately sensed there was more to the story than Lynn was telling. Suddenly, he was certain that whatever she had left out was the reason he was going to be speeding towards Marietta in roughly forty-five minutes. "Ok… so, why do you want our help?"

"Well, if you don't want to…"

"I didn't say that," Dean interrupted. "I just want you to tell me what's up."

Lynn sighed again. "Well… there's not much to connect the victims, you know? The only thing they seem to have in common is… uh… well, this thing seems to have kind of a blonde fetish, you know?"

There was a sinking feeling in the bottom of Dean's gut. "Don't you tell me what I think you're going to tell me."

"Well, we just thought it'd be easier to track this thing if we had, you know… the right kind of bait?"

"You are _not_ dressing Jayne up in some slutty outfit and sitting her out in this bar to be demon chow!"

"Um… actually, we are."

"Damn it, Lynn!" Dean exploded. "Are you two stupid, or just suicidal?"

"Hey, why do you think I'm calling you?" Lynn snapped back. "Jayne would kill me if she knew, but… but I'm getting kind of worried, and… well, I'd feel more comfortable if we had some back up. And… you two seemed like our best option."

"God damn it," Dean swore again. "All right. When are you two going to this bar?"

"Um… tonight."

"Well, stall as long as you can," Dean snapped. "Sam and I will hit the road as soon as possible."

"All right. Thanks, Dean."

"You two are idiots!" Dean retorted. "I swear, if something happens to that girl…"

"Why, Dean," she interrupted. Her tone had turned quite suddenly from sheepish to sly. "I had no idea you cared this much about Jayne."

Dean suddenly felt his ears turn red. "What?" he snapped. "I don't… what are you…"

"Oh, sorry. I probably shouldn't have said that, huh? Me and my big mouth… I didn't mean to embarrass you, Dean."

"I'm not embarrassed!"

"Really? Cause you sound kind of embarrassed…"

"I'm not embarrassed!" Dean shouted into the phone again. "I don't… look, do you want my help or not?"

"Of course I want your help. I asked for it, didn't I?"

"Great. Then I'll help. Just… just stop… whatever it is you're doing. Got it?"

"Thanks, Dean," Lynn said. He could hear a smile in her voice. "I really appreciate this. You're a good guy."

"Bite me."

"I'll see you soon. Don't drive too recklessly."

She hung up the phone.

Dean glowered at his cell for a moment before hanging up as well. Suddenly he was twice as frustrated as he'd been already.

He tossed the phone violently at the bed.

"God damn it!"

* * *

Jayne was seriously beginning to regret this whole being bait business.

She examined herself in the bathroom mirror, fidgeting uncomfortably in the short red halter dress her sister had made her wear. She was unused to showing so much skin. She was unused to wearing anything so ornamented – the halter was decorated with turquoise beadwork. And more importantly, she was unused to the three inch heels her sister had made her put on.

"Would you hurry up in there?" Lynn bellowed from the next room.

"Coming!" Jayne called back. Then she sighed, returning to her reflection.

Her hair was down, for the first time in a long time. Lynn had curled it, which was also something that hadn't happened for quite some time. Her stepsister had even put some mascara and lipstick on her.

Jayne didn't care for any of it. There was a reason none of this had happened for a while.

"Jayne!" Lynn called again.

"One second!"

She pulled on the dress again, and wiped away some mascara from under her bottom lash line. Then she frowned at herself in the mirror.

This was a seriously misguided plan.

The bathroom door swung open and Lynn popped her head inside. "Jaynie," she said in mild irritation. "You look absolutely freaking foxy. All right? Now stop worrying, and get your ass in gear."

Jayne sighed again, turning to her stepsister. "I don't look like me," she said. "It's very vexing."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "You not looking like you is the least of our worries right now."

"I'm wearing heels," Jayne pointed out. "You better not expect me to run."

"All I expect you to do is sit and look pretty," Lynn retorted with a smirk. "I'll take care of the rest, babe."

Lynn winked. This time, Jayne rolled her eyes. "This is a bad plan," she announced.

"They all are," Lynn returned. "Now let's get this freak show on the road, all right?"

Jayne glanced at her reflection one more time. She sighed once more, and then turned back to Lynn.

"All right," she said. "I'm ready."

* * *

"Wow. This place is _not_ for the faint hearted."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's comment. "Yeah, maybe not," he returned dryly. "So, um… how about we keep remarks like that to ourselves?"

"Whatever."

Sam entered the Horse's Head a few steps ahead of his brother, glancing around the bar. His brother was not wrong. While it wasn't the redneck nightmare his brother was making it out to be, the Horse's Head wasn't exactly family friendly either. It was a large place, packed to the brim with people, with loud thumping music booming out on oversized speakers. The bar was dimly lit, and its customers were loud and drunk. The dance floor in the center was tightly jammed with bar patrons grinding against one another. Young women were dressed in tight, short, cleavage baring dresses, and the men were wearing tight jeans and heavy boots. Actually, a lot of the men reminded Sam of his older brother.

So it _was_ a bit of a nightmare, especially for Sam. He loved Dean and all, but a bar full of multiple Deans was, well… a tad unsettling.

"So… why are we here again?" Sam asked as they fought their way through the crowd, searching for signs of Lynn or Jayne.

"I told you. Your little girlfriend called me up this afternoon, asking for backup… because your little girlfriend…"

"Please stop calling her that."

"…and her stupid stepsister are hunting an incubus that – conveniently enough – likes blonde chicks. And so – this is my favorite part – they stupidly decided to offer up Jayne as bait."

"Wow," Sam commented. "You sound kind of pissed."

"Of course I'm pissed, Sam," Dean snapped. "I mean, what the hell were they thinking? Putting her out there like that…"

"She's an experienced hunter, Dean," Sam pointed out. "She can take of herself."

"I know that!" Dean retorted. "She's great at what she does – when she's in her element. But take her out of her element, and then…"

"And then what?"

"Well, come on, Sam! She's going to be wearing some stupid slutty outfit, with makeup caked all over face, and… and she's not used to that shit, you know? It's going to throw her off!"

"If Jayne's anything, it's adaptable."

Dean sighed harshly. "You don't know her like I do."

Sam blinked, stopping suddenly in his tracks. His older brother nearly ran into him. "Dude, what the hell?" Dean asked irritably.

Sam tilted his head, appraising his brother. "Did I just hear you right?"

Dean stared at him for a moment. "Shut up," he said finally, brushing past Sam and taking the lead.

Sam stared at his brother's back for a moment, and then shook his head, deciding to let the subject drop. He began pushing his way through the crowd again, following close behind Dean. "I just don't understand why Lynn called _you_," he said.

Dean cackled. Sam didn't care for it. "What's the matter, Sammy? Jealous?"

"Of course not," he retorted. "I just don't get it. Lynn doesn't even like you that much."

"What are you talking about? She loves me."

"Ok… if that's what you need to think…"

"Well, I know she likes me better than you right now."

"Sure. Because she's so mad at me. You know, remind me again exactly what has you so convinced that Lynn's pissed off at me?"

Dean snorted. "Trust me, Sam. She's mad at you."

"How can you tell?"

"Because I've dealt with my share of crazy women," Dean retorted. "And I know the look. Lynn's definitely got the look."

"She's not crazy."

"Yeah, well she's not sane either."

Sam sighed, irritated. He fell silent as the two of them continued fighting their way through the crowd.

Suddenly, he saw her.

She'd straightened her hair. The shoulder length black locks were perfectly arranged around her face, looking even softer than usual. Her dark jeans were just tight enough, hugging her curvaceous hips, and she was wearing a yellow halter top with a neckline that plunged deep between her breasts.

Lynn looked gorgeous. Sam began to think he'd missed the memo, and it was Lynn who was supposed to be bait for the night.

"Wow," he said before he could stop himself.

"What?"

Sam moved his mouth a few times without making actual words come out. He gestured in Lynn's direction. "I, um… I see… Lynn's over there."

Dean followed the point. "Oh," he said appreciatively. "Wow. That's uh… one very yellow shirt."

"Yellow looks nice on her," Sam commented defensively.

Dean snorted, glancing at Sam. "Oh yeah," he agreed. "She looks like an incredibly sexy banana."

"Shut up," Sam retorted, shoving his brother in the shoulder.

"No, I'm serious. That is a banana I would fuck."

"Please don't say things like that."

"You wouldn't fuck her?"

"Dean!"

"What?"

They'd reached the small table where Lynn had situated herself. She'd noticed them now and was getting to her feet, waving in their direction. Sam fell silent, but not before giving his brother one last petulant look. "I hate you."

Dean cackled again. "I know you do," he replied.

The two brothers came to a stop in front of Lynn's table. "Hey," she greeted them with a big smile. "Thank you guys so much for coming out here! I know I didn't give you much notice…"

"Don't sweat it," Dean cut her off. Sam tensed at his brother's sudden change in attitude. He oozed irritation and contempt. "I mean, it's not like we had much choice, with you bartering your stepsister off to demons and all."

Sam saw Lynn's lips get tight. "That's not exactly what's happening here…"

"Right," Dean smirked. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."

Lynn's dark eyes narrowed. Suddenly, without warning, she hauled off and kicked Dean in the shin.

His brother winced, stumbling back in pain. "Ow!"

"Do not talk to me like I don't care about my sister, Dean Winchester," Lynn snapped. "Or next time, I'm going to kick you somewhere else."

Dean made a face at her. "That's gratitude for you."

"I appreciate you doing this for us," Lynn returned. "And I know you're only being an asshole right now because you're worried about Jayne. Which I also appreciate. But do not treat me like I don't care every bit as much as you do. I won't stand for it."

There was a silence. "Ok," Sam said finally. "So, um… where _is_ Jayne?"

"She's coming soon," Lynn replied. "We staggered our arrival times. You know, just in case."

She took her seat again. Sam sat beside her a little too quickly, and mentally cursed himself for once again acting like a high school kid in her presence. Dean sprawled out in a chair across from them, resting his arm on the back of the chair and turning around to check out the rest of the bar.

"So, um…" Sam swallowed, fishing for things to say. "You, uh… you look… you look nice."

Lynn stared at him a moment, before giving him a rather strained smile. "Thanks."

They were quiet again. Dean was drumming his fingers on the back of the chair, tapping his foot anxiously. "Where the hell is that woman?" he asked.

Sam glanced at Lynn. She gave him a short knowing look, and then addressed Dean. "She's coming."

Dean sighed harshly, still scanning the room. Sam turned to Lynn again, smiling. "He's, uh… worried about Jayne being out of her element," he offered.

Lynn nodded. "I see that."

They fell into awkward silence once again.

And Sam was forced to concede that maybe Dean _did_ know what he was talking about, after all.

* * *

Worst plan ever.

Dean fully maintained that. He'd thought dressing Jayne up and using her to bait the incubus trap was a terrible idea from the moment Lynn had told him about it, and he now remained more convinced than ever.

With every second that passed, Dean became more and more certain that this was a doomed plan. Jayne still hadn't shown yet, and he was getting more worried and tense with every minute that went by. He was so anxious that he'd even stopped noticing all the hot girls in the bar that night.

He was going to kill Jayne when he finally managed to talk to her. As if she didn't infuriate him enough already, now she was making him miss out on tail! Not to mention, if something happened to her…

Then he saw the woman in the red dress.

Dean's eyes roved up and down the female body in front of him. She was weaving in and out of the people crowded into the bar, and it was hard to get a good look at her. But Dean liked what he could see. Long, bouncy, light blonde hair, slender waist, an ass that… it was hard to explain. It curved just enough, you know? And those legs – god, those legs! They went on for miles.

"Damn," he announced. "Sammy, check out the blonde. Ten' o'clock."

Even though Sam pretended not to check out the blonde, Dean saw him look. His little brother then gave him an incredulous look. "Are you serious right now?"

Dean returned the incredulity. "Are you?"

"Um, Dean?" Lynn spoke up. "That's Jayne."

"What?" Dean looked at Lynn like she was crazy. "No it's not."

"Yes it is," Lynn retorted. "That's Jayne. So please don't creep on her. Because, you know. Creepy."

"No way," Dean replied, shaking his head. "That's Goldilocks?"

Lynn nodded, clearly annoyed by this point. "Yeah. I think I know my own sister. Please stop objectifying her."

Dean looked again. Same great ass. Same long sexy legs. Same bouncy blonde locks.

The blonde in question glanced nervously over her shoulder. And then Dean knew.

She was wearing makeup. Lynn must have put it on her. But he would recognize that face anywhere. The long thin nose, the high cheekbones, the startling gray eyes.

And of course, the uncomfortable, slightly annoyed expression.

She hated that dress. She hated those heels. She hated being in that crowd.

And Dean suddenly hated Lynn for putting her there.

She kept picking her way through the crowd. Dean continued following her movements with his eyes, watching her walk on long tripping legs. He could tell she was uncomfortable by the way she moved just a little too fast. Still, her gait was almost graceful, in an awkward way – sort of like a young deer. Dean began to wonder how he hadn't seen her before.

Jayne sat at the bar. He heard Lynn breathe in sharply as her sister took her seat and the bartender approached her.

"Don't order the beer, don't order the beer, don't order the beer…" Lynn mumbled beside him.

It took a lot of energy not to choke her.

The bartender sat something pink in front of Jayne.

"Good girl," Lynn sighed in relief.

Dean glared at her.

Jayne took a sip of her drink. A young dark haired man sitting a few stools down moved to the available seat beside her. Jayne looked up at his arrival and the young man flashed her a wide, toothy grin.

Dean clenched his fists. That was _his_ grin. He knew all too well what that grin meant.

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Dean stared at Jayne, suddenly incredibly pissed off. This was a stupid idea. He'd said so in the beginning. And now that it was in action...

"Oh, you better be our guy," he heard Lynn mutter. "Cause if you're not a demon, mister, you can just hit the road. Like now."

"I can't believe you're going through with this," Dean snapped.

Lynn blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"Don't you give a damn about your stepsister?" Dean demanded. "What if something happens to her? It's an _incubus_, Lynn, and you're dangling Jayne like bait on a hook!"

"It was the only…"

"Bull! It wasn't the only way – it was the easy way!" Dean shook his head and let loose one bitter chuckle. "You put her in that damn dress, and those stupid shoes… where is she hiding her gun?"

"In her purse," Lynn retorted.

"Great!" Dean exclaimed sarcastically. "But what if that thing gets the better of her, huh? We're in a crowded bar – what if no one can get to her in time?"

"You think I'm not worried!" Lynn all but shouted. "Why do you think I called you? I'm terrified right now!"

Dean was effectively hushed.

"But she's a big girl," Lynn went on. "She can handle herself. And either way, we have an incubus on the loose here. So if this helps us stop it… well, then this helps us stop it."

Dean didn't have a retort. He settled for glaring at Lynn a little while longer. Then he gave in, and returned his gaze to the bar.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

It was taking a lot of energy to pretend she didn't know the three hunters sitting across the bar.

Jayne was livid. Her stepsister had gone and called up those stupid boys and now they were _here_, at this bar, staring at her while she was dressed up in this ridiculous outfit…

She was going to kill Lynn. She really was.

The bartender sat down a pink drink in front of her. Jayne looked up in surprise. "I didn't order this," she said.

The man pointed down the bar at a young kid with shaggy brown hair and a cocksure smile. Jayne instantly hated him.

He moved down the bar and took the stool next to her. "Hey there," he grinned. "I took the liberty of buying you a drink. I hope that's all right."

What Jayne wanted to tell him was that buying her a drink without asking what she wanted was certainly _not_ all right, and that she wasn't even remotely interested in him – seriously, could the guy be more insufferable? He'd barely spoken to her yet, and Jayne already wanted to yank out his voice box. And the guy was definitely younger than her, that she could tell right off the bat. He looked more Sam's age, which Jayne definitely wasn't comfortable with. Maybe Lynn was cool with the older woman dates younger man thing… and, all right, Sam was only two years younger than Lynn… but that made him four years younger than Jayne, and she had a slight problem with that.

However, she refrained from saying any of that. If this was their guy, she couldn't chase him away just yet.

"That's fine," Jayne told him, faking a smile. "Thanks a lot."

He had to know she didn't mean it. Jayne couldn't fake friendliness to save her life. But the guy just grinned back and started asking her questions.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"Nope."

"Visiting someone?"

"Just passing through."

"Where are you from?"

"Uh… here and there."

The guy raised an eyebrow. "So you're one of them drifter types?" he asked. "I could get into that sort of thing."

Jayne gave him another fake smile.

"So, Good-lookin' what's your name?"

Goodlookin'?

"Veronica."

"That's a pretty name. I'm Todd."

"Hi, Todd."

"You know, when you walked in the bar I noticed you right away."

Jayne took a gulp from whatever it was that the kid had ordered her. She made a face. It was disgusting.

"I mean, you are seriously a knock-out."

Jayne forced more of the nasty pink thing down her throat.

"I mean, that hair! It's almost down to your ass!"

"Is it?" Jayne asked dryly.

"And speaking of that… I mean, wow. Great ass."

Jayne had had enough. She opened her purse, ready to grab the Holy Water and not caring if she made a scene. "Cristo," she snapped.

The kid blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Cristo," she repeated, giving him another sickeningly sweet smile.

Todd looked around, confused. "Is that like something people say from wherever you were hanging out last?"

"Thanks for the drink, Todd," Jayne returned, sliding it back towards him. "You can go now."

Todd blinked, muttered something under his breath that couldn't be complimentary, and then disappeared into the throng.

"Don't like the drink?" the bartender asked.

Jayne looked up at the question. The bartender smiled knowingly at her, shrugging a pair of large, broad-muscled shoulders.

"Not really," Jayne told him. "Can I get a beer?"

* * *

Lynn sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair.

"She's been through four guys, and so far nothing," Lynn complained. "And, I might add, she wasn't very nice to any of them."

"What do you expect?" Dean retorted. He glanced nervously in Jayne's direction once again. "It's Goldilocks."

He sounded vaguely proud of her, which confused Lynn, but she chose not to mention it.

"The only one she's even smiled at – and I'm talking a genuine smile – is that bartender," Lynn continued to grumble. "I mean, the man is pretty cute and all…"

"What?" Dean snapped.

"But still. We need to be thinking big picture here, Jaynie! Stop scaring away our suspects!"

"I'm sure Jayne got a feel for who those four guys were before she sent them on their way," Sam reasoned beside her. "Those guys probably weren't our demon."

"Whatever," Lynn mumbled, glowering at her stepsister. "I just mean… there's a certain attitude that Jayne puts out, and even in a tight red dress, that attitude might just scare away what we're looking for."

"It's a demon," Dean retorted. "What does Jayne's attitude have to do with anything?"

He was getting surly on the subject. Lynn raised her eyebrow.

"Ok…" she said, holding up her hands. "Someone's upset."

"Of course I'm upset," Dean snapped. "We've been over this already!"

Lynn fell silent. She glanced at Sam, who bunched up his nose in a knowing expression. Lynn gave him a smile for the effort – another very strained smile, which was all she'd been able to give him the whole night.

She wasn't being fair to the boy. She knew that. Sam had baggage. She couldn't just expect Sam to drop all that baggage and jump in the sack with her.

And yet a tiny part of her – ok, a rather large part of her – was quite miffed that he hadn't.

Lynn scanned the bar, thinking to herself about the Winchester boys and the headaches that also seemed to accompany them whenever they showed their faces. Sam was one thing, but now Dean was acting like… like… like a jealous…

He was kind of acting like Danny Hannigan.

Lynn would have laughed if she wasn't so annoyed. Great. Dean Winchester liked her stepsister. That was just… fantastic.

Suddenly, Lynn saw something that made all the bitter and irritated thoughts stop.

Across the bar, in a fairly obscure corner, there was a tiny blonde girl struggling to stay on her feet. A tall, thin, brown haired boy was holding her up by her wrists and guiding her towards the back exit, despite the fact that the girl was struggling against him. Even though she tried to pull back, the girl seemed unable to get away. She didn't look happy about it, but she did follow the boy, allowing him to move her mechanically towards the doors.

"Ok, that might be our guy," she announced, pointing in the direction of the couple.

Both boys turned their heads. "Whoa," Dean commented. "That girl is smashed."

"Or under a thrall," Lynn returned, getting to her feet. "We better check it out."

"What about Jayne?" Dean asked.

For a moment, she was torn. Lynn glanced at her stepsister and saw her talking with the bartender. Jayne even laughed.

Then she returned her gaze to the girl being led out the back way.

"Even if that's not the demon," Lynn decided. "We have to help that girl."

"All right," Sam agreed, getting to his feet as well. "I'll come with you."

"I'll stay here," Dean immediately volunteered. "Keep an eye on Jayne."

"Thanks, Dean," Lynn smiled gratefully at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Take good care of her."

"Yeah, yeah."

Lynn squeezed the older brother's shoulder, and then raced off towards the back exit, Sam hot on her heels.

"Think that's the demon?" Sam asked as they pushed their way across the dance floor.

Lynn shrugged. "Maybe. Either way, I'm _so _going to be kicking someone's ass."

* * *

"See that guy over there?"

The bartender gestured in Dean's direction. Jayne glanced over at the other hunter and immediately noticed the dirty look Dean was giving the both of them from the opposite side of the bar.

"He's been checking you out all night," the bartender told her, smirking.

Jayne snorted. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't you feel lucky? Out of all the girls in this bar, Arthur Fonzarelli chose you."

Jayne laughed out loud.

The bartender's name was Davy. He was a tall, broad shouldered man in his late twenties with dark hair buzzed close to his scalp. His gray tee shirt was a little too tight and his arm muscles bulged out of the sleeves. He had light blue eyes, and his face was covered in stubble.

Jayne couldn't help but think he was sexy.

"It's your own fault, you know," Davy informed her. "Bouncing up in here with your hair all curled and wearing that foxy dress… it's like you want to be a douchebag magnet."

"You're not funny," Jayne told him.

"Really? Then why are you smiling?"

"Shut up."

Jayne took another sip of her beer, feeling mildly guilty. She was supposed to be trawling for demons, not talking to the cute bartender. But none of the men who'd come up to her had been demons, and now Sam and Lynn had disappeared. There was only one reason for the two of them to have vanished; they'd seen someone they thought was a dead-ringer for an incubus.

So Jayne figured she was pretty much off the hook. And she'd never really met a cute guy who'd shown an interest in her who wasn't a total douchebag. It seemed a shame to waste the opportunity.

Davy leaned his elbows on the bar, his face mere inches from hers. He smirked and Jayne raised an eyebrow.

His eyes were really blue.

"So, how old are you?" he asked. "Twenty two? Twenty three?"

Jayne raised an eyebrow. "Twenty-six," she replied. "Not that it's any of your business."

The bartender laughed. "That old, huh?" he winked. "Well, I got to say, that's kind of a relief."

Jayne snorted. "Oh really. Why's that?"

Davy didnt answer. He just smiled.

"My shift's about over," he told her.

"Really."

He leaned closer. "What do you say we get out of here?"

Of course, she couldn't leave with the sexy bartender. She had demons to hunt and a stepsister to check back with, lest she get the scolding of a lifetime… not to mention the brooding hunter on the other side of the bar giving both her and the bartender death glowers…

"Sure," she found herself saying.

He smiled again. "Excellent."

Davy turned his back on her, wiping down a few glasses sitting behind him. Jayne frowned, giving her head a little shake. She'd fully intended to say no, and yet…

That was weird.

A sinking feeling developed in the pit of Jayne's stomach. She suddenly glanced in Dean's direction, feeling slight panic.

His eyes met hers from across the bar. He frowned at her. Slowly, he got to his feet.

"Ready to go?"

Jayne turned back to Davy, her mouth open and ready to say no. But he was leaning on the bar again, and his eyes were directly in front of hers.

She nodded, her mouth slowly closing back up.

Davy grinned, stepping around the bar. He took her hands in his, helping her down from the barstool, and leading her towards the back exit.

He never took his eyes from hers.

Jayne followed him, not wanting to follow and not sure why she was doing it, but she followed him all the way along the bar, across the dance floor, and out into the back hall.

For a brief moment, he let go of her hands and turned away from her, taking a few steps down the hallway.

That's when things got clear.

Jayne stared at Davy's back, stock still in the back hall. He looked at her over his shoulder.

"Cristo," she said.

His eyes went black.

Jayne stepped back, fingers fumbling for her purse.

In the time it took to reach for her holy water, Davy had already wound up directly in front of her and grabbed her by the arms. Suddenly, Jayne's back hit the wall.

She tried to leap forward – tried and failed. Although Davy had let go of her, although he was no longer touching her at all, she still couldn't move. She'd been pinned to the wall by some invisible force. Though she tried to struggle, only her eyes would move.

Davy tilted his head, studying her. "You know," he said, smirking. "I knew, from the moment I saw you walk in here that you were a woman on a mission. You were looking for someone."

Jayne stared at him.

"And I just knew," Davy went on, stepping closer. "That I was that someone. You were looking for me, weren't you?"

"I'm going to send you right back where you came from," she snapped, still trying to move. No matter how hard she struggled, her muscles did nothing but twitch.

He smirked broader, leaning in closer. "I know what you are," he whispered, his hot breath hitting her cheek.

Jayne looked away from him, throat constricting with repulsion.

"You're a hunter," Davy went on in his raspy undertone, still breathing on her skin. "Your kind's come after me before."

He leaned back slightly to look her in the eye, leering at her. Jayne glared at him.

"But none like you," he hissed. "You're such a pretty hunter."

"Go to Hell," she retorted.

"Been there. Done that." He grinned, leaning in against her, flattening her body between his and the wall. His hand twisted itself in her hair.

"Such a pretty hunter," he repeated, whispering in her ear.

Jayne looked away, turning her head as far as it would go. The invisible force still bound her against the wall, making it impossible to move, to fight back. His wet lips pressed against the skin on her neck.

She felt his fingers in her hair, his warm, damp mouth making its way down her neck. Jayne swallowed, feeling sick. "Get off me."

He ignored her.

"Get off me!"

His tongue slithered out between his lips.

"Get off her!"

Jayne's eyes shifted instantly in the direction of the new voice. Davy lifted his head, searching out the source of the noise. Before the demon could do a thing, a fist flew directly into Davy's face.

The man fell backwards, hitting the ground. Jayne watched with wide eyes, unable to move off the wall, as Dean leapt on top of the demon and squirted holy water in his eyes.

Davy shrieked and hissed, steaming like a sautéed shrimp. Dean slugged him in the face once again, and then doused him with the holy water all over his face and torso.

"You're going back to Hell, you sick son of a bitch!" Dean bellowed.

The demon lunged forward off the ground, still screaming and hissing. Dean dodged a punch, grabbing Davy's wrist and smacking him in the face again.

Suddenly Dean flew backwards, off the demon, and hit the ground five feet away.

Then Davy's head snapped back and a cloud of black smoke funneled out his mouth and down the hall, where it disappeared.

The force pinning Jayne to the wall vanished. With nothing holding her up, she fell over, slumping to the side and hitting the ground.

"Jayne!" Dean shouted, leaping to his feet. He ran to her side, falling to his knees in front of her. "Jaynie!"

He grabbed her arms, hauling her into a sitting position. His face was two inches away from hers, his eyes searching hers in panic. "Jayne!"

"I'm fine," she snapped, pulling her arm from his hand.

He still wouldn't get out of her face. "Are you sure?" he demanded.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a shaking hand. "I'm fine," she repeated, glaring at him. "And do me a favor? Don't call me Jaynie!"

Dean's eyes had been wide with concern only seconds ago. Now he narrowed them at her, his jaw tightening. "You're welcome," he spat.

Jayne stared at him for a moment. He looked over at the unconscious man still lying on the floor. She waited until he returned his gaze to her and then looked him straight in the eye.

"Thank you," she said.

He stared back. Then he nodded.

Dean stood, extending his hand. Jayne took it, letting him haul her to her feet. He held her by the arms for a moment, looking her up and down with a critical eye. Then he smirked, chortling slightly.

"What?" she frowned.

He snorted. "You're a freaking tree."

Jayne stared at him for a moment, confused by the comment, until she remembered the heels. Suddenly, she realized she was at least one inch taller than Dean Winchester.

"Shut up," she snapped, shoving him off her. She stumbled backwards with the effort, and Dean grabbed her again, steadying her on her feet.

"Timber!" he quipped, still smirking.

Jayne smacked him in the chest.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, indignant. "It was just a joke, buzz kill."

"I'm not laughing."

"I noticed." Dean glanced around the hallway, taking her by the hand. She was so surprised by the gentle gesture that she quite forgot to yank her hand away. "I'm getting you out of here."

He practically dragged her down the hall to the back exit. Jayne hurried after him, still attached to him by the wrist. Dean blew through the back doors, hauling her after him, and made a beeline for the Impala.

The next few minutes passed in a blur. One moment, they were racing across the parking lot through the cold night air. The next, she was seated in the passenger seat of Dean's Impala, trying to catch her breath.

He slid in behind the wheel and started the car. The engine rumbled to life and Zeppelin leaked out the speakers.

Jayne stared straight out the windshield, taking deep, steadying breaths. Dean turned his head tentatively in her direction.

"You all right?" he asked.

She looked back at him. "I said I was fine."

"I know," Dean replied. "I just… don't believe you."

Jayne arched an eyebrow.

"You know," he went on. "Like at all."

Jayne fought the smirk trying to form around the corners of her mouth. "Just drive," she said.

Dean stared at her a second longer, and then nodded once, returning his eyes to the windshield. "You got it, Goldilocks," he replied. Then he shifted out of park and hit the gas, tearing out of the parking lot so fast his tires squealed.


	35. Stalked

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Big thank yous to ksirrah, SingingInTheRain1989, angeleyenc, Nelle07, Lov3good, Dea, impalame, legrowl, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, deansbabygirl934, Spelllesswonder29, Padme4000, Joan J., ScrewReality_23, Ace, M*YP, PushUpDasies, Dean's Wife, and skm228 for all the reviews!

P.S. I've been getting a lot of questions about whether or not I'm going to continue this story throughout the rest of the seasons, and I've decided that there can be no harm in answering those questions so… the answer is yes. I'm planning on continuing. At the very least, I've got ideas. ;) Thanks again! Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 35: Stalked

Lynn could still hear the loud thumping music from the bar behind her. She stood motionless under the yellow circle of light from the street lamp, eyes darting from one corner of the deserted parking lot to the other. Beside her, Sam was craning his head in all directions, his forehead and lips crumpled up into a confused pout.

It was adorable.

"Hear any screams?" she asked dryly.

Sam shook his head. "Definitely not."

Lynn frowned, chewing her bottom lip as she glanced around the lot. Suddenly, she froze and smacked Sam on the arm.

"Ow," Sam said.

"Buick," she returned, pointing to the left of the lot. "Inside lights are on."

Sam raised an eyebrow, appearing mildly impressed. "Good job."

Lynn gave him a brief smirk before racing off in the direction of the Buick. Sam followed close behind. She tore across the pavement, pulling her Glock from her jeans as she ran, and rounded the Buick's back bumper.

Creepy thin guy from the bar was crouching on the pavement beside the open back door. He jumped when Lynn appeared, and then leapt off his knees at the sight of the Glock, his hands in the air. "I didn't do anything!"

The tiny blonde girl he'd been trying to shove into the back of his Buick struggled to sit up, whimpering the whole way. Lynn took one look at her tear stained face and advanced furiously on the young kid, Glock pointed at his head.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, retreating.

She swung her right leg out, hooking him behind his knees. He fell backwards on the pavement and she stomped down on his throat, the pointy toe of her tan boot exerting just enough pressure on his Adam's apple to be uncomfortable.

Lynn felt more than she saw Sam arrive at her side. "Holy water!" Lynn barked at him, her Glock still pointed directly between the boy's eyes.

"What?" the kid exclaimed incredulously.

Sam obligingly dug a flask out of his jacket, his fingers fumbling, and splashed the water in the kid's face.

Nothing happened.

The kid's incredulous expression intensified. "What the hell is wrong with you people?"

"He's human," Sam announced in confusion, wrinkling up his nose.

"Yeah, I'm human!" the kid shouted at them. "What the hell else would I be, you freaks?"

"Oh, _we're_ the freaks?!" Lynn exploded.

"Scott, what's happening?"

The shaking girl in the back of the Buick had finally found her voice. Her voice turned out to be a little too high pitched and her words came out incredibly slurred, but Lynn understood her well enough to begin suspecting she'd made a mistake.

"It's all right, Gemma. Stay in the car."

Lynn glanced at Sam. He'd grabbed his lower lip between his teeth and was looking almost sheepish.

"I want to go home," Gemma sniffed. "Please, I just want to go home."

Crap.

"Um…" Lynn began, and quickly finished, finding herself at a loss for words.

"Look," the boy named Scott announced, lifting his head ever so slightly from the concrete with his hands still up in the air. "The girl in the car is my girlfriend. Right, Gemma?"

"Scott, what's going on? Who are these people?"

Scott pushed on without addressing his girlfriend's question. "She got really smashed in there, and I just want to take her home. Is that ok with you people?"

"Um, sure," Sam spoke up. "Of course. Sorry, we just… thought you were someone else."

"Yeah," Lynn said, clearing her throat in her embarrassment. She released the kid's windpipe and stepped back, lowering her weapon.

The kid sat up, shaking his head and muttering about freaks and weirdoes, and then headed to his car, fastening his girlfriend into the backseat. Then, with one last irritated look over his shoulder, he climbed into the driver's seat, started the ignition, and tore out of the parking lot.

Lynn watched his bright red rear lights disappear down the dark highway with a petulant pout, her gun hanging uselessly from her hand.

"Whoops," Sam offered, shrugging his large shoulders.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Yeah," she snapped. "Whoops."

They stood silently in the parking lot for a few moments, and then Lynn let loose a loud, harsh, frustrated sigh. "Damn it, Sam!"

He frowned at her. "What did I…?"

She was stomping away from him, back across the parking lot and towards the bar, before he'd even finished his sentence.

He followed her, keeping a lengthy distance between them. Lynn chose to be annoyed by this as well.

By the time the two of them had fought their way back inside the bar, waded through the crowd, and reached the spot where they'd left the other two hunters, both Dean and Jayne were gone.

"Well, that's just great!" Lynn shouted over the music.

Sam sighed, shrugged, and put his hands in his pockets. He didn't look her in the eye.

"Motel," Lynn ordered, stomping back towards the exit.

Once again Sam followed, still keeping as far behind her as possible. Lynn tried to ignore this as she dug the keys to the truck out of her purse, shoving people out of her way as she headed to the door.

But it was impossible to ignore being ignored, and Lynn never had cared for that feeling very much anyway. Her impatience and irritation grew by leaps and bounds. Couple that with the sudden anxiety she felt over her stepsister's disappearing act, and it made for a very teed off woman.

The hunt from Hell, she decided, vaguely aware she'd decided that very same thing numerous times before.

* * *

Dean gunned his car down the road, glancing at Jayne out of the corner of his eye. She'd been silent since they pulled out of the parking lot, and he'd been just as quiet. He was almost afraid to say something.

Sometimes he really didn't understand her. A lot of times he thought he knew her better than he knew himself. But there were other times when he honestly just didn't get her.

This was one of those times.

What had happened back at the bar had been more than Dean saving her life. After all, he knew what they were hunting. He knew what else that thing wanted.

And he also knew that most women would be falling apart right now. He was expecting tears, or… or anything, really. Anything but this calm silence. Anything but Jayne just being…

Jayne.

So he really didn't know what to think. Was she perfectly fine? Or was she not fine at all, and excellent at hiding it?

Knowing Jayne, either option seemed sound.

They continued on down the road, headed for the motel Jayne had named when they'd pulled out of the Horse's Head parking lot.

Suddenly, Dean heard the siren.

He looked up into the rearview mirror, seeing red and blue lights behind him. Dean sighed, shaking his head.

"You got to be kidding me."

Jayne looked over her shoulder. "Great," she commented. "The fuzz. What the hell did you do now?"

"I didn't do anything!" Dean retorted, pulling over to the side of the road. He parked the Impala in the gravel shoulder and the cop pulled in behind him, shutting down the siren. The lights kept flashing through the dark night sky.

Dean sighed again, leaning back in the seat. Jayne folded her arms over her chest, staring out the passenger window.

A tall, lanky police officer with a dark moustache approached the driver's door. Dean rolled down the window as the man stopped outside. "There a problem, officer?"

"Damn right there's a problem," the cop returned. "You have any idea how fast you were going back there, son?"

Dean blinked. "Sixty?"

"Sixty-one. This is a fifty-five mile per hour zone."

Dean stared at the cop. "Seriously?" he asked. "I was going six over."

"License and registration," the cop smirked.

Dean cussed, shaking his head. He handed over his fake driver's license and the Impala's registration.

"Thank you," the cop said. "You just sit tight now."

He strolled back towards his cruiser. "Way to go, Dean," Jayne said from the passenger's seat.

"Shut it."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Dean tapping his fingers impatiently on his knees. Jayne leaned back in her seat and stared at the ceiling.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time the cop returned. "Son, I'm going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle," he announced.

Dean stared at him. "What?"

"You heard me, bucko. Now don't make me ask twice."

Dean glanced at Jayne. She frowned at him. "Can I ask why?" Dean returned in irritation.

"There's been several drug busts in this area over the past few weeks," the cop replied smoothly. "And this car matches the description of one of the suspect vehicles. I'm going to have to search your car, son."

"You can't do that!" Dean exclaimed.

"Oh, I think you'll find I can," the cop returned, looking all too happy about the situation. "Out of the car, if you please."

Dean glared at the cop for a moment, and then swung open the car door, stepping out into the street and slamming the door shut behind him. The cop leaned down into the driver's window. "You too, sweet pea," he said to Jayne.

Jayne got out of the vehicle too, slamming the door much like Dean had. She was glowering at the cop – undoubtedly because he'd called her sweet pea. The cop came around to her side of the car, opening the back door to begin his search.

Dean chewed the inside of his mouth in frustration, darting a glance in Jayne's direction. She was wrinkling her nose at the cop's hunched over back.

Sighing, Dean looked up at the cloudy night sky. Why him?

The cop closed the back door and then moved to the front of the car. Jayne took a step back as the cop opened the passenger side door.

"Anyone ever tell you you're far too good-looking for this joker?" the cop asked her, crawling half inside the Impala.

Jayne raised an eyebrow at the officer. "Yes," she replied shortly.

Dean glared at her.

The cop laughed. "Well, you're funny, ain't you?"

"So they say."

He continued to root around in Dean's front seat. "I like a funny gal," the cop said.

Jayne looked right at Dean and rolled her eyes.

Dean smirked.

The cop stood up, closing the passenger side door. "Well," he said, leaning against the car and addressing Jayne. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you in."

Jayne frowned at him. "Why?"

The cop leered at her, taking a step closer. Dean instantly tensed, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Oh, I think you know why," he hissed. "Pretty little hunter girl."

That's when the cop's eyes turned black.

Dean was already running towards the two of them, tearing around the Impala's front bumper. The demon lunged forward, reaching for Jayne. She stepped back and swung, clocking the cop in the jaw with one hell of a right hook.

The demon stumbled backwards, and Jayne moved forwards, still swinging. The demon reached up and caught her left fist mid-punch, and then hooked his leg around the back of her ankles. Jayne tripped and fell over into the grass. The demon made a move for her, but by now Dean had reached the scene and he charged the man, throwing him into the side of the Impala.

The demon roared, heaving himself off the car and grabbing Dean by his jacket. Seconds later, Dean was flying through the air, landing on the pavement behind his car.

It hurt, but Dean just counted himself lucky that he hadn't hit his head on the asphalt. Groaning, Dean forced himself to sit up.

"God, your boyfriend's a pain in the ass," he heard the demon exclaim from around the bumper.

Dean dragged himself off the road. On the other end of the car, the incubus was still coming for Jayne. She was on her knees now, clutching the hood of the Impala. As she tried to haul herself off the ground, the demon grabbed her hair and yanked, tossing her backwards into the grass.

Before the demon could do anything else, Dean threw himself into the possessed cop again, grunting with the painful impact. Both Dean and the demon hit the ground and began rolling around, struggling against one another. Dean got a hit off the cop's cheekbone. The demon rolled onto its back and planted its palms into Dean's chest, thrusting Dean up and off him.

Dean hit the grass several feet away. His entire body was sore from being thrown around. He sat up with effort.

Jayne was on her knees again, stumbling to her feet. The demon was still on the ground. He reached out and grabbed her ankle, knocking her back to the grass. Then the demon grabbed Jayne's legs and yanked her towards him.

She struggled, hissing unintelligible threats and insults at the demon as he pinned her down beneath him, running a hand up her thigh. Dean forced himself up on his feet and raced towards them.

_Crash!_

Jayne had somehow gotten a hold on the bottle of holy water in her purse, and she smashed it into the demon's skull. The bottle shattered, soaking the demon with the water. The cop shrieked and hissed, steam rolling off his shoulders and head.

Dean reached the pair, grabbing the demon by the front of his shirt and hefting him off Jayne, slamming him into the side of his car. "Get the keys!" he roared at Jayne. "Open the trunk; find my dad's journal!"

She was off the grass, running for the driver's side of the Impala. The demon struggled against Dean's grip, so Dean slammed him into the car once again, and then threw a punch into the side of his head.

Jayne ran for the trunk, keys jingling. She unlocked the trunk, throwing it open.

The demon's head snapped back and black smoke funneled out his mouth. The smoke billowed up into the night sky and vanished. The cop went limp in Dean's hands.

Dean let the cop's unconscious body slump to the ground. He looked over at Jayne, who was staring at him with wide eyes.

"What the fuck was that?!" Dean exploded.

Jayne shrugged, wrapping her arms around her chest.

Dean stomped over to her side, smashed the trunk closed, and hollered, "Seriously? That thing follows us out onto the highway, pulls us over, beats us up, and then just vanishes all over again?"

Jayne didn't say anything. "What the hell?" Dean exclaimed.

Sighing, Jayne leaned against the back bumper, folding her hands against her stomach. "It's an incubus," she said dully, staring at the front bumper of the police cruiser behind them. "It'll track us until it gets what it wants, and the last thing it's going to do is get exorcised before then."

Dean stared at her for a moment. "What?" he asked in a low, dangerous tone.

Jayne rolled her eyes.

"It's going to track us until it gets what it wants?" Dean repeated, sounding more dangerous by the second. "And you knew about this?"

Jayne shrugged. "That's what they do," she explained in a matter-of-fact tone. "An incubus chooses its victim, and then comes after her until… until he gets her. And in the meantime, it will be a mega pain in the ass."

Dean shook his head, squinting up his eyes. "Let me get this straight," he said sarcastically. "You peg this thing as an incubus. You get the dirt on the demon, figure out all its little quirks and powers, learn that it _stalks its victims_ until it gets what it wants… and despite knowing this thing will hunt you down if we don't _put _it down, you just go right ahead and offer yourself up as _bait_!?"

He was in her face, breathing heavily and incredibly pissed off. Jayne just blinked at him, and then shrugged again. "Yeah," she replied. "It was in Russ's notes. According to seventeenth century friar Ludovico Sinistrari…"

"I don't care what some dead friar guy said!" Dean interrupted her, annoyed. "Ok, _Sam_?"

She was immediately silenced.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Dean bellowed. "Are you stupid?"

Jayne just rolled her eyes again.

"Oh no!" Dean hollered at her. "Do not roll your eyes at me! I can't believe you went through with this!"

"Well, believe it," she returned shortly. "Now, can we go back to the motel? Or do you want to still be here when the cop wakes up?"

Dean stared at her for a moment. Unfortunately, she had a point. "Fine," he grit out from behind clenched teeth. "Get in the damn car."

He stomped around to the driver's side and yanked open the door, sliding in behind the wheel. A few seconds later, the passenger door opened, and Jayne got into the car, sitting down stiffly.

Dean looked at her. She stared straight at the dashboard, folding her arms over her chest. It was hard to tell, but Dean swore he saw her lip tremble.

He tried to ignore it. He turned back to the windshield, he started the car, he rested his hand on the gearshift…

Then he sighed harshly, finding himself unable to shift.

"Jayne," he said.

She didn't look at him "Yeah?" she asked, eyes still focused straight ahead.

He didn't reply right away. His fingers tightened and flexed on the gearshift as he chewed the inside of his mouth.

Jayne said nothing at all. She didn't even look at him. She sat patiently and silently, waiting for him to speak.

"Just so you know," Dean said finally. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Jayne turned. She stared at him.

"You're not going to let anything happen to me?" she repeated incredulously.

He looked her in the eye. She was pissed, but Dean ignored her scornful expression. "No," he said evenly. "I promise."

For a moment, Jayne said nothing. She just kept staring at him with that same incredulous glower.

"That's ridiculous," she finally snapped. "Don't say things like that to me."

Dean sighed again, shaking his head. "Jayne…"

"I mean it. Who the hell do you think you are?" She snorted, looking out the window. "You're not going to let anything happen to me? I swear it's like I'm trapped in a fucking Nicolas Sparks novel."

"You're welcome," Dean spat.

"Don't expect me to say thank you."

Finally, Dean found the ability to shift into drive. "You know the sad thing, Jayne?" he retorted with a bitter chuckle. "I never do."

* * *

The Impala pulled into the motel parking lot amid squealing tires and a roaring engine. Dean parked precariously in the lot, and shut the engine down. Then he threw open the door and jumped out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Jayne winced in the passenger's seat. Dean hadn't spoken a word the whole way there. She hadn't realized how much she'd upset him.

Slowly, she got out of the car, shutting the door gently behind her. Dean was at the trunk, hauling out his duffel bag. Seconds after she'd closed her door, Dean had already shut the trunk and was coming around to her side of the car. He grabbed her arm and pushed her on ahead of him. Jayne walked towards the motel doors with Dean matching her step for step, hurrying her along by the hand on her back.

Was it true, she wondered, that she never said thank you? It couldn't be. Jayne was positive that she'd thanked him several times for a whole lot of things. Maybe she didn't express her gratitude the way he expected her to… but that wasn't her fault. He clearly expected too much. And after all, they weren't total strangers or anything like that. He knew her. He should know how difficult it was for her to accept anyone's help, including his. How much it took to admit that she couldn't handle something on her own…

They were inside the motel now. Jayne led the way down the hall towards her and Lynn's room. Dean hustled her along, never removing his hand from her back. Part of her wanted to shove him away. Part of her wanted to smack him in the chest.

Part of her recognized that snapping at him right now would be a mistake. Part of her understood that at that moment, she and Dean were crossing dangerous territory… and it had nothing to do with a lurking incubus.

They reached the door. Jayne unlocked it, swinging the door wide open. Dean practically shoved her inside, and then hurried in after her, closing the door immediately behind him.

Jayne crossed to the small table in the so-called kitchenette – a kitchenette that was little more than a sink, a mini-fridge, a microwave, and two cabinets. She put her purse down on the table and looked over her shoulder at Dean.

He stomped up beside her and dropped his duffel bag on the table with a loud bang, unzipping it furiously. Jayne watched with a raised brow as he pulled out a huge canister of salt and then marched back to the door, tripling in width the salt line she and Lynn had already put down.

He continued widening the salt barricade all around the room as Jayne frowned after him. "Um… Dean?" she finally ventured to speak. "What exactly are you doing?"

"What's it look like?" he snapped. "I'm trying to keep your little boyfriend out!"

Jayne was effectively hushed. She looked down at the tabletop, suddenly paying close attention to the way her fingers were splayed out across the Formica. She hoped he didn't notice her shaky intake of breath.

It was just a demon. One measly little demon. She could handle a demon.

She was not scared. She had no reason to be.

Dean had finished with the salt now. He plopped the canister down on the countertop in the kitchen area and then crossed to the sink. Jayne frowned at him once again as she watched him plug the drain and turn the faucet on full blast.

He left the water running while he tore apart his duffel a second time. Jayne shook her head, still frowning. "_Now_ what are you doing?" she asked.

Dean withdrew a strand of red rosary beads from the depths of his duffel and gave her a smirk. "Holy water," he replied, sounding all too proud of himself. "Whole sink full of it. Let that fucker come in here _now_."

Jayne raised her eyebrow again. Dean turned his back on her and said the blessing over the beads, dropping the rosary into the sink.

With the faucet turned off, the room became deathly silent. Dean leaned against the cabinets, turning to look at her.

"You got cable?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Cool."

They were silent a long time. "We should call Lynn," Jayne murmured. "Or Sam…"

"I'll call," Dean returned. "Don't worry about it."

She nodded again. They lapsed into another long silence.

"I'm going to take a shower," Jayne finally said, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

He stared at her – more like studied her, really. She shifted uncomfortably under his hard eye.

"Ok," he said.

Jayne turned away and marched into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

Sam winced as Lynn wheeled over into the next lane with a sharp tug of the steering wheel. He had to grab door beside him to keep from flying across the bench seat and slamming into her side.

"Um… you could probably slow down…" he offered hesitantly from the passenger seat. He regretted it the moment the words left his lips.

"You could probably shut up!" she snapped, wheeling back into their original lane. Sam banged into the door.

"Ow."

"Don't be such a baby," she told him curtly. "You're far too young to be afraid to drive fast."

She slammed on the brakes, nearly hitting the car in front of them, and then wheeled on over into the next lane.

Sam closed his eyes. This seemed the best solution. However, lack of sight could not distract him from the way his legs were bent up uncomfortably against the dashboard, jammed between the glove compartment and the bench seat. He'd always known Lynn was a good sight shorter than he, but when seated on the same bench seat as her, the height difference became painfully obvious – _really_ painful.

However, this was definitely the first time he'd noticed what a terrible driver she was.

Sam wasn't sure the ringing of his cell phone was a curse or a blessing. He dug the chirping phone out of his jacket pocket, opening his eyes with reluctance.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Dean."

His brother. Good. That was a good sign.

"Where are you?" Sam exclaimed, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. For the first time in his life, he wished Dean was the one driving him around.

"Back at the motel. You still with Lynn?"

"Yeah… where's Jayne?"

"Here, with me. She's fine. I mean, I think she's fine."

"What do you mean, you think she's fine?"

Dean sighed loudly into the phone, producing a harsh static sound that caused Sam to cringe. "I mean the day I figure this woman out is the day elephants really do fly with their ears, Sam."

Sam smiled slightly at this. "What happened?"

"That bartender? Turns out he was the incubus. Big fucking surprise."

"That makes sense," Sam mused. "The guy we trailed into the parking lot was just some kid taking his drunk girlfriend home."

"Bet he was happy to see you."

"Try not. Did you get it?"

"Nah. Thing bailed on me when I hit it with the holy water. But listen to this shit; I'm driving back to the motel, right? And I get pulled over by one of Marietta's finest!"

"You got a speeding ticket?"

"Not exactly. Guy gives me shit for speeding, takes my license – well, my fake license – and the next thing I know, he's claiming that my Impala was indicated in some kind of drug bust! He makes us get out of the car so he can search it!"

"Did he find our weapons?"

"No. Turns out it wasn't really a cop – it was that damn demon again!"

Sam's stomach sank. "You mean, it followed you out onto the highway?"

"Yeah, it followed us onto the highway! Thing goes after Jayne again, we barely manage to hit it with more holy water, and then it just bails all over again!"

"Weird."

"So then Goldilocks decides to tell me that an incubus isn't really the giving up kind. It's the sort of demon that chooses its victim, and then doesn't stop stalking them until it gets what it wants!"

"Uh-oh."

"Exactly! And now, the damn thing wants Jayne! You tell your girlfriend she's a fucking idiot!"

"I am so not saying that."

"Chicken. Look, you two better get here fast. We got to figure something out. I mean, I doubled up on the salt, I've got a sink full of holy water back here, and I'm marking all the exorcisms I can find, but… but I don't know if it's going to do any good! I'm reading the stuff Russ Juarez collected on the thing, and I even found some stuff about it in Dad's journal… seriously? It's like the guy in the Scream mask, Sam! It just won't die!"

"Ok, calm down," Sam ordered, frowning at his brother's overreaction. "We're almost there. We'll do some research or something… are you all right?"

"I'm fine!"

"Really? Cause you sound kind of… panicky."

"I'm not panicky!"

"Right."

"Just get here!"

Dean hung up the phone. Sam took a deep breath, hanging up as well, and then glanced hesitantly at Lynn.

"Whatever it is, you better just up and tell me," she bit out. "Don't sit there staring at me like I'm going to eat you."

Sam didn't point out that any fear of her eating him seemed legitimate at the moment. He just took another deep breath and said, "The incubus went after your sister."

Tires squealed. Another car honked. Sam closed his eyes and waited for death.

"What?!" Lynn bellowed.

"It's all right!" Sam exclaimed. "Dean saved her! Look, they're back at the motel, and Dean's all freaked out because he thinks we can't kill this thing…"

Lynn snorted. "Great! Just great! My sister's being stalked by the playboy of the demon world, and your brother's having a well-timed panic attack! That's fantastic!"

"Lynn…"

"Shut up, Sam!"

There was a long silence. Finally, hesitantly, Sam ventured to speak.

"It's not your fault, Lynn."

He didn't miss the way her fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the way her shoulders tensed and her lips twitched.

"Like hell it isn't."

They lapsed into another silence, and this time no one tried to break it. Sam leaned against the window, no longer flinching at all the close calls between Janis and the other cars. He just gazed out into the dark, chewing on his knuckles, wishing he could say something, anything to make her feel better… and knowing there were no such words.

* * *

It sounded like Dean was ripping apart her motel room.

Jayne sighed, trying to ignore the sound of Dean cussing and growling in the next room, trying not to jump at the unexpected bangs and clangs. She smoothed her damp hair, wrapped one of her old flannels around the baggy tee shirt she was wearing.

When she opened the bathroom door, she found Dean pacing the room, flipping through his dad's journal.

She stopped just over the threshold, frowning. Dean looked up.

"Are you aware that this thing is invincible?!" he exploded.

Jayne rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorjamb. "It is not invincible."

"Really? Then why does every single incubus authority I find claim that the damn thing can't be killed?"

"Because it can't be?" Jayne offered up, raising her eyebrow. "Cause, you know, it's a demon? So you have to exorcise it?'

"Would you shut up?" Dean snapped. He shook his head at the journal in his hands and tossed it at one of the queen sized beds. Then he looked at her.

Jayne squirmed uncomfortably as his eyes traveled the length of her body, starting at her faded jeans and traveling up her legs, her flannel covered torso, and finally resting on her face.

"Don't you own a pair of sweats?" he demanded.

Although Jayne wasn't sure exactly what she'd expected him to say, she knew that certainly hadn't been it. "What?"

He rolled his eyes. "You sleep in your jeans?"

She frowned at him. "No."

He gestured emphatically at her outfit.

Jayne watched him for a few moments before saying, "I don't understand what that means."

"Aren't you going to bed?"

There was a long silence. Jayne stared at him. Finally, she shrugged. "Wasn't planning on it, no."

He stared at her.

"What?"

Dean shrugged. "I… don't know."

Jayne sighed, pushing herself off the door and heading for the table. "Aren't you tired?" he asked.

She stopped halfway through her journey and stared at him again. "Dude, what is your deal?" she demanded.

Dean sighed, sounding harassed. "I'm just trying to make sure you're ok, all right? I mean, after what happened tonight…"

"I don't want to talk about what happened tonight," she interrupted him viciously. "Nothing happened. A demon attacked me. You stopped it. Now we're looking for ways to kill it. Ok? I'm not going to curl up in a little ball in my bed and sleep my problems away!"

Dean chewed on the inside of his cheek, staring at the carpet.

"Besides," she went on. "Sam and Lynn aren't even back yet, and who knows what's going to happen tonight, what sort of research Lynn will want to do…"

"Yeah, well I do know that whatever the geek twins have cooked up they can do on their own," Dean cut her off.

Jayne blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You aren't planning on actually going out there, are you?"

"Well… I mean, I'm not about to hang out in this motel room for the rest of my life… so, yeah, I guess I was…"

"Oh, no," Dean chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. "No, you aren't going anywhere."

Jayne took a step closer to him, eyebrow raised. She stared him down. "I'm not?"

"Nope."

"And how are you going to stop me?"

Dean laughed that bitter, ironic laugh once again. "I will knock you out and tie you to the bed," he smirked.

"Try it. See how well that works out for you."

"You think I'm kidding?" Dean snapped, stepping into her personal space. "Until we find this bad son of a bitch and send it back to hell, I'm not letting you out of my sight!"

Jayne glowered at him. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm the guy who's going to protect your stubborn ass whether you like it or not!"

"Well, for the record? I don't like it!"

"Too damn bad!" Dean thundered. "I made you a promise! And maybe that promise pissed you off, but I still made it, and I'm going to follow through!"

Jayne blinked at him, momentarily silenced.

"You're not leaving this room," he pushed on. "In fact, I'm not even leaving this room, because I'm not leaving you by yourself. You can hate me all you want, you can yell at me, you can even throw some punches my way, but my mind's made up. Nothing's going to happen to you, Goldilocks – not if I have anything to say about it."

She still had no retort. She stared at him, silenced and trying desperately to think of a reply. Nothing came to her.

Then the door flew open, and Lynn charged in, toting Sam along behind her. "Jaynie!" she exclaimed, rushing to her stepsister's side.

Jayne winced as her stepsister engulfed her in a hug that smelled like strong perfume. "Oh my god, I am so sorry!" Lynn cried into Jayne's hair. "I should have never left you alone in that bar!"

"Well, uh… you didn't leave me alone," Jayne returned, patting Lynn awkwardly on the back. "You left me with Dean. And everything turned out just fine, so… can you let go of me?"

Lynn did let go of her, but Jayne suspected it had nothing to do with her request. "Everything turned out just fine?" her stepsister repeated incredulously, in a shriek so high-pitched Jayne was sure only she and the dogs could hear it.

"Nothing turned out just fine!" Lynn carried on, tone and expression both furious. "The incubus attacked you, and then it got away, and now it is _stalking_ you! How did anything turn out just fine?"

Jayne shrugged. "Well… I'm not dead."

Lynn stared at her for a moment. "I can't believe you just said that to me."

"All right, all right," Dean intervened. "We get it. Goldilocks is in trouble, and she's pissing everyone off. Now can we talk about more important things? Like how to stop the incubus?"

"Good idea," Sam spoke up, sounding desperate for peace. "You find anything in those journals?"

"No," Dean snapped. "Except that this thing is invincible!"

Jayne rolled her eyes again. "For the last time, Dean, it's not invincible!"

"Then why can't I find a way to get rid of it?!"

"I told you, we need to exorcise it!"

"How are we going to exorcise it if it keeps jumping its vessel?!"

"We should find a summoning ritual," Lynn announced.

Everyone stared at her. Dean was the first to speak.

"Now you want to bring the damn thing _here_?!"

"Wait, Dean," Sam put in. "Maybe that's a good idea."

"_How _is that a good idea?!"

"We should summon it here," Lynn said. "Then we trap it inside a salt circle or something so it can't jump vessels."

Jayne raised an eyebrow, impressed by her stepsister's creativity. "That sounds like a halfway decent plan," she murmured.

"_How?!"_ Dean exploded.

"We'll sneak Jayne out of here first," Lynn went on, clearly to pacify the older Winchester. "Get her some place safe. Dean, you can even go with her if you want. Make sure nothing happens to her."

Jayne glowered at her stepsister. "I don't need a babysitter."

Lynn sighed in annoyance. "Please don't be difficult right now."

"I mean it! I'm not some stupid civilian in need of a rescue!"

"I don't care!" Lynn roared. "I don't care, do you understand me, Jaynie? I don't care! I don't care if you're the oldest, I don't care if you're a good hunter, I don't care if you're super pissed at me right now… I don't care!"

Jayne blinked at her stepsister, taken aback.

Lynn took a deep, steadying breath. "You will stay with Dean," she said. "He'll take you somewhere safe. Sam and I will perform the exorcism."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," Dean piped up, smirking.

Ooh, did she want to smack him…

"Tomorrow, I will call Deedee and ask for help," Lynn went on. "If anyone knows any demon summoning rituals, she'd be the one. We'll get her on the case, and then Sam and I will head to the library and start looking for rituals on our own. Jayne, you are staying in this motel room. Dean…"

"I'm not letting her out of my sight," Dean interrupted.

Jayne glared at him.

Lynn smiled. "It's like you read my mind."

Jayne had never been so furious in her entire life. She was being treated like a child, like a civilian, like a _girl_! She could handle one demon. If she wasn't scared, then no one else had the right to be either. The last thing she was going to do was _hide_ in this motel room like a….

"I think we should all get some sleep," Lynn was saying.

"That sounds like a good idea," Sam agreed, speaking for the first time in several minutes.

"Are you boys crashing here?" Lynn asked.

Dean nodded stonily.

Sam glanced at Dean, saw his determination, and then forced a smile, nodding as well.

Jayne groaned inwardly. Damn it, Sam, you could have put up a little more of a fight…

Lynn looked her stepsister directly in the eye. "I know you're mad as hell at me right now," she said gently. "But…"

"You don't care?" Jayne snapped.

There was a split second of hurt on her stepsister's face, but it soon vanished. Lynn's lips set themselves in a grim line.

"That's about right," she replied.

Jayne snorted. "Great," she said. "Perfect."

She headed for her bed – the bed she supposed she'd be sharing with Lynn that night. "I'm not made of glass, you know," she shot over her shoulder.

Lynn stared evenly back at her.

"I know."

* * *

Lynn leaned back in her hard wooden chair, rocking back and forth as she perused the giant heavy volume tilted against the table edge. Across the cheap Formica table sat Sam, chewing on a pen, as he studied the text laid out across the tabletop in front of him.

"Your sister's pissed," Sam commented, breaking the stillness of the public library.

Lynn looked up momentarily from the book. "Yeah."

She returned to the text. A few moments of silence passed.

"So, uh… are we ever going to talk about it?"

Lynn looked up from her book again and raised her eyebrow at Sam. "Talk about what?" she asked.

Sam gave her an impatient look. "We kissed, Lynn."

Lynn snorted, dropping her eyes again. "Yeah, like a million years ago."

"It was two weeks ago."

"Well, I don't really know what to say."

"Can we just talk about this for a second?"

"Why?"

"Why? Because ever since then you've been treating me like I'm an asshole or something."

"Look, Sam, there's really no point in talking about this."

"What do you mean, there's no point?"

"I mean there's no point in talking about it when I already know what you're going to say."

Sam laughed slightly, but Lynn didn't hear any mirth. "You already know what I'm going to say."

"Yep."

"Well, lay it on me then. What am I going to say?"

"You're going to tell me how pretty I am," she shot at him. "You're going to tell me how much you like me, and what a great friend I've been. And then you're going to tell me you're not over Jessica. That you're not ready for any of this. That you weren't even ready for that kiss. And then you're going to tell me how oh-so-sorry you are."

Sam stared at her.

"You don't have to say any of those things, Sam," Lynn told him. "You don't have to say _anything_. It was just a kiss."

Then she looked down at her book once again.

"You want to go get a drink or something?"

Lynn looked back up at Sam, staring at him.

"Later," he added quickly. "Obviously later."

"My stepsister's being hunted by an incubus and you're asking me to go get a drink?" she asked incredulously.

Sam wrinkled his nose at her and gave her one of his sheepish smiles.

"Bad time, Sam," Lynn informed him. Then she returned to her book.

* * *

Jayne sat on her bed, leaning against the headboard, flipping through Russ's journals.

Dean sat at the table in the kitchen area, frowning at Sam's laptop.

Neither spoke to the other one.

After a time, Jayne decided she was thirsty and got up off the mattress. She headed for the mini-fridge and pulled out a Coke. Then she slammed the door so hard that the whole fridge shook.

Dean glared at her sideways.

"Smoke on the Water" sounded out from his corner of the room.

Jayne flopped down on the bed again. Dean sighed loudly and snatched his phone off the table.

"What?"

Jayne watched Dean talk on his cell from the corner of her eye.

He frowned. "Sam? Dude, I can't hear you."

There was another pause. "Slow down, Sammy. What?"

Another pause. "I can't hear you, man. Hey – hey… I'm losing you. Sam? Sam!"

Dean cussed, and hung up the phone, getting to his feet.

"What's going on?" Jayne asked, watching as he crossed the room and grabbed his jacket.

"Sam tried to tell me something, but…" Dean sighed and shook his head. "You know, there is no damn cell phone reception in here?"

Jayne stared at him. Dean headed for the door. With his hand on the knob, he froze, looking over his shoulder at her.

"You going to be all right?" he asked.

She glared at him. "Well, let's think about that," she retorted. "I'm not five, so… yeah. I'll be fine in here alone for like ten minutes."

Dean rolled his eyes, swung the door open and stomped out into the hall, slamming the door shut behind him.

Jayne sat alone in the suddenly too still, too empty motel room for several minutes. She stared at the opposite wall, sipped her soda.

There was a knock on the door.

She froze. For a minute, she just stared at the door, not moving from the bed.

The knock came again. Jayne moved. She fished her holy water out of the bedside table and approached the door cautiously.

Her fingertips rested on the cool wood surface of the door. She leaned against it, squinting through the peephole.

On the other side of the door was the tall, broad-shouldered, blue-eyed figure of Davy the bartender.

Struggling in his chokehold was slender, long-legged, golden-haired Diana Grissini.

Instantly, Jayne threw open the door, holy water poised threateningly in her hand. The large man grinned wickedly from the other side of the threshold, his blue eyes turning black.

"Mm-mm," he smirked. "Don't get me wrong, baby, that little red dress you had on last time we met was sexy as hell, but _damn_. You are working that flannel."

Jayne ignored the demon. Her eyes were fastened on Diana. She was wriggling in the demon's grasp, gasping for breath. She turned huge wet eyes on Jayne.

"You've met Diana?" the incubus asked.

Jayne dragged her eyes from the young woman and looked the demon right in the face.

"Let her go."

Davy the demon smirked again. "Let me in."

Jayne's grip on the holy water tightened. She looked at Diana again and then back at the demon. "Listen, Jaynie," the demon leered, as Jayne's eyes continued leaping from Diana back to him, her indecision obvious. "Diana, here… she's ancient history. It's all about you now, sexy hunter girl."

He winked, stepping closer and dragging the other woman with him. "But see… with you playing all hard to get… well, way I see it, you've got two choices here. Option one; you let me in to play. Option two; I'm going to go play with Diana instead."

The other young girl was still wriggling in the demon's arms. Jayne stared at her. It all came together… the phone call, Dean leaving the room, the demon showing up seconds later… he had planned it. He had planned it all. And now she was left to choose between saving her own skin and saving Diana.

It wasn't fair, really. After all, both she and the demon knew exactly which option she was going to choose.

"All right," Jayne said hoarsely, still staring at Diana. "You let her go, I'll let you in."

The demon sneered. "That's what I thought you'd say."

Jayne stared at Diana a little longer. Then she stepped down hard on the salt around the door and scraped the sole of her boot right through it.

The incubus let Diana go. She collapsed to the ground with a short shriek, and looked up at Jayne disbelievingly.

Jayne looked right back at the girl, having time to deliver one short order before the demon crossed the threshold.

"Run."


	36. Best Shot

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Big thank yous to Dean Rocks My World, M*YP, kazza03, ksirrah, Three Moons, impalame, angeleyenc, legrowl, Nelle07, SingingInTheRain1989, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, Lov3good, deansbabygirl934, Padme4000, tiaracove, VanillaCokeZero, Me! and KayLay for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 36: Best Shot

Dean was running, but he wasn't sure why.

He knew that Sam hadn't called him. He knew that he'd been tricked into leaving the motel room.

He had no idea if running was necessary, but he knew he was running, and he wasn't about to slow down.

Dean tore around the corner and ran smack into a hard body on the other side. There was a loud squeak, and the second body fell down.

He froze, gasping for breath. Sprawled out on the ground was a young woman –a decidedly gorgeous young woman. She had blonde hair and a golden tan and long, long legs.

She blinked up at him. He caught a tear running down her cheek.

Dean looked down the hall, towards the motel room. "Are you all right?" he asked the girl, not really caring and wanting desperately to keep moving.

"You have to help me!" she exclaimed, struggling onto her feet. "There… there was this man… well, he wasn't really a man… I mean he looked like a man… oh, god, you're going to think I'm nuts."

Dean frowned at her. "Whoa," he murmured, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Slow down there. What happened?"

"Look, there is some kind of freaky alien or monster type thing back there!" she yelled at him. "And this woman… she was trying to help me, and… and now… I don't know, she was like some sort of vigilante slash men in back type person… look, this thing has her!"

Dean frowned at her again, leaning closer. Something Lynn had told him about the case clicked in his head. "Are you Diana Grissini?" he asked.

Her eyes went wide for a brief second, and then she nodded.

"Fuck," Dean whispered. "Jaynie."

His eyes wandered up the hall and then back down. He looked Diana Grissini in the eye.

"Listen up," he ordered. "Go to the vending area and hide behind the ice machine or something."

"But…"

"Just do it!" Dean snapped. "I'll take care of everything else!"

The girl looked like she wanted to argue. In fact, she looked like the sort of girl who would have argued, given different circumstances. Dean decided she must have been through a hell of a lot, and she must be absolutely terrified, because she didn't argue. She nodded, and ran towards the vending machines.

He was amazed at how well she'd listened to him, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Now with new motivation, he continued his race back to the room.

* * *

The incubus flew over the threshold. Jayne swung the bottle of holy water towards his head, but the demon deflected it, sending her only weapon flying across the room and shattering against the wall.

The door slammed shut behind him as the demon charged her, grabbing her by the throat and marching her back towards the kitchen. Jayne let herself be shoved in that direction, reaching behind her and grabbing a chair as they hit the table.

She swung the chair into the demon's torso. He let go of her, stumbling sideways.

Jayne shoved him away, pushing herself off the table and rushing towards the sink. The demon followed, catching her arm as she reached the cabinet. Jayne reached for the soap dish, scooping up the holy water in the sink and throwing it into the demon's eyes.

He hissed and roared, letting go and fumbling backwards as he cradled his face. Jayne snatched Dean's forgotten salt canister off the countertop and ran for the door.

In a hurried panic, she sprinkled the leftover salt back over the hole she'd made in the barrier. She had barely finished trapping the incubus inside the room when he was on her again, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her back from the door.

Salt spilled everywhere, but the damage was done. The incubus was sealed inside the motel room. Jayne flung the salt canister towards the demon's face, but the incubus grabbed her wrist, slamming it down against the hard motel carpet. She cried out as sharp pain exploded in her wrist.

She struggled as the incubus grabbed her wrists and sat on her stomach. Her wrist throbbed with pain as he squeezed it.

"You hunter bitch," he snarled. His eyes were red and swollen with the holy water, and Jayne couldn't help the smirk that appeared on her face when she realized he couldn't use his thrall.

This was going to be the closest thing to a fair fight she could hope for.

Jayne drew up her knee, jamming it into his chest. The demon winced, loosening its grip on her arms. She broke her uninjured wrist free from his hand, but he kept his hold on the other.

Wincing with pain, Jayne tried to yank her other arm away too, but the demon tightened his grip. She cried out again as the demon hauled her back towards him.

"Had to splash me with the water, didn't you?" he growled, half to himself. "Didn't have to be this way…"

Jayne tuned his grumblings out as she continued struggling underneath him. Struck by sudden inspiration, she sat up straight, smashing her forehead into his.

The demon howled, letting go long enough for Jayne to scramble out from beneath him and crawl towards the notebook lying on the bed… a notebook where she knew there was an exorcism rite. She crawled along, ignoring the splitting impact pain in her skull.

The demon seized her by the ankle and yanked her back towards him. Jayne struggled, but again found herself pinned underneath the incubus. "You fucking bitch!" he was shouting. "You're all the same, you Gibsons, always slamming your face into other people's faces, throwing holy water everywhere…"

He trailed off at the horrified look on Jayne's face. She had stopped struggling temporarily, frozen by shock. "That's right," he sneered. "I told you, I've met your kind before. Hunters, Gibsons… you name it. You're the spitting image of your mother. She was so sweet. Not much older than you at the time… I was worried for a moment when I met you. But it couldn't have been more than twenty-two, twenty-three years ago…"

She didn't hear anything else. The sound shut off. The room went white. It was sudden. The incubus flew backwards into the table. Now she was on top, her fist slamming over and over into his face. Where the incubus ended and Davy began no longer seemed to register… there was no longer a difference between the two. The blood came bubbling around the nose and the mouth, soaking her knuckles… but she felt no blood, saw no blood...

She soared across the room, hitting the floor by the beds. Then, out of nowhere, the demon's hands were around her throat, cutting off her air supply. She choked, struggling under his crushing grip, his heavy weight… suddenly, she was up, and then down, her back hitting one of the mattresses.

His hands gripped the front of her shirt. She heard rips and pops as her shirt tore open, buttons flying. His fingers found her throat again. A strangled scream burbled out her mouth against the pressure on her windpipe as one hand migrated down from the chokehold over her freshly exposed flesh….

_Bang!_ Something slammed. It was distant, far away. So distant that Davy the demon didn't look up.

Then he was off her, lifted up by two brown leather arms, thrown backwards into the table. She lay still a moment, her hands traveling lightly up the skin of her stomach as though checking to make sure it was still there. Slowly, she sat up, rubbing her throat.

Dean and the demon struggled across the room, Dean forcing the demon back step by step towards the sink. Finally, he tripped the man and the demon stumbled back into the counter.

Dean forced his head under the holy water. A great hissing cloud of steam erupted from the kitchen sink.

Jayne was suddenly in action. She hit the floor, crawling towards the abandoned notebook. Her fingers turned the pages to the desired passage, her eyes traveled along the handwritten lines…

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…_"

She read aloud, yelling to be heard over the hissing of holy water and the shrieks of the demon. Dean was bellowing profanities and the room was full of wind, papers scattering across the floor, the curtains and bedclothes flapping…

The demon threw Dean off, stumbling to the ground in steaming heap. Jayne continued the exorcism, and the man writhed and groaned in agony.

"_Benedictus Deus!"_ she finished the rite. "_Gloria Patri!_"

The demon shrieked its last. The black smoke hit the ceiling in a flash of fire, and then vanished. The demon was gone.

The room, once full of wind, was now filled with silence. The papers fluttered back down to earth, the curtains settled. Davy, now demon free, lay unconscious and altogether too still on the motel room floor.

Dean hauled himself off the ground, nursing his neck. He approached the bartender cautiously.

Jayne looked away. She let the notebook fall from her hands. Still gasping for breath, she reached shaking fingers up to fasten her open shirt.

The buttons were gone. Jayne closed her eyes, swallowing, and let out a long, steadying breath. Then, wrapping the shirt around her, she grabbed hold of the nightstand and tried to haul herself up off the floor.

Her wrist gave out. An involuntary cry of pain escaped her lips as she tumbled back to the ground.

"Jaynie!" Dean called. She heard him run across the room. He knelt down beside her, grabbing her shoulder. "You all right?"

She nodded, not looking at him. "Jaynie," he insisted, catching her chin.

"I said I'm fine," she whispered, jerking her chin away.

He caught her chin again and held it, looking straight into her eyes. Jayne stared bravely back, holding her ground. The look Dean gave her was awful. His eyes were hard, intense… so green. His chin was locked up tight in that grim, serious way of his.

He sat there, immovable, holding her face. His other hand tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Jayne fidgeted uncomfortably, but unable to look away.

For a moment, for some stupid, incomprehensible reason, Jayne thought he was going to kiss her.

But he didn't. Instead he snatched her to him violently, wrapping her up in the most bone-crushing bear hug she'd ever received.

Instantly, she tensed up. She hated hugs. The feel of arms wrapped around her body was imprisoning. It felt like tight ropes, like cage bars, like a straightjacket.

But Dean's hug did not feel suffocating – although it was. The feel of his arms around her was more akin to being wrapped in a warm blanket than confined in mummy bandages.

So slowly, Jayne un-tensed. And then suddenly, her face was buried in the crook of his neck, and she was inhaling his scent – soap and leather and something else, something that she couldn't quite place, but she knew she liked it.

It was one of those moments that last too long, and everyone knows its time to get up, time to move, but no one does.

"Let me see your wrist," he demanded.

"My wrist is fine."

Her protest was unconvincing even to her own ears, rasped out from her bruised and aching throat. He took her arm anyway, feeling her wrist gently. She winced slightly, not moving from his one-armed hug.

"Well, that's going to be purple tomorrow."

Jayne lifted her face from his neck and looked him in the eye. He winked at her. She half smiled for him.

"It's not broken," he said. "Here, let me help you up."

He took her by her uninjured arm and helped her stumble to her feet. Jayne's legs trembled beneath her and she instinctively grabbed his jacket to regain her balance. Dean tightened his grip on her and then plopped her onto the bed.

Jayne wouldn't look at him. She couldn't. It was too embarrassing.

Dean reached out and took her shoulder.

She had to look at him then. She inhaled deeply, cursing the shakiness of the breath. His hand moved to cup her face and his thumb brushed against her cheekbone.

Jayne stared at him, frozen.

Dean took his hand away from her face and swallowed, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Um…" he said, gesturing at her shirt.

She shrugged, looking away. "Uh… the buttons…"

"I'll get you a new one," he volunteered a little too quickly.

She watched him run for her duffel bag. He ripped the bag apart, searching for a new shirt with frantic eagerness. Jayne felt the paradigm shift. Moments before, she had felt that vague, disconnected helplessness she didn't usually feel… moments before, her face had been in that broad shoulder. Now, the helplessness was on his end. He had no idea what to do.

He handed her the shirt, staring awkwardly at her. Jayne took the shirt from his hands, half smiling at him.

Dean was darting glances around the room, running his hand through his hair. He seemed like he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Dean," she said.

He looked at her with the eyes of an anxious puppy.

Jayne forced another smile for him. "I'm sorry I was a crazy bitch."

He laughed slightly.

"No, I mean it," Jayne pressed. "Look, I know I'm not easy to be around. I know I don't make it easy to… it's just that I have to…"

"I know," he interrupted her.

She blinked. "You know?"

"Yeah," he smirked. "I know."

Jayne stared at him.

"Not saying you don't annoy the piss out of me," he went on, still smirking. "But, uh… yeah. I know."

She stared at him a moment longer. He stared back. Then suddenly, the door opened.

"Oh my god!" she heard Lynn exclaim from the entrance. "What the hell happened in here?"

Jayne instinctively glanced down at the floor. Dean cleared his throat, addressing Lynn.

"Demon's gone," he announced. "Case closed."

Jayne didn't want to look over her shoulder at Lynn and Sam.

"The thing came here?!" Lynn was practically shrieking. "_It got in_?"

"Yeah," Dean said shortly.

"How?" Sam wanted to know.

Dean looked at her. Jayne met his eyes briefly, before lowering her gaze back to the floor.

"Goldilocks let it in," Dean replied.

Jayne winced.

"_What?!_" Lynn exploded.

"It was one of those life for a life exchange deals," Dean explained. "That Diana Grissini chick? The one from the psych ward?"

"What about her?"

"She's hiding behind the ice machine," Dean said. "Seeing as she knows you the best, maybe you better go get her."

"Um… uh… ok… Jaynie?"

Jayne swallowed and looked over her shoulder at her stepsister. "Yeah?"

Lynn was watching her with big scared brown eyes. "Are you ok?"

Jayne forced a smile for her. "Yeah," she said. "Of course."

Lynn stared at her until Jayne got uncomfortable and said, "You better get Diana. Poor girl's probably scared shitless about now."

Lynn stared a second longer and then nodded. "Right. Ok." She took a deep breath and sighed heavily. "Jesus. That girl hates me."

Jayne laughed quietly. "Yeah. Little bit."

Lynn rolled her eyes and vanished into the hall.

Sam stood inside the door, hands shoved in his pockets, looking around awkwardly. His eyes fell on Davy and he frowned.

"Um… is he all right?"

"Sure," Dean scoffed. "He's a big boy. He'll be fine."

Jayne raised her eyebrow at Dean. Sam half frowned, half grinned at his brother. "Right."

"Go help your girlfriend," Dean said.

"Help her with what?"

"Just go!"

Sam rolled his eyes, stepping out into the hall. He ducked his head back in the room for a moment. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Get out of here!"

Sam disappeared down the hall.

Jayne sat on the bed for a moment, while Dean stood awkwardly in the center of the motel room, scratching the back of his neck.

Finally, Jayne stood up, hugging her shirt over her chest. "I'm going to, uh…"

She gestured at the bathroom. Dean nodded.

Jayne practically ran into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Seconds passed, finding her still leaning against the bathroom door, gulping in air, clutching the new shirt.

Then she shook her head, shrugged out of the torn flannel, and pulled on the new. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror over the sink and her eyes traveled immediately to the bright red blood on her hands.

It took a while to wash the blood away, and by the time she did, Dean was gone.

Dean was gone, Davy was gone, and Sam was nowhere in sight. Lynn was cleaning the motel room. Diana was not with her.

Lynn looked up from the broken glass she was sweeping at in the corner. "Hey," she said softly.

Jayne leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn't look at her stepsister. "Where is everyone?"

"Dean and Sam took Davy to the hospital. Then they're taking Diana home."

Jayne nodded.

"You all right?" Lynn asked.

Again, Jayne nodded.

"You sure? We could…"

"What?" Jayne interrupted sharply. "Talk?"

Lynn looked at the carpet.

Jayne regretted the sharpness. "I'm fine, Lynn. Let me help you clean…"

"Dean said you hurt your wrist," Lynn said.

Jayne stared.

"And… and you don't look good, Jaynie. You really don't."

There was a long silence.

"Am I bleeding?" Jayne asked.

Lynn frowned. "Well… no…"

"Then I'm fine."

Her stepsister kept still, staring. Jayne stared back.

Lynn sighed. "Yeah. You always are."

She bent back over the broken glass. Jayne headed to the sink full of holy water and pulled the plug.

* * *

Lynn was still cleaning, even though there was nothing left to clean. The glass was gone, the salt was gone, the beds and bags and papers were tidied, the bloodstains as faded as she could get them…

She'd moved on to cleaning things that weren't even touched during the incubus attack, like the bathroom and the refrigerator. She could feel Jayne's eyes on her as she scraped ice off the sides of the mini-fridge.

"They have maids for that," Jayne announced.

"Yeah," Lynn retorted. "Maids that we never let in the room."

She returned to the ice scraping. The mattress springs creaked behind her, and she heard the rustling of notebook pages.

Sighing, Lynn sat down the ice scraper and shut the fridge. She turned around and looked at her stepsister.

Jayne was sitting on one of the beds, leafing through one of their father's notebooks.

"What are you looking for?" Lynn asked.

Jayne shrugged. "Nothing, really."

Lynn heard the lie, but didn't demand the truth. She stared at her stepsister for a while and then asked, "Are you sure you don't want to talk about…"

"What's to talk about?" Jayne interrupted. "Nothing happened."

Her stepsister's mantra. Lynn stepped towards the table, resting her fingertips on the cool surface. "If you say so."

There was silence. Then Jayne spoke.

"Sam and Dean leaving tonight?"

Lynn shrugged. "I don't know. They didn't say. Sam mentioned something about getting a drink…"

"Him and Dean?"

"No. Me and him."

Jayne stared at her. Lynn felt the eyes and purposely did not look up.

"You going to go?"

"Nah."

"Why not? You love to drink."

Lynn looked up suddenly, ferociously. Her eyes flashed, and her jaw dropped in indignation. "Excuse me?"

Jayne was grinning at her, clearly amused. Lynn relaxed slightly, realizing the joke. "Kidding. Come on, though. Why won't you go get a drink with the poor guy?"

Lynn shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, all the stuff with you and the demon thing…"

"Oh no you don't," Jayne interrupted. "You want to use me as an excuse not to go out with Sam, fine. Use it on Sam. But don't use it on me. I am perfectly fine, and I don't need you to babysit me. Tell me the real reason."

Lynn sighed, tracing squiggles with her finger on the tabletop. "There's no real reason. I just… you know, I think I'm just over him. I mean, it was fun for a little while, but… but eventually I wanted to get laid, and then… and then I didn't, and… and he has too much baggage, and I don't want to deal with that, and… and anyway, you know me. I want what I can't have, and I only like boys for two weeks at a time. Sam… Sam was a record. And now it's over and done with, and I… I think I'm just done."

Jayne stared at her. "You're done."

"Yeah. I'm over it."

"You're over it."

"Yeah."

"Right."

"Well, I am."

"Ok."

There was a long silence. Jayne stared at her. Lynn tried to stare back, but could feel her game face faltering.

"Just go get a drink with him," Jayne said.

"But…"

"I'm going to be fine here by myself. Really. So you should go. Leave me alone."

Jayne grinned. Lynn stared at her, crossing her arms over her chest. "Leave you alone?"

"Please."

Lynn glared at her.

Jayne sighed. "You've been mooning over that boy for months now, Lynn. You can't just decide to be over it the moment he asks you out. Just go get a drink with him, you weirdo."

Lynn stared.

"You might have fun," Jayne pointed out.

Lynn continued to stare.

"Besides, you never take anything slow," Jayne continued. "And now, Sam's kind of forcing you to. Because, you know, his issues. So… here's a chance to take things slow and see where it takes you. Might be nice. You never know."

The door opened. Lynn looked to the door and found Sam crossing the threshold. "Hey," he said, hands in his pockets.

"S'up," Jayne replied, looking back down at the notebook.

Lynn picked the ice scraper back up.

"Where's Dean?" Jayne asked.

Sam shrugged, standing awkwardly by the door. "I don't know. He dropped me off, said he'd be back."

Lynn saw her stepsister look up from the notebook, saw the brief surprise flicker in her eyes – surprise that was almost wounded. "Oh."

Lynn raised her eyebrow.

"So, is he like going to a bar or something?" Jayne asked. "Having some drinks, going home with some busty chick who's going to be a lot less attractive tomorrow morning?"

Sam chuckled slightly. "Um… yeah. That's probably a good guess."

Jayne nodded and looked back down at her notebook.

"What are you doing tonight?" she asked Sam.

Sam shrugged. "Um… hanging out here, it looks like."

There was a silence.

"You should go get a drink," Jayne suggested.

Lynn slammed down the ice scraper and fixed Jayne with a glare.

Sam blinked. "I should?"

"Yeah. Take Lynn."

"Jayne…" Lynn growled.

"It'll be fun," Jayne went on. "Trust me, Sam. She's super easy when you get her all liquored up."

Lynn threw the ice scraper at her stepsister's head.

"Whoa! Shit! I was kidding, psycho-bitch!"

"Uh…" Sam said.

"Yes," Jayne cut him off. "I am trying to get rid of you. All of you. Get out."

Sam laughed a little, sounding uncomfortable. "Uh… ok then…"

He turned to Lynn. "You want to?" he asked. "You know… go get a drink?"

Lynn stared at him. She stared at her stepsister. Then she stared at Sam again.

"Ok," she said finally.

He smiled, like a little boy. All light and teeth. Lynn smiled back in spite of herself.

"Let's go."

* * *

Dean swung through the motel room door, carrying a case of beer and a white paper bag of fast food takeout.

Jayne jumped. He heard her short, startled cry, and the sound of her notebook tumbling to the floor.

"Whoa," he said, freezing in the doorway. "Sorry. Just me."

"It's ok" she replied, taking a deep breath. Dean continued to stand still, watching her. She dangled her legs over the side of the bed and picked up the large yellow steno pad she'd dropped.

"Where is everyone?" Dean asked.

"Sam and Lynn went to get a drink," Jayne replied, laying the notebook on the mattress.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Dean cackled, striding over to the table and dropping his groceries on top. "That's my boy."

He felt Jayne's eyes as he unfolded the top of the white paper bag. He took out a long white box and set it down on the table.

"I got you chili-cheese fries," he announced.

She blinked at him. "You did?"

"Yep." He grinned at her.

She stared at him. Then, slowly, she got to her feet and crossed the room towards the table.

He pulled out his bacon cheeseburger and slapped it down on the table. Then he ripped open the cardboard case of PBR and brought out two cold cans, plopping one down in front of Jayne and one down next to his burger.

She unwrapped the fries, sniffing at them suspiciously. He considered laughing. When she reached for the beer, he remembered her wrist and snatched back the can, popping the tab.

Jayne stared at him. "I can open my own beer," she informed him.

He rolled his eyes, plopping the can back down in front of her. "Oh, calm down. You hurt your wrist. I'm just trying to help you out."

She threw back a hefty gulp of the beer. "Whatever."

He ripped open the cheeseburger wrapper as she began picking at her fries. Dean tore a chunk of burger off with his teeth and made a loud, grunting sound of orgasmic pleasure.

"You're so gross," Jayne announced.

He smirked at her around a mouthful of bacon and cheese. "You want me."

"Pass."

He kept wolfing down the burger. She chewed a fry. "I thought you were going to go out and get laid," she announced.

He shrugged. "Monster movie marathon on AMC," he replied. "You in?"

Jayne raised an eyebrow at him. "You want to watch monster movies with me?"

"Clearly," he retorted. "Or I wouldn't have asked you."

"Wow," she said. "You slowing down there, old man?"

"Shut up."

She smiled.

He finished off the burger, tossed the crinkled up foil, and headed for the TV, beer in hand. Jayne lifted her fries and PBR off the table and headed for one of the beds, sitting down on the side nearest the nightstand and arranging her dinner on top of the small table.

Dean grabbed the remote, switching it on and flipping through the channels. He plopped down on the bed beside her, ignoring the dirty look she gave him and the pointed look directed at the second bed.

The first film was _Frankenstein_.

Dean propped his arm up on the headboard and took a gulp of his beer before setting it on the headboard as well. His arm was behind Jayne's head, and he saw her looking at it with disconcertment before she leaned back against the pillow and focused on the TV screen.

"I'm telling you, man," Dean announced. "Original Frankenstein? That guy was badass."

"Too bad the special effects don't match up to his personal badass-ery," Jayne returned dryly.

Dean mock gasped. "Bite your tongue, heathen."

She laughed quietly, a genuine smile spreading across her face. Dean grinned too, because he liked her smile. He could admit that, he decided. That he liked her smile. It was a nice smile, and she didn't wear it too often.

They sat on the bed, watching _Frankenstein_, making jokes, drinking beer. The movie passed, ended, and the next one started. _Dracula_.

This one was harder to watch than the first, and Dean wasn't entirely sure why. But the jokes stopped, and the two of them grew quiet.

"Dean?"

He looked down at Jayne, surprised by the sound of his name. They were halfway into _Dracula_, and she'd been quiet through the whole movie.

"Yeah?" he asked.

Her eyes remained fixed on the TV screen. "What was the first thing your dad taught you about demons?"

Dean frowned. "The very first thing?"

She nodded, still not looking at him. Dean wasn't sure he liked where this was going, but he answered the question nonetheless. "Demons lie."

Jayne nodded again, her eyes traveling downward from the television to rest on the comforter. "Right."

They lapsed into silence again. The bad Transylvanian accent of Count Dracula and his screeching musical accompaniment echoed throughout the silent room. Dean was no longer paying attention to the movie. He doubted Jayne was either.

"What about you?" he asked. "What was the very first thing Russ taught _you_ about demons?"

She smiled a very tiny smile.

"Demons lie."

Again, the long silence. Dean watched her, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"You ever think that… that maybe, sometimes, they don't?"

The question was a sticky one, and Dean didn't want to answer it. He frowned again. "Well… I mean… maybe. I guess. I mean… they'd have to tell the truth sometimes, right?"

"Right," she echoed softly.

"What did that thing say to you?" Dean demanded.

Her jaw went tight. "Nothing."

"Bull shit. It's got you over here asking about demons and their lying habits. It said something to you. What did it say?"

"Nothing," she insisted. "Just, you know… typical demon stuff. Slash typical horny pervert stuff, so… nothing new."

She was a liar. Dean knew it, the way he knew that his car was awesome and no meal could ever top a bacon cheeseburger. Demons weren't the only ones that lied. Humans lied too, and they lied all the time. Right now, Jayne was lying to him. But he didn't call her on it, because he recognized her lie. It was the same lie he told Sam, the same lie he told civilians that needed him… it was the kind of lie you told someone when bad things happened. When bad things happened that you don't want anyone else to know about. A protective lie. The lie of the man – or, in this case, woman – with a too heavy burden on his or her shoulders.

So the demon had said something to her, and whatever it was had shook her up good. But she wasn't going to tell him about it – at least, not right now. Not while it was fresh in her head. Yes, he knew about things like that. She didn't have to tell him – not now. Not until whatever the demon had said became glaringly, obviously important.

He let the subject drop. "Original Dracula was badass," he announced.

Jayne sighed. "Are you going to say that during every movie?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

They fell into their silence again – the silence he could only have with her. The comfortable silence of two people who don't need to talk. Dean was in trouble, he recognized it now. He'd known since this case began that he was in trouble. The lengths he was willing to go to protect her – his only friend. This was exactly why he never kept friends.

But it was too late for all that, because she was his friend. Dean leaned into the headboard, and stared at the TV. Dracula seemed so unimportant now. He stared at the screen unseeingly, unsure as usual what to do.

* * *

Sam was tipsy. More than tipsy, if truth be told. He could drive without crashing into a tree, but he had no control over the things that might come out of his mouth.

Lynn was drunk. If you asked her, of course, she would deny this. But as far as Sam was concerned, she was drunk.

It had been an accidental thing, this two party drunkenness. He had bought her a vodka and cranberry, because he remembered that she liked those. He'd been content to nurse a beer.

She had forced a margarita down his throat, followed by two chocolate cake shots. Her ecstasy upon learning that the bartender knew how to make these chocolate cake shot things was actually rather cute.

Beer after beer had been consumed, as well as vodka and cranberry after vodka and cranberry. There had been the throwing back of more inventive, creative shots that Sam didn't quite remember the names of.

So maybe he was drunk. Maybe they were both drunk. Maybe he couldn't drive without crashing into a tree and he'd have to call Dean for a ride. But it didn't matter. The liquor was rushing through his veins now, loosening his tongue, stretching his facial muscles into a genuine smile.

Under a haze of alcohol and loud music, leaning in over a table in the back, Sam asked her, "Do you do this often?"

She threw her head back and laughed. "Do what? Get drunk in a rundown, seedy ass bar?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm talking about!"

"You bet I do this often," she retorted. "You trying to tell me you don't?"

"Well… no, actually. I'm not really a big drinker…"

"You're kidding, right?" Lynn interrupted him. "How are you not a drinker?"

Sam laughed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Lynn snorted, waving her hand at him in a way that was highly amusing. "Half the fun of this job is going to the bar whenever the hell you want to and getting wasted."

Sam laughed again, his mouth wide open. He could feel the strain of his mouth muscles as he smiled just a little too wide.

"That's half the fun of this job?"

"Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I wasn't aware there was any fun to this job."

"There's tons of fun to this job. No nine-to-five, no _taxes_… plenty of booze, plenty of beating down evil bitches…"

"Oh, yeah. Sounds like a blast."

"I don't know who you think you're kidding."

"What?"

"You love it. I see your face when you kill things."

"I don't love killing things."

"No. No one does, not really. But you love making a difference."

There was a long silence.

"I just wish I could make a difference the normal way."

"The normal way? Oh, come on, Sam!"

"What?"

"There is no _normal_ way to make a difference. _Normal _people don't make a difference. They don't even try. _Normal _people sit on their asses and wait for someone else to sort the whole mess out. We aren't _normal _people, Sam. We can never be _normal _people."

"But why can't we?"

"Because _normal _people don't know the things we know. _Normal_ people are ignorant. We aren't ignorant, Sam. And you can whine and complain that you know too much and your daddy ruined your life – god knows I used to – but in the end, you're safer for knowing what you know. Nothing creeps into your motel room at night because you lined the walls with salt. Nothing gets the drop on you because you know to look over your shoulder."

"But the people I love still die."

There was another long silence.

"The people we love will always die, Sam. That's life. Not just our life – everyone's life."

He stared at her for a little while, not able to argue against the truth of the statement, but not able to fully agree with it either. "So you think all the people we've loved and lost would still be gone even if we didn't lead this life?"

Lynn's tipsy smile was gone. She looked him straight in the eye, solemn. "I think that if I didn't lead this life, then most of the people I love – including the ones I _haven't_ lost – would have never entered my life in the first place."

Sam stared at her again.

"Hell," Lynn shrugged, taking a huge gulp of her drink. "If my dad hadn't led this life… I'd probably have never been born."

"But it's so awful," Sam insisted. The joking, happy, drunkenness of the conversation was fading. Nothing sobers one up like talk of dying. As his words grew more serious so did he. Lynn too was somber. She was staring at him with an almost sober focus, her lips pursed together thoughtfully.

"What's so awful about it?" she asked.

"Everything," Sam returned. "All the nightmares and the fear of the dark… the knowledge of things most people never see, the weight on your shoulders, the responsibility… watching people grow old and busted. My brother gets older every time I look at him, Lynn. It's a hard life. You know that. It's hard. And it doesn't get any easier. Watching people die, watching anything die… watching as you squeeze the life out of it…"

He swallowed and shook his head, looking down into his beer. "Doesn't it kill you a little? Every time?"

For a long time, Lynn didn't answer. She stared at the table.

"I wish I could say it did," she said finally. "It used to. But now… I wish I could say you don't get used to it. I wish I could say that it still bothers me… that I still have nightmares. I wish I could care as deeply about the people we help as I cared when I first started out. I wish I meant it when I said my sorries… I wish a lot of things Sam. But wishing never did anyone any good. It's a hard life, but it's a life. And for all the bad we see and all the bad we might even do… we do enough good in the end to get by. To matter. Someday, you're going to have to let that be enough."

And Sam stared at her, his vision still blurred by the booze, trying to get a handle on what she was telling him, fearing that one day, if this hunt continued, he was going to say those things to another hunter, a younger hunter… that someday it wouldn't be Lynn Juarez talking, it would be Sam Winchester… and that scared him a little.

Not as much as she did. She scared him a lot. That she could admit the killing didn't bother her anymore – that scared him. It should have come from Jayne's stern mouth and hard eyes. It should have come from his brother's straight jaw and tough man swagger. It should not have come from Lynn's softly smiling lips and her doe brown gaze.

"I'm scaring you," she whispered. Sam could hear that whisper above the thumping music because she had slid across the booth, and leaned into his side. Her mouth was inches from his ear.

He nodded.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't want to scare you, Sam. I just want to… I want to tell you things."

Sam stared at her.

"You have that look," she told him. "The look that makes people tell you things. But I guess you knew that."

He smiled at her. "It's not the first time I've heard that, no."

"But it's more than that. I want to tell you things, but… but I want you to tell me things back. I want to learn things – things about you. I just… I want to touch you, Sam. Would that be all right, if I touched you?"

Was it the liquor coursing through his veins, the liquor flaming in his face, clouding his vision, muddling his brain? He nodded, because suddenly he did want her to touch him. He wanted her to touch him so bad it nearly hurt, the way his muscles grew taut and tense, anticipating.

She reached for him. Her fingers tugged gently on the dark hair that was growing a little too long… he used to keep his hair so neat, back at Stanford. Short and neat. It was getting sloppy.

Her fingers traveled through that messy hair, trailing down his cheek and his neck. Sam closed his eyes, savoring the tingle that traveled from the skin under her fingers to his spine, making him shiver.

Suddenly, she was in his lap. Her hands were around his jaw. Her lips were against his and he was pumping back with equal force, letting her kiss him, kissing her…

Her wet mouth moved down his chin and under his chin, all along his neck, heading for the collar of his shirt. He grabbed at her black hair, enamored by the silky consistancy as it slipped and slid through his fingers.

Her lips ended up on his lips again. Wet and warm. Tasting like cranberry. Her tongue was poking at his mouth, gently, reassuringly… coaxingly.

Sam pulled back, his stomach flipping over and then climbing up into his throat. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You're always sorry," she pouted at him.

"I want to," he said. "I really, really do. But…"

"Don't say it," she cut him off. "Please don't say it; I already know."

He stared at her. She really was a beautiful woman. She looked at him with her molasses eyes.

"I don't know what I want," he said, the truth of it hitting him in the stomach the way fists do. He almost laughed. After all these months, it was a relief to finally realize that, while he didn't know, at least he knew that he didn't.

"I always used to know," he murmured. "But now I don't. I don't know what I want."

He'd half expected these words to make matters worse. But Lynn just smiled. "Sam," she told him. "I have that problem all the time."

* * *

"Wolfman. That was badass."

No reply from the blonde head on his shoulder. When Jayne's head had first ended up resting on his shoulder, Dean had gone instinctively on edge, but he'd let it go. Figured it was nice that she was getting less tense and closed off around him.

He jiggled his shoulder. "What, no comment?"

Apparently not, because she said nothing. Dean frowned, leaning down into her face. It became obvious that she was asleep.

That explained it all. She was leaning on him only because she had no idea she was leaning on him.

Dean shut off the TV. He sat quietly on the bed a moment, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pressing her against his side. She didn't stir, so Dean didn't let go.

Then he did something that was hands down the creepiest thing he had ever done. He leaned down and sniffed her hair.

It didn't really smell like anything other than hair. He supposed that shouldn't be surprising. She wasn't the type of girl who used hair products or scented shampoos. It just smelled like hair was supposed to smell. Like hair and like her. Cheap deodorant and clean cotton.

And as he turned off the light and lay down on the bed and curled her up on his chest, wrapping his arms around her, already regretting it when he pictured the angry jab in the ribs he'd get the next morning, he found it altogether unsettling that this woman who didn't need him to take care of her, but that he suddenly found he wanted to take care of, was the sort of woman who smelled only like cheap deodorant and clean cotton.


	37. The Short Straw

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Big thank yous to SingingInTheRain1989, Peridot809, kazza03, ksirrah, Spelllesswonder29, MY*P, legrowl, angeleyenc, Nelle07, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, Lov3good, marky deedee, Three Moons, tore, impalame, tiaracove, martine, skm228, deansbabygirl934, sugarrush, and januarysunshine13, for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 37: The Short Straw

Jayne was flipping through the pages of one of her stepfather's notebooks, sitting on the bed in her empty motel room. It was early morning, and gray light was seeping into the dim space, crawling across the maroon carpet and faded bedspreads.

Lynn was gone, and Jayne didn't know where. She'd woken up that morning, and Lynn had already left, leaving a note saying she'd be back with coffee.

But that had been over an hour ago, so clearly coffee wasn't the only thing on her to-do list.

On a different morning, Jayne might have been worried. She might have been angry, or suspicious. She might have flipped through the channels on the TV, wondering where Lynn was.

This morning, Jayne was focused on Russ's steno pads. Flipping through them, one after the other, looking for… well, she wasn't sure what she was looking for.

Less than a week ago, Jayne had heard something from the lips of a demon that had thrown her. It could have been a lie. It wouldn't surprise her if it was a lie.

But the way things were going lately, it also wouldn't surprise her if it were true.

There were vague, shadowy suspicions growing and hiding on the edges of her thoughts, suspicions about a lot of things and a lot of people, suspicions that she was doing her best not to articulate for fear of being right.

So she searched aimlessly, hoping to find an answer to the unasked question, fearing that she would.

As she sat on her bed, leafing through that yellow pad of paper, the door to the motel room suddenly burst open, slamming into the wall, and Lynn stomped in.

"You!" she snapped, pointing at Jayne. "You have some explaining to do!"

Jayne blinked. Her stepsister was holding a small folder her pointing hand.

"I don't see any coffee," she announced.

"How could you not tell me?!" Lynn shouted. "How could you let Dad lie to me, all these years… why didn't you say anything?"

Jayne frowned, laying the steno pad on the bed and getting to her feet. "Why didn't I say anything about what?"

Lynn snorted, tossing her hair. Her eyes were glistening. "Like you don't know."

"I don't," Jayne returned. "What are you talking about Lynn?"

Lynn flipped open the folder with a ferocious jerk of the hand, yanking out a heavy sheet of paper and holding it up in front of her stepsister's face. "What is this?"

Jayne frowned at the paper being waved in front of her nose. "Good question. Want to stop flapping that thing around?"

"It's a death certificate! It's my mother's death certificate!"

"Why do you have your mother's death certificate?"

"What does it say, Jayne?"

"Well, if you'd hold the damn thing still a minute…"

"Date of death," Lynn bit out. Her tone was ice pellets hitting Jayne in the face. "July 12th, 1982!"

Jayne froze, blinking like a stunned fish.

"Dad told me she died in childbirth!" Lynn screamed at her. "_My _childbirth! Why didn't you tell me!?"

Jayne stared at the paper still being waved in her face, slowly shaking her head.

Lynn was born on June 27th, 1981.

"That has to be a mistake," she whispered hoarsely.

"Stop lying to me!" Lynn thundered.

Jayne looked Lynn directly in the eye. "I swear, I don't know anything…"

"How could you do that?" Lynn demanded. She sounded on the verge of tears. "All these years, I thought giving birth to me had killed my mother. Do you know what that feels like?"

Jayne shook her head, mouth moving soundlessly.

"And now I find out that my family has been lying to me my entire life? That my birth wasn't what killed her? That she died one year later?"

They stared at each other, Lynn still furious, Jayne still shocked.

"How did she die?" Lynn demanded. "I want to know how she really died."

Even though the look Lynn was giving her was enough to make her flinch, Jayne stared her sister straight in the eye. "I swear on _my_ mother's grave," Jayne returned stonily. "That I did _not_ know about this."

Lynn shook her head, lip trembling, expression disbelieving.

"I _swear_," Jayne insisted. "Russ told me the same story he told you. I never knew any different."

"You were three years old when she died," Lynn retorted. "You don't remember seeing her holding me, or… or anything?"

Jayne shook her head. "Not once."

Lynn gripped the bridge of her nose, turning from her sister. "Why would Dad keep this from me?"

"I don't know, Lynn… maybe he thought he was protecting you…"

"How was that protecting me?"

"Lynn…"

"I want to know how she really died!"

"What does the death certificate say?"

"Accidental!" Lynn snapped, facing Jayne once again. "What the hell does that even mean? Accidental?"

Jayne faltered, silenced.

"In our line of work," Lynn bit out in a low, dangerous voice. "There are no accidents."

It was then that Lynn's cell phone rang.

Jayne honestly thought her stepsister wasn't going to take the call. The phone rang nearly six times. Finally, Lynn tore her eyes away from Jayne's and wrenched her cell phone out of her purse.

"Hello?" she answered angrily.

As Jayne watched, the hurt and angry expression faded from Lynn's face. It was replaced instantly by worry. "Sam?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

She turned away from Jayne, disappearing out the motel room door.

Jayne stood stock still in the middle of the room, trying to catch her breath. She felt like she'd just been mowed over by a tornado. Her stepsister had stormed in, yelled, bowled her over with the unexpected, and then swirled on out the door.

The death certificate lay abandoned on the bed. Jayne frowned, picking it up and giving it a once over.

Inez Marcella Rodriguez. Born October 9th, 1955. Date of Death: July 12th, 1982. Cause: Accidental.

It simply could not be true.

The door opened and Lynn stepped back into the room. "Jayne…" she began.

"Why did you even look for this?" Jayne demanded, rounding on her stepsister.

Lynn looked her in the eye. "It's not important right now."

"Like hell it isn't."

"Jayne," Lynn said patiently. "That was Sam. There was an accident."

For the second time in ten minutes, Jayne's muscles seized up and her stomach shrank. "What?"

"They were hunting a raw-head," Lynn told her. Jayne didn't care for her gentle tone of voice. "Dean got hurt."

A raw-head? A low-level child-eating monster hurt Dean Winchester?

"I guess the thing was in a basement… Dean shocked it, but… there was water…"

Jayne closed her eyes, swallowing.

"He's in the hospital. The doctors say… they say he only has a month."

Jayne let Inez Rodriguez's death certificate slide out of her hand, coming to rest on the bed once again. "A month before what?" she asked hoarsely.

Lynn's face was mixed with incredulity and pity. "Jayne… he only has a month to live."

There was a long silence.

"Pack your shit," Jayne ordered. "We're leaving right now."

* * *

Everything hurt.

It was hard to keep his eyes open. Dean stared at the television sitting right before him, flipping channels listlessly, tired but not enough to sleep, bored but not enough to click the off button.

He heard Sam enter the room before he saw him. His brother appeared at the doorway, ducking around the white curtain that separated Dean from the other patient in the room.

"You ever really watch daytime TV?" he asked before Sam could say a word. "It's terrible."

"I spoke to your doctor."

They were going to have the talk, Dean could feel it. He moved to take control, to make the conversation less sappy.

"That fabric softener teddy bear. Ooh, I want to hunt that little bitch _down_."

"Dean."

"Yeah."

He switched off the TV, tossed the remote. "Well, looks like you're going to leave town without me."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked. "I'm not going to leave you here."

"Hey, you better take care of that car. Or I swear I'll haunt your ass."

"I don't think that's funny."

"Oh, come on. It's a little funny."

Sam looked out the window by the bed. Dean watched Sam's jaw tighten in a pained grimace, hoped the kid wasn't going to cry.

"Hey, Sammy, what can I say? It's a dangerous gig. I drew the short straw. That's it. End of story."

"Don't talk like that, all right?" Sam snapped. "We still have options."

"What options? Burial or cremation?"

The glare his brother sent him almost hurt, but not enough for Dean to apologize. "There's got to be something we can do," Sam pressed. "I just have to find it."

Dean sighed heavily. "Sam…"

"I've already called Lynn. All we need to do…"

"Oh, Sam, come on!" Dean practically exploded, would have exploded if he hadn't been so tired. "Why would you do that?"

"I have to do something, Dean!"

"No, you don't. There's nothing you _can_ do. Sam, there's nothing _they_ can do."

What Dean didn't say was that he didn't want them to see him like this. He wasn't supposed to look pale and weak and tired in front of the other two hunters. He wasn't even supposed to look this way in front of Sam. And… and he knew that the two of them were going to come now, to see him, to say goodbye…

It was one thing to sit there and bullshit Sam, to say his goodbyes to his little brother… it would take a lot from him that he didn't normally have to give, but he could manage.

Jayne could not come into this room and see him all sick and dying. She could not sit by that bed and tell him she was sorry he drew the short straw.

That was something he wasn't sure he could muscle through. That was something he shouldn't have to do.

"Look," he told his brother, hoping to make Sam understand. "I know it isn't easy. But I'm going to die. And you can't stop it."

Sam stared back at him, determined as ever, and Dean knew his words hadn't made a difference.

"Watch me."

* * *

It had not been a car ride for conversation.

Jayne had been silent, stone-faced. She had gunned that little old truck down the highway at speeds twenty to thirty mph over the speed limit. She'd chewed on the inside of her mouth the whole way, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel.

Lynn didn't dare speak a word to her. She was afraid to say anything. She was afraid all that would come out of her mouth would be accusations, and Jayne didn't need that right now. She was mad as hell, learning what she had learned earlier that morning, but Jayne insisted she hadn't known – and although Lynn was still skeptical, Sam's news had forced her to table her questions and frustrations. Dean was hurt – dying, actually – and they needed to focus on that.

Lynn was angry with her stepsister, but she was worried about her too. While she wasn't certain exactly where the relationship between Dean and Jayne stood, she knew the two of them had grown a little closer with each hunt. In fact, Jayne had even called the elder Winchester her friend. Lynn hadn't heard Jayne refer to _any_ of the people they'd gotten to know over the past few years as a friend.

She was also worried about Sam, who had sounded desperate over the phone. He'd mentioned something about research, about looking for a way to save Dean… when Lynn had cut him off, saying she was sure they would come out to see the two brothers immediately, Sam had stopped this kind of talk. His tone had grown brighter, though, and he'd thanked her profusely.

Dean was dying of a burnt out heart. How exactly was Sam going to save him?

Lynn was upset too. She wasn't exactly close to Dean, but she did like him. He was fun to be around. And she owed the elder Winchester her older sister's life several times over.

She didn't want him to die.

What she did want was answers. She wanted to know how her mother had died. She wanted to know why everyone had lied to her about her mother's death. She wanted to know why Jayne, a three year old girl at the time when Inez Rodriguez died, had no memory of her.

Sure, Jayne had been very young. Lynn supposed she couldn't expect her stepsister to remember much from the third year of her life. And if her dad really had been feeding Jayne the same lie about Inez Rodriguez that he'd fed her, maybe it was easy for Jayne to repress any contradicting memories she might have. Easy to write them off as confused fantasies of the young psyche.

What Lynn wanted most of all, however, even more than explanations, was to fully trust Jayne. She wanted to know for certain that her stepsister had not been in on their father's lie. She wanted to believe Jayne when the older woman claimed she hadn't known.

But she couldn't.

By now, they'd reached the hospital where Dean was staying. Jayne parked in the visitor's lot and shut down the engine.

For a moment, the two of them simply sat in the truck, staring at the large white building with too many windows.

"You going to be all right?" Lynn asked.

Jayne nodded. "Sure."

They didn't move. "Lynn," Jayne said suddenly, turning to her with wide earnest eyes. "I swear I didn't know about your mom. I swear it."

Lynn began to feel uneasy. "I know."

"I don't know if you do. Lynn, I would have never kept that from you. I didn't know, I promise you. Please believe me."

"I do," Lynn assured her stepsister, although she didn't entirely mean it. "I do believe you."

Jayne stared at her for a moment, not looking convinced. Then she nodded, and looked away.

"Good," she whispered.

The two of them hopped down from the cab and headed for the hospital.

They followed the signs to the right floor and when they hit the hall where Dean's room was, they found Sam pacing under the fluorescent lighting, talking into his cell phone.

He'd hung up by the time the two reached him. He turned, saw them, and his face lit up.

Lynn gave him a quick, tiny smile. "Hey, Sam."

"Thank you guys for coming out so fast," Sam exclaimed. "Seriously, thank you so much."

"No problem," Lynn returned. "I mean… we couldn't not come out, not with Dean…"

"Where is he?" Jayne cut her off. "Dean. Where is he?"

"Two doors down. He's sleeping right now." Sam ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "He's in bad shape."

Lynn reached out, considering patting him on the arm. Then she froze and lowered her arm, deciding against it.

Sam didn't notice, but Jayne did. She frowned at Lynn, but Lynn pretended not to see her. Jayne shrugged, and then glanced in the direction of Dean's room.

She could see her sister shifting about nervously and knew she was anxious to see Dean.

"I really am glad you came out here," Sam was saying. Lynn looked at him, giving him a smile. "I really appreciate it. The research will go a lot faster with your help."

Lynn frowned. "Research?"

"Yeah. You know, what I was telling you on the phone? I mean, think about it. All the things we see out there, every day… there's got to be some way to save him."

Lynn glanced nervously at her stepsister. Jayne was no help, as she was still staring vacantly down the hallway. "Sam," Lynn said gently, laying a hand on his arm. "Look, I know you want to help Dean, but… but this isn't a hunt. We're not dealing with a ghost or a demon or anything like that. I just don't think…"

"Well, I have to try," Sam snapped.

Lynn fell silent. She swallowed, eyeing the floor tiles.

He looked almost regretful. "He's my brother," Sam said softly.

"Well, I'm in."

Both Lynn and Sam looked at Jayne in surprise. "You are?" Sam asked.

Jayne nodded. "Yep."

Sam's eyes got a little wider, a little brighter. He glanced at Lynn.

Lynn sighed, pursing her lips. She nodded. "Of course I'm in."

Sam smiled. "Thanks."

They were quiet a little while. Finally, Sam spoke. "We should get back to the motel. Make some calls, do some research."

"What about Dean?" Lynn asked.

Sam glanced guiltily towards his brother's hospital room. "I don't really want to leave him," he admitted. "But…"

"I'll stay."

Jayne had volunteered. Again, Sam and Lynn looked at her in surprise. She shrugged at them.

"You two are better at research," she murmured. "I can keep him company for awhile. Even make some phone calls while I'm here."

Lynn stared at her. Sam smiled a little. "Thanks," he said. "Thank you, Jayne."

Jayne shrugged again. Lynn stared at her sister a little longer, but Jayne didn't meet her eyes. She just turned her back on both Sam and Lynn and headed for Dean's room.

"Call if you find anything," she said over her shoulder before disappearing inside the hospital room.

Lynn frowned after her stepsister. Slowly, she turned to Sam.

"Ready to go?" he asked, forcing a smile.

She forced a smile back.

"Sure."

* * *

Jayne walked into the hospital room. One step inside and she froze, just over the threshold. Dean was in the hospital bed, eyes closed. Jayne swallowed, feeling sudden pricking at the corners of her eyes. She stood still in the doorway of Dean's hospital room, staring at him.

He was battered. Pale, purple, frail. He looked like an old man, or maybe a young child. He wore one of those stupid white hospital gowns and he was connected to several machines, all beeping and blinking…

He was sleeping. It took several long seconds before she could force herself away from the door, enter the small, gray room, cross the squeaky linoleum floor. Her breath caught in her chest as she stepped closer to the bed; her fingers shook.

She stopped next to his bed and stared at him.

"Boo!"

Jayne jumped about ten feet in the air as Dean's eyes flew open and he sat up in bed. Immediately, he started laughing.

"You son of a bitch," Jayne snapped.

"Hey, now," Dean admonished, settling back against his pillow. "Is that anyway to talk to a dying man?"

"Don't you try that dying crap on me," she said. "You ain't going to get any sympathy."

"Cold hearted woman."

She stared at him for a moment. He looked away from her, swiping the remote off the bedside table and flipping through the channels. "Miss me, huh?" he asked, eyes focused on the television screen.

Jayne stared at the side of his face. "I kind of wonder what you'd do if I said yes."

He whipped his head to the side, frowning at her. She smirked. He laughed slightly, looking down at the floor and then back up at her.

"So did Sam fill you in on his genius plan yet?"

"You mean the plan where he saves your ass from dying? Yeah, I've been informed."

"He's determined," Dean said, nodding, not looking at her.

Jayne watched him.

"I told him not to bother," he went on, focused on the TV again. "Told him it was a goose chase. But he's a stubborn one. Not going to let me die in peace."

There was a long silence.

"Well… he is your brother," Jayne murmured. "Bet if the situation was reversed…"

"Yeah, yeah."

They were quiet again.

"Maybe he'll find something," Jayne said.

Dean raised his eyebrow at her. "Trying to give me false hope, Goldilocks?"

Jayne sighed. "No… I just mean… hell, weirder things have happened, right?"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah."

She sat down in the chair by the bed. "Going to keep me company?" Dean asked.

"Apparently," she returned.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment. "You know, I'm really all right with this," Dean announced.

She just looked at him.

"I am," he insisted. "I mean, we all got to go sometime, right? Especially in this business. Now's my time, well… then now's my time."

"So you're perfectly fine with dying at twenty-seven?"

"Yep. I'm fine with it."

"Really."

"Yep."

"Well, I'm not."

He stared at her.

She stared back.

"So you're jumping on board with Sam's whole rescue Dean against his will plan?" he asked.

She shrugged.

"Traitor."

"I recall you jumping on board with Lynn's whole rescue Jayne against her will plan about a week ago," she retorted. "So… excuse me if I'm not all that sympathetic."

"Like I said: cold hearted woman."

They were quiet. Dean stared at the TV. He chuckled at whatever was happening onscreen. Jayne couldn't say what was so funny; she wasn't paying attention to the television. She was paying attention to him. The day old stubble on the side of his face, the blue shadows under his eyes, the dry skin scabbing on his lips…

"I'll be right back," she said, getting to her feet.

"No rush."

She ducked out into the hall, feeling the pricking sensation in her eyes again. There was a public restroom down the hall. She headed straight for it.

In the restroom, she stood over the sink, taking deep steadying breaths as she stared at herself in the mirror. A tear trickled out of her eye and down her cheek.

She took another deep breath, wiping the tear away. She blinked several times, trying to keep back the other tears pricking insistently at her eyes.

After a few moments, she regained her self-control and stepped back out into the harshly lit hall. A nurse passed by, giving her a suspicious look. Jayne stared evenly back and the woman kept moving.

She had a feeling she wasn't allowed in the hospital all night unless she was family. She was almost certain, as a matter of fact.

If someone asked, she'd say she was his sister. But she wasn't going to leave. Not when he was laying in that stupid little bed with that thin scratchy blanket and all those dumb machines…

And suddenly, little moments began rolling across her mind like a slideshow; a long conversation over bones and earthworms… Janis rumbling back to life… the way he called her Goldilocks… how sometimes, when things got bad, he'd call her Jaynie…

Yelling at her brother… protecting her against her will… waking up in the morning with his arms wrapped around her… warm and comfortable until she finally slipped away, snuck into the bathroom…

Jayne whipped out her cell, dialed, and leaned against the wall in the hallway, waiting for Deedee to pick up her damn phone.

"Hello?"

"It's Jayne."

Stunned silence. "Jaynie?"

"Yeah."

"Jesus Christ, Jayne, what have you been doing?" Deedee demanded. "We haven't heard from you in months now. Lynn called just a week ago, but you…"

"Sorry."

"Sorry? Don't make me come through this phone and kick your ass!"

"Deedee," Jayne said quietly. "I need your help."

Deedee's half joking, half angry tone disappeared. "What happened?"

"Um… do you know… do you know any way to… to…"

"Ok, why are you stuttering?"

"Deedee… look, my friend is dying."

Long silence.

"What? Who?"

"You met him once."

"Who is it, Jayne?"

More silence.

"Dean Winchester."

"What? You mean fake name giving, 'I think I'm so smooth,' 'he probably has herpes' Dean Winchester?"

"Yeah. One and the same."

"What's he dying of?"

"He got hurt on a hunt," Jayne said shortly. "Damaged his heart. Doc says he's got a month. I need you to do something for me."

"Yeah. Sure. Anything."

"I know you're into that hoodoo stuff…"

"Hoodoo stuff? I wouldn't say I'm exactly into hoodoo, I more just…"

"Whatever you want to call it," Jayne cut her off impatiently. "But you know a few things other people might not. How do I save him?"

There was another long silence.

"Jaynie… this isn't some sort of demon or monster, ok? You can't just… save him."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because hoodoo doesn't cure heart damage."

"You trying to tell me that out of all the unnatural stuff out there we deal with on a daily basis… hoodoo, hauntings, demons, werewolves, shape shifters… that there is absolutely no way to save a dying man?"

Deedee didn't answer that question right away.

"Deedee," Jayne said in a low voice. "You know something, I want you to tell me."

The other woman sighed. "Jayne, look. I'm not some sort of search engine. I mean… Dad has all those old books and stuff, and I promise that I'll look through them, even make some phone calls, but…"

"But what?"

Again, she sighed. "I do know one way. But it's not a way you want to go."

"Try me."

"I mean it. I don't even want to tell you what it is… it's not something you'd go for. I mean, I'd hope…"

"Would you just spit it out?"

"Jayne!" Deedee practically yelled at her. "What you're asking… this is dark stuff. Do you really want to mess around with this shit?"

Jayne paused.

"No," she replied, voice pitched too high. "No, of course not."

Another pause.

"I mean… I don't know. Maybe it would depend."

Deedee's tone was incredulous. "It would depend?

"Well, come on Deedee!" Jayne exclaimed. "I mean, how dark are we talking here? Sell your soul to the devil dark, or throw some salt over your left shoulder dark?"

"Since when is throwing salt over your left shoulder _dark_?"

"I don't know… just…"

"The first one," Deedee interrupted. "It's that kind of dark."

Jayne was hushed.

"In fact," Deedee went on. "Selling your soul… is actually the only way I know."

Silence followed.

"Oh," Jayne finally said.

"I know the summoning ritual for the crossroads demon," Deedee explained. "And as of right now, it's the only thing I could give you that _might_ save Dean."

Another long silence.

"Give me the ritual," Jayne said.

"What?"

"Give me the ritual."

"Absolutely not!"

"Why?"

"Why? Because I'm not helping you sell your soul, you idiot! What are you thinking right now?"

"Deedee…"

"It's Dean Winchester, Jaynie. I didn't think you even _liked _him – I didn't even think you could _tolerate_ him! Now you want to sell your soul to save his life?"

"Of course I don't want to sell my soul!" she hissed into the phone. "I just want the ritual!"

"I'm not giving you the ritual. I don't trust you not to use it. What the hell is wrong with you, Jayne? He isn't worth this!"

"Shut up."

"Jaynie…"

"Shut up," Jayne snapped. "Don't tell me what he is and isn't worth. You don't know him."

"Maybe not, but…"

"He's the only _real _friend I have," Jayne pushed. "You don't know what he's done for me, the number of times he's saved my life, how he knows when to let me be and when to stick around."

"Jayne, I didn't mean it that way."

"I don't care if you like him. I like him. He's my friend, he's… when he's around… I'm not going to lose him. Now give me that damn ritual."

"No."

"I'm not going to sell my soul, Deedee. You think I'm an idiot? This is an insurance policy."

"What the hell does that even mean? An insurance policy? What, you want the ritual just in case you have to sell your soul? Jayne, you're being a crazy person right now!"

"Look, if we can't find another way to save him… I know how these demons work. They want to deal, and… maybe I can find something else they want, something that isn't my soul…"

"You're grasping at straws, Jaynie."

"I don't care."

There was another long silence.

"I'll do some research," Deedee said slowly. "I'll call some people, talk to Dad… if I can't find anything by tomorrow, I'll give you the ritual."

"Thank you."

"Don't make me regret this."

Jayne chuckled slightly. "Yeah, I won't."

Then she paused. "Rufus around?"

"On a hunt, two counties over. He'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Right. Well, tell him to call me, ok? I need to talk to him about something."

"Dean?"

"No. Something else. Just tell him to call me, ok?"

"Ok… bye Jaynie…"

"Talk to you tomorrow."

Jayne hung up the phone. She leaned against the wall a moment longer before sliding her cell back into her jeans pocket and returning to Dean's room.

This time he really was asleep. She sat down in the chair beside his bed, studying his pale, lined face.

Would she sell her soul for Dean Winchester?

Not a chance, she told herself, propping her feet up on the other chair in the room and playing absently with her nose stud.

She would never sell her soul, not for anybody. Selling your soul was for the selfish, the misguided, the just plain dumb. What deal with a demon ever went right, never went south? She chuckled quietly at her own joke – of course deals with demons went south. Everyone who'd ever made one ended up in the same place: down south, surrounded by hellfire and brimstone.

So why did she beg for that ritual? Jayne wasn't sure. She had heard the crossroads legends before, everything from Washington Irving right down to Robert Johnson. She knew how those legends went. Every deal with a devil had the same bottom line: your soul.

But souls couldn't be the only currency of the realm, she reasoned. There had to be larger prizes. There had to be other things demons wanted. Suppose she could find one of those things. Suppose she offered something like that up to the crossroads demon… then maybe she could still save Dean. She could save Dean, and she could escape the pit…

But what if there wasn't anything the crossroads demon wanted? What if demons really were all about the bottom line: human souls? What then? Would she sell her soul then? If it was the only way to save Dean?

Of course not, she insisted at the voice in her brain. Of course not. She wasn't stupid.

Wasn't it all pointless, anyway? Sam and Lynn and even Deedee were researching right now, searching for ways to save Dean. There was a chance she'd never have to speak to a crossroads demon after all.

She held onto that thought, desperately. There would be no need for the ritual.

Jayne sighed, watching Dean sleep. This was a problem. She was in deep – much too deep.

* * *

The hours were ticking by, into the night, past twelve and on towards early morning. Sam could feel the little time he had slipping away, too fast, his world crashing out of control.

He had to stop this. He had to save his brother. He had to try.

All the phone calls had been made, and no one had called back. Sam was staring at the screen of his laptop, searching spells and prayers and rituals, not sure which to try and what to discard.

Lynn was across the table in the cramped motel room, staring at her own laptop. Every once in a while, she'd check her cell. There were never any calls, never any texts.

"There's got to be something," Sam whispered.

She looked up at him. Stared at him quite evenly. "I hope there is."

"Don't say hope," Sam snapped. "I don't want to hear hope."

She just kept staring at him. Sam looked back down at the laptop, but he could only focus on the screen for so long when she was staring at him like that.

He got to his feet, heading for the bed. "I already checked my dad's journal," he announced, sitting on the mattress and sorting through the yellow steno pads that had once belonged to Russ Juarez. "But we haven't gone through all _your_ dad's notebooks yet."

He snatched up a notebook that looked relatively unfamiliar, and began leafing through the pages.

What Sam really wanted to know, he thought furiously, barely seeing the words written along the blue lines on the yellow paper, was where the hell his father was. He'd called the man, told him Dean's days were numbered. He wanted to know where his dad was and why his dad hadn't called back yet, or even sent a text. A part of Sam was hoping that John Winchester was going to wheel into town any minute now to save the day… or at least to see his dying son.

What sort of father didn't come running when he heard his son was dying? Sam was furious with his father all over again.

He kept thumbing through the pages. He heard the creak of Lynn's chair as she stood up and crossed the room.

She sat down next to him, reaching out and touching the side of his face. Sam froze underneath her hand, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She dropped her hand. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I just… you're taking this so hard, Sam."

"Am I?" he snapped. He was on his feet again. "Am I taking this hard? My brother's _dying_, Lynn – tell me, exactly how should I be taking this?"

Lynn sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap. She stared down at the floor. "I'm sorry, Sam. I just… I'm trying to help."

"Well, don't. Don't try and help. Not unless you're going to do some research and find a way to save Dean. Ok?"

He turned away from her, heading for his laptop again. She stood up, following him.

"This is not my fault!"

Sam froze, turning back around to look at her.

She was glaring at him.

"It's got to be rough," Lynn told him straight. "You've lost a lot, I get that. You don't want to lose Dean too. It's scary and you're hurting, and if it was Jayne in that hospital right now, I'd be every bit as upset as you are. But I didn't put Dean in that hospital, Sam. All I did was come out here and try to help you and try to comfort you, so don't you take this out on me!"

There was a long silence. Sam stared at her. She stared back, chest heaving as she drew in heavy, angry gulps of air, her dark eyebrows creased together.

"I know it's not your fault," he half-whispered. "But I don't want you to comfort me. The last thing I need right now is comforting. What I need are results."

She kept staring at him, eyebrows still creased angrily, now shaking her head. "Sam," she said gently. "I want Dean to live. I want to save him, ok? I will help you anyway I can, I will research this thing until I go blind and contract carpal tunnel. But I need you to prepare yourself. The odds of finding a solution to this problem are not good."

Sam shook his head, sitting down at the table and focusing on his computer.

"Do not ignore me," she pushed. "Why won't you talk to me, Sam? You're as bad as the other two. You won't ever talk about anything. You need to talk about this."

"I don't need to talk about this; I need to fix this."

"Dean is not a jammed gun, Sam."

"Leave me alone."

"I can't."

He looked up from the laptop and met her eyes. She stared back, lower lip tucked up tight against the top one, trying to hide the tremble. Her eyes promised resolution.

"I can't let him die."

"I know."

"There _has_ to be a way."

"No there doesn't."

She was being so cruel, Sam thought as he stared at her. Pushing on him when he was sore. He wanted to push back, but couldn't find anything to push with.

The tight lips loosened and the hard eyes melted and suddenly she was beside the table, in front of his chair, leaning over him. "It's going to sting," she told him. "That's normal."

"I don't know if I can do this without him."

Honesty at the most basic of levels.

Lynn stroked hair behind his ear, and this time Sam didn't protest her touch. "I know you can."

"That's worse."

She stared at him.

"I'm so sorry, Sam."

Her warm hand cupped the side of his face and her thumb brushed his cheekbone. He closed his eyes, swallowed.

Suddenly he wanted her. He wanted to feel her warm skin against his and he wanted to bury his face in her silky hair and he wanted all her warmth and softness and comfort… all of her. He wanted all of her.

And it was a terrible thing to want when Dean was lying in the hospital, dying slowly, but Sam wanted what he wanted, and for once he knew it. He'd seen countless scribbles from his father's hand and Lynn's father's hand, and he'd scrolled through website after website, and he'd called every contact his family had, and he was tired, and the world was caving in. He was helpless and no help seemed to be coming and she was pretty and when she touched him, things didn't hurt so bad.

Things weren't as sharp. He could almost forget. And it was a terrible thing, to want to forget. But he wanted to. And she could help him.

Before he fully understood any of this desire or any of this pain, he was on his feet and reaching for her. Suddenly she was off the ground, in his arms, her chest pressed against his chest, her lips pumping against his lips. His tongue was forcing its way into her mouth and he was moving back towards the bed.

They collapsed on top of it, notebooks tumbling to the ground, and what Sam like most about it all, he decided, was that Lynn was not protesting this movement. She was going with it, the way he was going with it. His lips moved from her lips to her neck and his fingers crawled up inside her purple sweater where they found her bra and unhooked the clasp.

Her fingers were traveling down his chest, unbuttoning as they went, shelling off his burnt brown flannel. It hit the floor. His tee shirt followed.

Then her sweater joined it, and her tank top, and her bra. She rolled over and his bare back hit the cold comforter. Lynn's warm wet mouth made its way down his chest, her tongue grazing nipples and her teeth pricking at skin, and he made a stifled, half moaned sound from behind his clenched lips.

Then she was on her back, and his mouth was over her nipple, his hand cupping round molded jelly, and then his fingers had traveled down over her brown stomach and they were undoing her pants.

Clothes flew off and hit the ground. Her bare thighs clenched around his middle as he entered her, and the two of them shook the bed with their vigorous movements and probably woke the neighbors with their loud, echoing cries.

When he was spent and she was spent, the two of them fell against the mattress, breathless, and Sam grabbed her again, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face buried deep in her neck. He inhaled her baby powder and floral perfume.

They didn't speak. It had been a long day and they were both tired. Almost immediately, they drifted off into the sleep of the sated.

Sam held her too tightly, and forced his face deeper into the crook of her neck, the satisfaction leaving him now. What sort of man sleeps with a woman while his brother is lying in the hospital, dying?

The Winchester men, he thought bitterly, were just one long string of disappointments and they all seemed to disappoint the same person: Dean.


	38. Faith

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Big thank yous to tiaracove, kazza03, M*YP, ksirrah, SingingInTheRain1989, angeleyenc, Lov3good, Three Moons, impalame, legrowl, Nelle07, skm228, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, fakeelectric, and aviators+summer=love for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 38: Faith

The mattress springs creaked and the bed shifted. Lynn, still drowsy, blinked awake at the movement, eyes focused lazily on the dark wall of the dim motel room.

There was a strong, warm arm wrapped around her waist. Her back was jammed up against a hard hot chest, and heavy, humid breath was steaming in the crook of her neck.

She closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose. She was comfortable in this embrace, almost happy. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want Sam to wake up.

Because when Sam woke up she was certain this comfort would end. When Sam woke up…

She dreaded the moment when Sam woke up.

Too soon, the springs creaked again and the warm arm unwrapped itself from her waist. Slowly, he rolled away from her, and she cringed as she lost his warmth, the cold air hitting her bare back.

She felt the load on the mattress lighten as Sam got to his feet. She heard him rummage through their abandoned clothing, presumably searching for his underwear.

Lynn opened her eyes. She stared dully at the wall for a moment, and then sat up in bed. Clutching the sheet around her chest, she turned to Sam and stared at his back.

It was a nice back. Tanned and rippled. She watched the stretch and pull of his muscles as he pulled a tee shirt over his head. Then he stumbled over to the table by the window, leaning over his laptop and clicking on the keyboard.

Lynn stared quietly at him. He swiped his cell off the tabletop first and then hers, checking for calls or texts or voicemails.

"Anything?" she asked, her voice a startling tone that resonated throughout the too still room.

He glanced up at her, lowered his eyes almost instantly. "No."

Long silent seconds ticked by. Sam lowered himself into a chair, staring at the screen of his computer.

For a few moments, Lynn sat uselessly in the bed, not sure what to do. Then, taking the sheet with her, she slowly climbed out of the bed and began rooting through the scattered clothes on the ground for the articles that belonged to her.

Underwear. Sweater. Jeans.

"Are you all right?" she asked Sam in a hoarse half-whisper.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving the computer screen. "How could I be all right?"

She stared at him a long time.

It wasn't hard to understand. It hadn't been hard last night, either. He was hurting, he was grieving. He was losing his brother. And she'd been there – there to use, to comfort, to make him feel anything but pain.

And at the time, it hadn't mattered. Now, it mattered a lot.

As she stood there in her rumpled, day-old clothes, watching him ignore her, Sam's cell phone rang.

"Hello?" he answered too eagerly.

A pause.

"Yeah, this is John's kid. Sam. You're Joshua?"

Another pause.

"Thanks for getting back to me… Yeah, Dean. It's bad… Where?"

Lynn waited out the other man's answer, staring at Sam's profile.

"Nebraska. OK… Roy Le Grange… got it. Thank you so much. If you ever need anything… well, still… thank you."

He hung up.

"Who was that?" Lynn asked.

Sam glanced momentarily in her direction. "Joshua. Old hunting buddy of my Dad's."

"Oh."

Long silence.

"What did he say?"

"Oh, uh…" Sam looked up from his computer, finally looking her in the eye. He smiled, but it was an awkward, forced sort of smile. "He gave me the name of a faith healer out in Nebraska. Roy Le Grange."

Lynn frowned. "Faith healer?"

"Yeah, I know," Sam shrugged. "But Joshua says he's supposed to be the real deal, so… well, we got to try everything, you know?"

He was still giving her that awkward, not completely sincere smile. She nodded at him, forcing herself to smile back.

"Right," she agreed. "That's great, Sam. I'm glad that… I'm glad."

He nodded, and then looked back at his computer.

"You should probably, uh… you should probably go to your room," he announced. "You know, uh… get changed and everything. We'll leave soon."

She stared at his back. "Right."

He said nothing else. He didn't turn around.

"Fine," she added.

Then she marched out of the room and slammed the door.

* * *

Dean stood up, wincing as he went, and reached for his jeans.

"I really wish you'd reconsider, Mr. Burkovitz," the small blonde nurse was saying as he pulled on his pants, one leg at a time.

"Yeah, yeah," he waved her off, fastening the fly and then tearing off the hospital gown. He couldn't help but smirk as he felt the nurse's eyes travel up and down his exposed chest. "That's what the doc said, but I don't really see the point in sticking around, do you? I mean, here or home, I'm dead meat right?"

The nurse's lips puckered up and she looked sternly at the floor. Before either Dean or the nurse could say anything else, footsteps echoed out in the hall. Jayne stepped inside the room, looking tired from sleeping in a chair all night, and holding a cup of joe. When she saw him standing, her eyes narrowed into a classic, steely Jayne glare.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped.

"Oh, good," the nurse murmured. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

"I'm checking myself out," Dean answered Jayne, ignoring the other woman. "I'm tired of this crap hole and the prison mush they call food. Get the car, Goldilocks."

He winked at her. The glower deepened. She stomped across the room, slammed the coffee down on the bedside table, and crossed her arms threateningly over her chest.

"Get your ass back in that bed."

He smirked. "Make me."

"Aww. Look at you; Trying to play tough guy when you're half dead and you look it. Get in bed, Dean; I'm not playing."

"Neither I am," he returned, serious now. He leaned over, his face inches from hers. "I'm getting out of here. You can either help me, or get out of my way."

Her lips moved as though she planned on a retort, but nothing came out. She looked down at his chest as though noticing for the first time he was shirtless. Then she looked back up at him, frowning.

He smirked again. "Checking me out, Goldilocks?"

She smirked back. "You're shaking like a virgin."

The cocky grin was wiped instantly from his face.

She snatched his shirt off the bed and shoved it into his chest. "Put some clothes on, invalid."

He glared at her, but did as commanded. It was cold in that room, and like it or not, he was starting to quiver.

"You're not really letting him check out, are you?" the nurse asked nervously from the corner she was still standing in, almost forgotten by the two hunters.

Jayne looked hard over her shoulder at the tiny woman. "Get the damn papers."

The nurse blinked, pursed her lips again, and then shook her head, marching out the door.

Dean smiled – and regretted it the moment Jayne's eyes returned to his. She glowered at him as his smile faded, stepping even closer to him. Their chests were almost touching, and Dean swallowed noticeably.

"You damn fool," she spat.

He blinked.

"You're just determined to kill yourself, aren't you?"

Dean gave a short, bitter chuckle. "News flash, Jayne: already dying."

"Not if I can help it."

"You're as bad as Sam," he snapped. "You think I want to die? You think there aren't a million things I still want to do before I kick it? But none of that matters – it's too late! I'm going to die! And not you, not Sam, not anyone can stop it!"

Silence followed. She was still glaring. Dean glared back.

He caught the slight, almost unnoticeable tremble of the lower lip – the tremble that didn't match the steely glint to those storm cloud eyes. She'd drawn herself up to her full height, top of her head level with the bridge of his nose.

He felt his hands shake. She didn't want to hear it, Sam didn't want to hear it… but that didn't make it a lie. He was dying. They couldn't stop it.

And he only had a month left. One month to do all the stupid, crazy things he hadn't gotten around to yet.

Well, he could check number one off the bucket list right then and there.

He grabbed her arms and pulled her closer to him. She stumbled into his chest and nearly knocked him down. Then he planted one on her, good and hard and right on the lips.

He heard her sharp, startled intake of breath. She tensed under his hands, against his lips. Then, slowly, giving a little a bit at a time, her lips pushed back against his, her hands found his arms. He pressed harder, and she returned the increase.

He'd meant it to be a short kiss. But it turned into a long one, a little too deep and a little too powerful. When they finally separated, he was breathless. So was she.

They stared at one another for what felt like years. Slowly, tentatively, shaking all the way, her hand rose up and up, and then finally her fingers rested against her slightly open mouth. "Why did you do that?" she whispered.

Dean tried to smirk at her, but it was a shaky, unsuccessful smirk. "Well, you know," he returned, whispering as well. "Dying and all. Figured I give it a go."

She frowned, fingers still on her lips. Her eyes were focused unseeingly at a random point on his plain tee shirt. "So, what then?" she asked. "You're just going to go around kissing every woman who crosses your path over the next month?"

He tried to smirk again. "Well… just the tall, pretty blonde ones."

Finally she looked at him. Really looked at him – full on eye contact. Her hand fell away from her mouth.

"I'm going to go check on the paperwork," she told him. Then she turned and left the room.

He stood there, alone, staring at the empty doorway.

* * *

Jayne hopped down from the cab of her pickup and headed round to the passenger's side door, opening it before Dean could even grasp the door handle.

He glared at her as she took his arm, helping him down from the cab. "I'm fine," he snapped at her.

"No, you're not," she returned smoothly, steadying him on his feet as she shut the truck door.

"Oh, I'm not?"

"Nope," she said, pulling back ever so slightly to look him in the eye. "You're not fine. You just checked yourself out of the hospital against the doctor's advice three days after having a massive heart attack. To say you are fine defies all logic."

He glared at her. Jayne didn't give a damn. That man was doing his best to send himself to the grave a month early and it was driving her nuts.

If he thought he was dying on her watch, then he obviously didn't know her as well as he thought. She was going to force him to accept her help whether he liked it or not.

She wrapped an arm around his waist and then draped his arm over her shoulders. He groaned. "Are you freaking kidding me?"

"Do you want to go back to the hospital?" she snapped. "So help me god, I'll send you there."

He muttered something under his breath, but fell quiet and let her help him to the door. When they reached Sam's motel room, Jayne knocked and the two waited for him to answer in irritated silence.

The door opened. Sam stared at the two of them, eyes wide. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Jayne looked at Dean. "You want to field that one?"

Dean didn't look even remotely abashed. He smirked at his little brother. "Checked myself out. I'm not going to die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot."

Sam looked at Jayne. "You let him do this?"

She fixed Sam with a stony glare. "Your brother is very obstinate."

Dean frowned at her. "Obstinate?"

Sam sighed heavily, opening the door wider. "Just get inside."

With Dean on her shoulder, she struggled on in through the door, heading straight for the chair under the window. She deposited him in the chair, straightened him out… she wasn't fussing at all, no matter how it might look, despite all Dean's protests…

"You get any sleep?" Dean asked his brother as Jayne stood up, stepping away from him. "You look worse than me."

Sam shook his head. "You know this whole laugh in the face of death thing? It's crap. I can see right through it."

"Yeah, whatever, dude."

"Where's Lynn?" Jayne demanded, interrupting the exchange before it evolved into sibling warfare.

Sam glanced at her briefly – almost guiltily, Jayne decided. "Uh… in her room. Changing. We were actually going to come get you two later today."

"Yeah?" Dean asked. "Why's that?"

"Well, we've been scouring the internet while you were in the hospital," Sam explained. "I called just about every contact in Dad's journal and then some… one guy called back, someone named Joshua. He gave me the name of a specialist out in Nebraska. Said this guy might be able to help."

"Specialist, huh?" Dean snorted. "You're just not going to let me die in peace, are you?"

Sam looked him dead in the eye. "I'm not going to let you die period."

The two brothers fell silent, and Jayne began to feel awkward standing in the room with them. She had also felt awkward sitting in her truck with Dean the whole way to the motel… she had even felt awkward helping him inside…

It was his own damn fault. What did he have to go and kiss her for anyway?

Dean was her _friend_. Probably one of the best friends she'd ever had when she got right down to it. And it simply wasn't fair to kiss her like that, not when he could be dead in a month, not when she was still trying to figure out how to say goodbye…

"Which room is Lynn in?" Jayne asked.

Sam looked up at her. "105."

"Thanks."

Jayne headed for the door.

"Going so soon, Goldilocks?" Dean drawled sarcastically.

She froze at the threshold and glared at him. The smirk faded from his face.

"We're headed for Nebraska today, right Sam?" she asked.

Sam nodded. "That was the plan."

She nodded back. "Good."

Then she was out, into the freedom of the chilly spring air, running towards the safe haven that was her sister's motel room.

* * *

Lynn stepped out of the shower, wrapping a motel towel around her middle.

She wiped steam off the mirror and stared at herself, trying to understand what was wrong with her.

Deep down, under level after level of insecurity, Lynn knew the real reason Sam was treating her so shitty was because he felt guilty. He'd been so upset the night before, he had craved her comfort and her sex, and now that it was over, he felt as though he'd betrayed his older brother.

Still, it hurt. It made her feel undesirable, not pretty, not good enough.

Sighing heavily, she reached for a bottle of hair gel and started working the cold pink globs through her damp hair.

"Hey, Deedee."

Lynn jumped at the voice in the next room, but relaxed almost instantly when she recognized it as Jayne's. Her stepsister had come home from the hospital. Lynn wondered briefly whether she'd brought Dean with her.

She listened to the murmured conversation on the other side of the bathroom door with half an ear, concentrating on first her hair gel and then her moisturizer.

"Mm-hmm," Jayne kept saying. "Right. And then?"

Finally, she said. "Ok, got it. Thanks, Deedee. Rufus home yet?"

Lynn was done and reaching for the doorknob when she heard her sister say, "Hey Rufus."

There was a pause. Lynn froze behind the door, leaning closer to hear.

"I know."

She knew? What did she know?

"Lynn got her hands on her mother's death certificate, and she was all kinds of pissed off. Screaming at me, accusing me of knowing… which would all be well and good if I had known. But I didn't. Her mother didn't die giving birth to her, Rufus?"

Another pause. Lynn's fingertips rested on the door, her breath shallow.

"Oh, you knew. I know you knew. You were Russ's best friend… if anyone knew, you did. And I'll tell you this much: I don't know what really happened to Inez Rodriguez, and I don't really want you to tell me. But I do want you to call Lynn and tell her what happened to her mother. She deserves to know."

After that there was silence. Jayne must have hung up. Lynn stood still by the bathroom door for a moment, absorbing what she had eavesdropped.

Then she opened the door and stepped into the room.

Jayne stood by the bed, rooting through her duffel bag. She looked up at her stepsister. "Hey," she said.

Lynn smiled softly. "Hey."

"I took Dean back here," Jayne explained. "Sam said something about a specialist in Nebraska?"

"Faith healer," Lynn corrected. "But don't tell Dean that."

Jayne frowned. She snorted. "Faith healer?"

Lynn shrugged. "When you're desperate…"

Her sister nodded. "Yeah."

Jayne looked troubled. But all Lynn could focus on was what she'd overheard, the demands Jayne had made of Rufus… her doubts about her stepsister vanished. For a while she stood by the bathroom, staring at her stepsister, watching her take some clothes from her duffel. Finally Jayne snatched up the chosen items and headed for the bathroom.

"I'll be quick. Just got to wash all the hospital off me."

Lynn smiled at her. "Ok."

Jayne half shut the door and then stopped, looking back at her. "You all right?"

Lynn nodded. "Yeah. Fine."

Her sister studied her a moment longer. "You sure? You seem kind of… I don't know. Strange?"

"I'm fine."

"Ok then."

Jayne shut the door.

Lynn smiled again.

There was always one person she could count on.

She crossed the room towards her own duffel. The shower turned on in the bathroom. Lynn began pulling on fresh clothing.

When her eyes fell on the sheet of paper by Jayne's abandoned cell phone, she did not intend to read it. But her gaze passed over the list and the top line tripped her up.

_Graveyard dirt…_

Lynn froze. She picked up the paper, frowning at what Jayne had written.

_Black cat bone…_

_Picture of self…_

The shower was still running. Lynn glanced nervously at the bathroom door and then bent over her laptop, typing the list in the Google search bar.

_Summoning Ritual…_

_Crossroads demon…_

Lynn stared at the screen. She looked back at the bathroom door. She let the list fall back to the tabletop.

Suddenly, she regretted snooping. She'd just uncovered something that maybe she didn't want to know.

* * *

Sam stepped out of the Impala, foot squishing in the mud beneath the old car. The rumble of Jayne's old truck roared in his ears until she parked behind him and shut down the ignition.

They'd come to a large field outside an aging farmhouse. In this field were several parked cars and a congregation of believers flocking towards a large white tent.

Jayne and Lynn hopped down from the truck cab. He saw Jayne take swift steps towards the passenger side of the Impala just as Dean swung his door open.

Sam hurried around the front bumper as Dean struggled to climb out of the car, but Jayne got there first, grabbing his arm in a move to support him. He was shaky, but he shoved her off anyway.

"I'm fine," he snapped. "Get off me."

He headed towards the tent. Sam glanced at Jayne, who he found staring after Dean, half worried and half exasperated.

"He says as he keels over face first in the mud!" she bellowed after him.

Dean shot her a dirty look over his shoulder.

Sam shook his head, sent sympathetic, understanding eyes Jayne's way, and then hastened after his brother. He passed by Lynn, and she looked at him. Sam glanced her way, gave her a quick, nervous smile, and then kept on moving, eyes instantly turning from hers.

He knew he was being an asshole right now, but he couldn't help it. He reached his brother's side and kept his eyes straight ahead, never turning around. The other two hunters followed close behind the Winchesters. Sam could hear the two women murmuring to one another under their breath in tones that he was unable to decode.

"Man, you're a lying bastard," Dean spat as they approached the tent, passing the wooden sign with Roy Le Grange's name painted on it. "You said we were going to see a doctor."

"I believe I said specialist," Sam returned smoothly. "Look, he's supposed to be the real deal."

"I can't believe you brought me to see some guy who heals people out of a tent!"

A warbling old lady voice sounded from behind them: "Reverend Le Grange is a great man!"

"Yeah, that's nice," Dean retorted.

Next they passed a young man hollering at a police officer who was trying to escort him away from the tent. "I have a right to protest! This man is a fraud! He's bilking all these people out of their hard earned money!"

"This is a place of worship," the officer returned. "Come on, let's go…"

"I take it he's not one of the flock," Dean commented dryly as they drew nearer to the tent.

Sam shrugged. "When people see something they can't explain, there's controversy."

"But come on Sam, a faith healer?"

"Maybe it's time to have a little faith, Dean."

"You want to know what I have faith in? Reality. Knowing what's real."

"How can you be a skeptic? With the things we see every day?"

"Exactly! We _see_ them. We know they're real!"

Sam shook his head disbelievingly. He looked at Jayne and Lynn for help. Neither of them made eye contact. "But if you know evil is out there, how can you not believe good is out there too?"

"Because I've seen what evil does to good people."

"Maybe God works in mysterious ways."

Sam whirled around at the new voice. His brother did the same. Sam had half expected the voice to belong to Lynn, or to Jayne. So far, they had kept out of the rather loud, escalating argument.

But the woman standing before them was not Lynn and she was not Jayne. She was a young, blonde woman, rather pretty, with a blue tweed coat and a knee length skirt. She stood before them, smiling, her head covered by a black umbrella.

Dean grinned. "Maybe he does."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"I think you just turned me around on the subject," Dean went on, still grinning at the young woman.

She chuckled. "I'm sure."

"Ignore him," Lynn announced, stepping out from behind the two brothers. "Most of that cocky, frat boy attitude is just for show. He only half believes it… we hope."

Sam laughed in spite of himself and his decision to ignore Lynn… well, not really ignore. More like… distance himself for an undetermined period of time.

"I'm Lynn," she introduced herself, shaking the other woman's hand. "This is my stepsister, Jayne."

Sam looked over his shoulder at the other blonde in the company, noting how Jayne did not come out from behind him and his brother, did not extend her hand for shaking. She merely nodded at the other woman, grunted a "Nice to meet you."

"This is Sam," Lynn nodded at Sam. "And the frat boy is Dean."

"Hi," Dean winked. Sam shook his head yet again, never failing to be amazed at his brother's complete lack of shame.

"I'm Layla," the young woman introduced herself, smiling. She tilted her head curiously at Dean. "So… if you're not a believer, then why are you here?"

Dean smirked. "Well… apparently my brother here believes enough for the both of us."

Before Layla could reply, an older version of herself arrived at her side. "Come on Layla, it's about to start."

Layla smiled at the four hunters, murmured a good-bye, and then headed inside the tent with the woman who must have been her mother.

"I'll bet she could work in some mysterious ways," Dean commented, watching Layla walk away.

Sam shook his head at his brother, a chuckle escaping his throat despite his disapproval.

"Too bad you'll never find out," Jayne retorted. "Sex would kill a man in your condition."

Dean glared at her. She walked on ahead of them into the tent, taking a seat in the back.

There were chairs available in the back and Dean moved towards them, attempting to sit down next to Jayne. Sam hauled him back. "We're sitting up front," he told his brother.

Dean groaned. "Oh, come on, Sam…"

Sam yanked him down the aisle, steadying hands on his brother's shoulders. "Are you all right?"

"This is ridiculous. Dude, get off me."

Dean shrugged his shoulders violently and Sam instantly let go. There were two seats in the second row, and Sam pushed his brother towards them. "Here," he announced. "Perfect."

"Yeah, perfect," Dean grumbled as the two of them took their seats. He sat low in the chair, sulking.

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Jayne and Lynn, still sitting in the back row. Lynn had her arms folded over her chest, and she was determinedly staring straight ahead, eyes on the preacher's pulpit. Sam watched her for a little while, but she willfully ignored him.

He deserved that. He knew he did.

Jayne's eyes were fixed on the back of Dean's head. For all her surliness and dry comments and intolerance of Dean's devil-may-care attitude, she was worried about him. Anyone could see that.

Sam just hoped Dean could see it, or Dean might do something insensitive… like hit on the first attractive girl to glance his way.

His brother was a moron.

Then again, maybe Sam wasn't much smarter.

The preacher was a short, stout old man with thinning gray hair. He had on dark sunglasses, which Sam assumed meant he was blind. He stood up in front of the mass in a short-sleeved dress shirt, and addressed his congregation.

"Each morning my wife Sue Ann reads me the news," Roy Le Grange announced. "Never seems good, does it?"

There was a murmur of agreement from the audience.

"Seems like there's always someone committing some immoral, unspeakable act," the reverend went on.

The mumble of assent rumbled through the crowd once again.

"But I say to you, God is watching!"

_Yes, he is!_

"He rewards the good, and he punishes the corrupt."

_Amen!_

"It is the Lord who does the healing here, friends! It is the Lord who guides me in choosing who to heal, by helping me see into people's hearts."

_Amen!_

"Yeah," Dean grumbled into Sam's ear. "And right into their wallets."

A hush fell.

"You think so, young man?" Roy asked.

Sam cringed. No way was this man healing his brother now.

"Sorry," Dean apologized, glancing around awkwardly.

Well, at least he _almost_ sounded sincere.

"No, no. Don't be. Just watch what you say around a blind man – we've got real sharp ears."

Chuckles rippled through the congregation. Even Dean managed a grin.

"What's your name, son?"

Dean glanced around him. Sam urged him to answer with nothing but his eyes. "Dean," his brother called out.

"Dean," the reverend repeated. "I want you to come up here with me."

Applause broke out among the worshippers.

"Ah… no… that's ok."

The big, goofy smile that had been stretching the corners of Sam's mouth fell away as his brother's refusal rang out in the tent. "What are you doing?" he hissed at Dean.

"You've come here to be healed, haven't you?" Roy asked.

"Well… yeah, but…"

More applause. Dean raised his voice.

"Maybe… maybe you should just pick someone else."

Roy chuckled.

"I didn't pick you, Dean, the Lord did!"

Dean still looked hesitant. He glanced over his shoulder and Sam followed his eyes.

Jayne pointed menacingly at him from the back of the room, and then gestured at the stage.

Dean rose slowly, glancing back at Sam.

"Get up there!" Sam ordered behind clenched teeth.

And Dean went. Slowly, reluctantly, uncertainly, he went down the aisle and up onto the stage, where he stood beside the blind preacher man.

"You ready?" Roy asked.

"Look, uh, no offense…" Dean murmured. "But… I'm not exactly a believer."

Roy chuckled again. "You will be, son. You will be."

The two turned to face the congregation. Roy lifted his hands in the air. "Pray with me friends!"

All around the room, believers got to their feet and joined hands high above their heads. Roy's hand found Dean's shoulder, feeling its way up his neck and onto the side of his head.

"All right," Roy said. "All right now."

As Sam watched, Dean's eyelids began to flutter. Both hope and anxiety twisted in his gut as he watched Dean's eyes slowly close, his head tilting to the side.

His brother's knees gave, and slowly, like a rag doll, his brother crumpled to the stage, collapsing flat on his back.

Roy lifted his hands and the crowd began to cheer and applaud.

"Dean!" Sam bellowed.

He was on his feet, racing for the stage, hitting the ground on his knees beside his prostrate older brother. He heard, distantly, the startled cry of a woman, the pounding of heavy boots coming up behind him.

"Dean!" Sam called, shaking his brother by the front of his jacket.

And then someone was kneeling beside him. Long white fingers grabbed his brother by the chin. "Dean!"

Sam glanced at Jayne for a brief second, too concerned about his brother to pay her much mind. Dean's eyes flew open, and he lifted his head slightly, gasping for air.

"Say something!" Sam demanded, shouting to be heard over the uproar from the audience.

"Dean?" Jayne asked from beside him. "Are you all right?"

Sam watched his brother's blinking, confused eyes travel from first his face, to Jayne's face, and then behind her. He frowned down at Dean, noting Jayne's baffled glance over her shoulder.

"Dean!" Sam shouted again, his brother's wide-eyed, panicked expression jarring him to his very core.

Dean lay still on the ground, his eyes wandering around the room. "I'm fine," he said. "I'm fine."

Dean's hand found Jayne's hand, the one still cupping his face. Sam watched as their hands closed around one another, confused at the sight but too worried to dwell.

He helped his brother sit up, observing the way Dean's hand stay joined with Jayne's, how her other hand rested gently, comfortingly, on his shoulder. "The Lord is in this tent, my friends!" Roy was bellowing over the noise his worshippers were making. "He is here, and he is watching!"

And then, in a low tone, so low that Sam was sure only he and Jayne could hear it, Dean murmured, "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

* * *

Dean sat on the edge of the stage, getting his breath back. The reverend hollered at his congregation, and they hollered back, praising him and the Lord, throwing their hands in the air.

He watched the display with disbelieving eyes, taking in the surreal, pagan quality of the worshippers praising God before him. Sam was talking to a crowd of worshippers nearby the stage, looking like a scared, confused deer, surrounded by a pack of starving wolves.

Lynn was fading into the back wall of the tent, every once in a while sparing a glance at Sam. The worshippers soon moved, obstructing his view of her.

Jayne stood stalwart by his side, staring out at the mass with her arms folded threateningly over her chest. Her eyes moved from one face to the next, as though searching for demons hidden in the bodies of the righteous.

He stared at her. She must have felt his eyes, because she turned to him and caught his eye.

A long moment passed.

"Want to get out of here?" she asked.

He stared a second longer. A painful grin twitched at his tired lips. "Oh boy, do I."

She held out her hand, and he took it, letting her haul him to his feet. She wrapped an arm around his waist, leading him out the back. Dean would never tell her, but her warmth, her steady arm… he didn't mind them at all. At the moment, he craved them.

They passed through the white tent flaps, across the muddy parking lot, to the back of her truck, where she deposited him; let him sit on the lowered door of the bed. She stood there before him, boot poking at small stones, eyes on the ground.

"How do you feel?" she asked without looking at him.

Dean stared at her until she looked up at him and met his eyes.

That felt better.

He shrugged. "Not sure, really."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged again.

She folded her arms over her chest once more, her eyes going mean. "Quit shrugging at me, you asshole. Are you all right, or are you dying?"

"I'm fine!" he snapped. "I just… I don't know. I feel… weird."

"Weird how?"

"I… I don't know."

"You don't know?" she retorted, bending over and making hard eye contact. "What do you mean, you don't know? You're feeling it!"

He didn't respond. Her exasperation grew. "Seriously, Dean – we talking chest pain, tingling sensation in your left arm weird? You having another heart attack or something? Goddamn it, give me something better to go on!"

Dean looked at her. She was close to yelling, and she sounded angry, but there was no fury on her face. Her brows were knitted together in worry, and her eyes skipped side to side, frantic. Again, that lip trembled ever so slightly.

He smirked. "Gee, Goldilocks. I didn't know you cared."

She hit him in the arm. He winced. "Ow," he said, glaring. "Nice way to treat the sick, you madwoman."

"You listen to me, you bull-spinning, tough-talking, insensitive bastard," she barked at him. "I ain't got faith in much except what my own two eyes see, and I'm telling you right now that I saw some freaky shit go down in that tent. I saw your eyes roll back in your damn fool head, and I saw you pass out cold. Now you going to sit here and tell me you feel weird? I don't know what happened in there – I don't know what that man did – but I know I don't want you to die. So you tell me right now what's wrong with you, or so help me god Dean, I will kick you in the head and drag your unconscious butt into the nearest hospital."

He stared at her. She glared at him.

Dean swallowed, looking at the mud. "I feel… better."

Jayne stared at him a long time.

"You feel… better?"

He nodded.

She hit him again.

"What the hell, woman?" he exclaimed. "You hit me one more time…"

"You feel _better_?" she interrupted him fiercely. "Why didn't you just say that, you jerk? You scared the living hell out of me!"

The admission effectively silenced him.

"If you feel better," she pressed. "Then why the hell do you look so spooked?"

Dean shrugged, eyes still boring into the brown earth. "Dean," she insisted.

"I feel better," he murmured. "But it feels wrong."

She didn't say anything for a long time after that. He didn't bother to explain. He didn't even look up from the mud.

"I saw…" he swallowed, starting again. "I saw a man."

"A man?"

"Yeah. Behind you. An old man in a black suit… some kind of spirit or something…"

He trailed off. She kept on staring at him.

"He shouldn't have been there," Dean finally said.

Long silence.

"No," she murmured after a while. "I suppose he shouldn't have been."

"You got to help me figure this out," he told her. "We have to know how Roy… what he…"

"Hold your horses," she cut him off. "First we got to figure out if he did anything."

"I told you, I feel better!"

"Yeah, well that doesn't mean a whole lot to me right now! First we got to get you to a doctor or something, find out if you're really cured…"

"Fine," he agreed, tone stony. "Then we'll do that. But if I am cured… Jaynie, you got to help me figure out what happened. If Roy did something… if he…"

"Why?" she asked in a whisper.

He blinked at her.

"What do you mean, why?"

Jayne shook her head. "Does it even matter, Dean? If you're better…"

"If I'm better because that man did something… something evil… then I need to know," Dean snapped. "I can't let him keep doing what he's been doing if it's something wrong. You know that."

"Do I?"

"Jayne…"

"Look, all I wanted was for you to get better," she told him. "That's it. And…"

She trailed off. He frowned at her.

"And what?"

But she didn't answer him. She shook her head and looked at the ground, teeth worrying her bottom lip. There was fear in her eyes. She was afraid to finish the sentence, afraid to tell him what she thought.

"If you need to know," she said finally. "Then we'll figure it out."

He stared at her. There was something a little frightening in her eyes, something he didn't know if he liked. Something that made him nervous… something that made him… guilty.

But then Sam and Lynn were making their way out of the white tent, marching across the mud, coming for them. And there was no more time to pick apart what frightened him, to find out what frightened her.

He sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, letting Sam drive, glancing in the right side mirror at the gray truck behind them.

Sam was suggesting they stop at a motel, hit a clinic the next morning to find out if his heart was all right. All Dean could do was nod numbly.

"Are you all right?" Sam kept asking. "You said you felt better…"

"I'm fine!" Dean finally bellowed.

And then there was silence. Dean was left to his thoughts.

* * *

Sam did not want to be at the gym where Marshall Hall had run his last lap.

He did not want to be standing before the tall, muscular trainer. He did not want to be asking questions about Marshall Hall's heart attack.

He did not want to see the clock frozen at 4:17, the time that Hall's heart had stopped.

The time that Dean's heart damage had miraculously disappeared.

But when the doctor had given them the good news – that Dean's heart was healthy once again – and then told them that the day before – the day Dean was healed – a young man, not much older than the oldest Winchester, had died of a heart attack, Dean had demanded they investigate. He was so sure that Roy Le Grange had done something awful, that his healing hand had hurt someone else while curing Dean…

Sam still didn't want to know. He didn't want to be in Nebraska anymore. He wanted to forget the name Marshall Hall and the name Roy Le Grange and just be grateful that Dean was alive and well.

But they couldn't do that. Because Marshall Hall… he'd died to save Dean. As much as Sam didn't want to know that, didn't want to admit that, there was no way to deny that. And no man should be allowed to trade one person's life for another's.

When Dean found out, he would be furious. Sam was almost afraid of what Dean might do. And Sam…

Sam had never felt so guilty in his entire life. Not in the days that followed Jessica's death, not in the motel bed with Lynn two nights ago, not when he'd gone to college and left his family behind…

This was the worst thing he had ever done.

* * *

Jayne watched the front of Roy's farmhouse, arms folded over her chest, feet propped up on the dashboard of Dean's Impala.

She still wasn't sure about letting Sam drive Janis, but when she considered the other two options… Lynn or Dean… she decided she'd chosen the lesser of three evils. At least Sam could drive.

Sam was at the gym where Marshall Hall had lost his life. Jayne was waiting for Dean to come out of the farmhouse she was parked in front of, waiting to hear what words he exchanged with Roy.

He'd insisted on coming here, to talk to the preacher. He'd insisted that something was wrong with the way he was healed, that something was wrong with Roy's entire operation.

Jayne had just been so relieved that he wasn't going to die that, to be honest, she didn't really care how wrong Roy's operation might be.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the seat. That was a horrible thought.

What if there was something sick, something twisted about Roy's little faith healing gig? What if they had dragged Dean out to Nebraska to save his life… and had hurt someone else while they were at it?

Whoever this Marshall Hall was, he was dead now. Dead the same way Dean was supposed to be by the end of the month. Dead on the day Dean had been healed.

Dean… dead… not an option.

She knew the cards were stacked against them. She knew that whatever they'd stumbled upon out here on the plains, it was something wrong and dirty… and not in a fun way.

She knew they had to stop Roy.

And yet, not one part of her felt remorse.

She knew she should feel guilty. She knew she should be angry with herself, with Sam. She knew she should not be sitting here, trying to talk herself into feeling these things that, for some reason, she simply could not feel.

Dean was alive. He was going to live a full life – well, as full a life as people like them could live. And no matter what they found out, what they discovered, what she was supposed to feel… the only thing she could feel was happy.

Happy that the one friend she had in this world, as much as he'd been pissing her off, was not going to die a young man.

She considered the price they'd paid to keep Dean alive. She was afraid to consider what price she might have paid if Roy's faith-healing hands hadn't worked.

That ritual was still tucked inside her wallet, in the back pocket of her jeans, burning a hole.

She frightened herself.

And yesterday, in the bed of her truck, outside the great white tent, she believed she might have frightened Dean.

"Do you think Roy really is responsible for Marshall's death?"

Jayne jumped. She'd nearly forgotten that Lynn was in the Impala with her, stretched out across the back seat. For reasons unknown, the girl hadn't wanted to accompany Sam to the gym. She'd wanted to come out to the farmhouse with Jayne and Dean.

Which was very weird. Much weirder than the amazing healing Roy Le Grange.

She shrugged. "Don't know. Kind of don't care."

The 'don't care' part slipped out before she could stop herself.

"You don't mean that, Jaynie."

Her stepsister's sweet, gentle tone did not conceal the panic – the fear that Jayne did mean it.

Jayne sighed. "So what if he is? Dean's alive – that's what's important. If Roy's a bad guy – we'll chalk this up to good luck under unfortunate terms and put the bastard down."

"Good luck under unfortunate terms?"

Her sister sounded incredulous. Jayne chanced a glance over her shoulder into the rear seat. Lynn was staring at her, shocked.

Jayne sighed again. "What are you doing here, anyway?" she asked, changing the subject. "Shouldn't you be palling around with your BFF, Sam Winchester?"

Lynn crossed her arms petulantly over her chest, leaning back against the window. "I don't see why the two of us suddenly need to be attached at the hip."

Jayne snorted. "Oh, yeah. Because prior to this, you two _weren't_ attached at the hip. Right."

Lynn sighed this time. "Maybe I just wanted to spend some time with my sister."

"Bull shit," Jayne retorted. "You spend nothing but time with me. What did the idiot do?"

Her stepsister trained her eyes on the ceiling. "I don't know if I want to say."

"Oh my god," Jayne groaned, making a face. "You had sex with him, didn't you?"

"No!"

Jayne just looked at her.

Lynn sighed, fidgeting with her sweatshirt. "Maybe."

"When?"

Lynn shrugged, looking at the ceiling again. "Um… uh… maybe… two nights ago?"

"When Dean was in the hospital?"

"Well, yeah," Lynn returned defensively. "So what? Sam was upset, ok? He was… he was hurting. He was worried. He was all… panicky."

Jayne frowned at her stepsister. "Yeah. I know."

"So it wasn't wrong," Lynn pushed on. "It wasn't. We weren't being insensitive. We researched for nearly six hours before anything happened!"

Jayne stared at her stepsister, not sure why she was being so defensive. "Ok," she said.

"He needed comforting," Lynn kept going. "He needed… something to keep his mind off all the bull shit. I gave him that."

"Lynn," Jayne murmured. "You don't have to explain to me. I'm not judging you. It's really all right."

"But maybe it's not," Lynn half moaned. "I… I wanted comforting too, Jaynie. All I could think about was my mom, and… and the death certificate, and…"

"It's ok," Jayne insisted. "Really. I'm the last person to pull the moral high ground with you."

"Well, I don't know if Sam agrees with you," Lynn muttered. "He's barely spoken to me since. He hardly looks at me!"

Jayne stared at Lynn. She watched her sister's lip tremble. Her big dark eyes were getting watery.

"I'll kill him."

"Jaynie, don't…"

"You know, I always thought Dean was the asshole playboy, but if Sam's going to treat _my_ sister like that…"

"Please don't be macho, overprotective big sister right now!" Lynn pleaded. "Sam and I… we need to work things out amongst ourselves."

Silence.

"Fine," Jayne conceded.

"Thanks."

Another silence.

"But if you decide you want me to kill him… just say the word."

"Right. Filing that away."

They lapsed into silence again.

"Speaking of the moral high ground…"

Jayne perked up at her sister's words, frowning in confusion as she looked back over her shoulder.

"What about it?"

Lynn looked her right in the eye. "If Roy hadn't healed Dean… what were you planning on doing, Jayne?"

Jayne fidgeted under Lynn's hard look. "I don't know."

"Cut the crap, Jaynie," Lynn snapped. "I saw the list Deedee gave you."

Jayne went livid. "_What_?"

"You left it on the table!"

"So that means it's ok to snoop through my shit?!"

"Don't you dare get all preachy on me," Lynn bit out, eyes flashing. "Graveyard dirt, Jaynie? Black cat bones? That's the summoning ritual for the crossroads demon!"

Jayne stared determinedly out the windshield, arms wrapped around her torso. "So?"

"_So?!_" Lynn exploded. "The crossroads, Jaynie? Where deals are made?"

Jayne didn't say anything.

Lynn sat up straight in the backseat and leaned towards her sister's ear. "Were you going to sell your soul?" she hissed.

"No!" Jayne shouted. "Of course not! I had a plan!"

"Oh?" Lynn asked. Slowly. Sarcastically. Bitterly. "You had a _plan_?"

"Yeah," Jayne retorted. "I had a plan."

"And what was this genius plan of yours?"

"I… I was going to… I was going to trade something else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know!" Jayne snapped. "I hadn't got that far in the plan yet!"

Long silence.

"Are you in love with him?"

"What?" Jayne's jaw dropped. She stared at her sister in shock. "No! No, of course not! That's… that's just… gross."

Lynn stared at her. Jayne didn't care for it.

"He's my _friend_," she emphasized. "One of my best friends, actually. Maybe my only friend."

"I'm your friend."

"Yeah, but… you're my sister. It's not the same."

They were quiet a while.

"You're kind of scaring me, Jaynie."

Jayne sighed. "Yeah. Me too."

And again, there was silence.

She stared at the door to the Le Grange farmhouse. As she watched, she saw Layla Rourke approaching the house, her mother several paces behind her.

Jayne snorted. "Great."

"What?"

Lynn leaned into the front of the car once more, her head inches from Jayne's.

Jayne gestured at the Rourkes. "That blonde chippy again."

Her stepsister frowned at her. "Blonde chippy?"

"What?"

Lynn laughed.

Jayne glowered at her. "What is so funny?"

Lynn smiled, raising an eyebrow. "You're jealous."

For a moment, Jayne just stared at her stepsister. Lynn kept right on smirking.

"Shut up and get your head back on your side of the car," Jayne snapped.

Lynn did as commanded, but without losing the infuriating smirk. It was a cheap, hollow victory.

As Jayne watched Layla climb the front steps, Dean came out the door, followed closely by Sue Ann Le Grange.

For a while, the Rourkes and Dean talked. They were too far away to read lips or expressions, and Jayne felt a burning curiosity as she stared out the windshield, suddenly longing to know what they were talking about.

It was curiosity alone, however. There was no jealousy. Jayne was not jealous. She had no reason to be. Maybe Dean had given into a stupid impulse… a dying man's impulse… and kissed her, once. Maybe it had been a decent kiss, too. Whatever. She didn't really remember it all that well. She didn't care.

Dean was making his way towards the car now. Jayne watched him cross the mud, looking one way and then the other. He was frowning deep.

Something had gone wrong while he was talking with the Rourkes.

He opened the car door and slid behind the wheel. The door shut with a slam and he started the ignition without a word.

"What happened?" Jayne asked.

Dean froze with his hand on the gearshift.

"Layla Rourke has a brain tumor," he said tightly. "It's inoperable. And if we stop Roy, she's going to die."

Jayne stared at him. There was a sudden urge to stroke his hair.

She wished they'd left right after Roy had healed Dean.

She wished they hadn't had to look this one in the mouth.


	39. Don't Fear the Reaper

Who the Hell Are You?

Disclaimer: I don't own anything _Supernatural_. All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

Rating: T

AN: Big thank yous to kazza03, winchesterlover14, angeleyenc, hulahula551, legrowl, SingingInTheRain1989, Nelle07, ksirrah, Padme4000, Lov3good, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, Strangler000, marky deedee, ThreeMoons, 321K-Girl, M*YP,Spelllesswonder29, XVampiric-AngelX, angel, PushUpDasies, skm228, LaFemmeQuiRit, Joan J., and Penny for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 39: Don't Fear the Reaper

Lynn stared sightless at the tabletop, listening uninterestedly to the conversation around her.

It had all started when she and Jayne and Dean had returned from the Le Grange place. Sam had been waiting for them with bad news.

Marshall Hall was not the first person to die because of Roy. There had been many others before him, and the story was always the same.

One person was healed, another person died. Cause of death always fit exactly with whatever Roy had cured that day.

Now, the boys were arguing. Not loudly, not angrily… well, that was a lie. Dean was pretty angry. He was convinced he knew what they were dealing with.

A reaper.

"You really think it's _the_ reaper?" Sam had asked. "As in the angel of death?"

Then Dean had gone on a long rant about reaper lore, and how it was possible that there was more than one, and how only one thing could give and take away life like that, and how he was certain that they were dealing with a reaper… he just didn't know how Roy was controlling the damn thing.

Sam kept arguing. He was reluctant to believe. Lynn saw through that in an instant. Poor, angsty, guilt-ridden Sammy. Unable to do anything right. He was throwing himself a pity party. He was arguing in an attempt to clear his conscience.

She watched them argue, not once joining in. "You never should have brought me here," Dean kept saying.

Sam would look back down at his research, heartbroken.

Lynn did not miss Dean's own guilt, his own angst, his own pity party. She saw his desperation, saw his frustration… saw something that resembled self-loathing.

She saw Sam's inner conflict, saw Sam trying to justify what he did.

She saw Jayne, also sitting in silence, her eyes jumping from one Winchester to the other, always settling on Dean one second too long. Jayne tried to keep her face blank, but Lynn saw the struggle there. Jayne did not like this new development anymore than Sam. She too did not want to admit they had made a mistake.

In fact, Lynn had grave doubts that Jayne even saw this as a mistake, reapers and all.

That scared her. Jayne scared her. Jayne scared her more than Lynn liked to admit.

She watched the scene before her, removed, knowing all the inner turmoils and satisfactions of each party, and feeling only a strange, quiet desperation to be anywhere that wasn't there.

When her cell phone vibrated against her thigh, Lynn nearly fell to her knees and screamed, Hallelujah. She refrained, standing without explanation, and running into the hall.

Halfway to the parking lot, she answered the phone with a breathless, "Hello?"

"Lynn."

It was a man's voice. Gruff. He didn't so much speak her name as grunt.

"Rufus?"

Her voice caught. She knew what was coming.

"Yes, ma'am. How are you doing, little lady?"

Lynn made her way across the lot to Janis, hoisting herself up into the bed. "Well, to be honest, Rufus, I could be better."

She sat on the cold plastic bed liner. Rufus chuckled dryly. "Right."

There was a silence. "How did things go with that Winchester boy?" Rufus asked. "Deedee was telling me something about him dying? Hurt on a hunt, or something like that?"

Lynn swallowed. "Yeah. Electrocuted. He was hunting a rawhead in a damp basement."

"Way I hear it, Jaynie was fixing to cure him some way or another."

She took a deep breath, wondering why Rufus wouldn't just tell her what she wanted to know. "Right. Jaynie and Sam. You remember Sam."

"Oh, yeah. The beanstalk."

Lynn laughed softly despite everything. "Right. The beanstalk."

"You all find anything yet?"

"Sam found a faith healer out in Nebraska," Lynn replied. "The healer laid hands on Dean, and then… well, he was healed. Took him to a cardiologist and everything. They said he was fine."

"No kidding?"

"Yep. We were as surprised as you are."

Lynn didn't tell Rufus the faith healer's name. She didn't tell him about Marshall Hall, or Layla Rourke, or the reaper. These were things Rufus didn't need to know.

"Well, I am glad to hear that," Rufus rumbled. "Saw you and your stepsister were getting friendly with them boys. And, after all… rather took a liking to that Dean kid."

Lynn guffawed. She couldn't help herself. "You took a liking to Dean?"

"Seemed like a good sort."

"He beat up your son!"

"Yeah, well, Danny wasn't quite his self, was he? Those demons set him on Jaynie and all… had to be done. And after all, Lord knows my boy never had a lick of sense. Maybe he needed someone to beat a little into him."

"How is Danny?" Lynn asked. "How's his hunting going?"

Rufus was quiet.

"He's all right," he finally said. "Calls to check in about once a week. He's doing fine out there."

A pause.

"Haven't seen him in some time, though."

"I'm sorry."

"Can't be helped."

They didn't speak for a while and Lynn contemplated hanging up. She'd assumed Rufus had called to explain things. To tell her about her mother. Make good on Jayne's request. The last thing she'd expected was the older hunter to be checking in on Dean's current state of health.

"So, I spoke to your sister."

And here it was.

"She was hopping mad."

Lynn gave a short, quiet laugh. "She tends to get that way."

There was a long pause.

"Well… so you know."

There. It was out in the open.

"Yeah," Lynn said. "I know."

"How'd you find out?"

"I got my hands on her death certificate," Lynn explained. "Saw the cause and date of death. Noticed right away nothing matched up."

Rufus sighed. "I want you to know that keeping this? It wasn't my idea. It was all your daddy's."

"I figured as much," Lynn returned, trying to keep calm. "But why, Rufus? Why didn't Dad want me to know? How did my mother die?"

"I can't be real certain," Rufus told her. "Your daddy didn't give me all the details. All I know is that she was into something real bad, Lynn, and she was in deep. So deep that…"

He trailed off.

"What? Rufus?"

"It was a long fall," Rufus murmured. "A long fall out her apartment window. Back in Brooklyn."

He paused.

Lynn swallowed, hard.

"Might have been intentional. Might have been an accident. Might have been foul play. All I know is that whatever Inez was up to had your daddy spooked."

"But… but Jayne… she doesn't even remember Inez holding me, or…" Lynn swallowed again. "Where did I live for that year, Rufus?"

He didn't reply right away.

"Russ took you nearly as soon as you were born," he finally answered. "He'd just married Ana. He was kind of worried about how she would take it, but Ana wasn't that kind. She wanted you. She and Russ were alike in that respect. She would never have left you out in the cold, never have resented you for… you were a second daughter. Ana loved you the moment she laid eyes on you."

Lynn heard the silent truth under the pretty words. Rufus was making such a big deal out of Ana taking her in, out of Ana wanting her and loving her… Lynn heard the subtext.

Inez hadn't wanted her.

"Whatever your mama was into… it scared your daddy. It scared him bad. He didn't want you anywhere near it."

"What was it? Do you know what…?"

"Your daddy met Inez on a hunt," Rufus said. "He was investigating some hoodoo witch up in the Big Apple… I don't know, Lynn. It might have been connected to that."

Long pause.

"Hoodoo?"

"Yes, ma'am."

And just like that, Lynn was more confused now than back when she'd been clueless.

* * *

Here they were again, at the Big Top.

The sky was still overcast, and the ground was still nothing but mud. It wasn't raining though, and that might have been the upside.

The sick and the dying and the true believers were filing into that big white tent, single file, bundled up in raincoats and clutching emergency umbrellas. Jayne stepped down from Janis, squinting at the congregation.

"You going to be all right?" she asked the man beside her.

Dean too was watching the people gathered before them, his eyes roving from one face to the other. Jayne fixed her gaze on Dean's face, no longer interested in the worshippers – instead, in his tight jaw, his narrow eyes, his silence and his tense, tall frame.

He tried so hard not to let anyone see what he felt, not to let anyone recognize when he was in pain.

For someone who'd been hiding his feelings his whole life, he was absolutely terrible at it. Jayne could see how this hunt affected him without the slightest trouble.

"I'll get back to you on that," he said finally.

Jayne nodded once, eyes shifting towards the Impala, driven there separately by Dean and Sam. Lynn had already vacated the truck and was following Sam as he snuck off towards the farmhouse. The four of them had finally settled on a reasonable hypothesis and plan regarding Roy and his reaper, and they were now putting their plan into action. It had been Sam who had decided Roy was using black magic to bind the reaper, force it to do his bidding… black magic dating back to the beginnings of tarot and necromancy. They had to find his spell book, decide what spell he was using, find a way to break it…

They also had to prevent Roy from healing anyone else… thereby killing someone else. And since Lynn and Sam were heading to the farmhouse, intent on finding the spell book, that left the task of stalling the service to Dean and Jayne.

The two of them headed towards the tent. "How we going to do this?" she asked in a low voice.

Dean shrugged. "I have no idea."

"There are cops everywhere."

"Yeah. Thanks for the useless observation, Goldilocks."

She sighed harshly. "Sorry."

Neither of them said another word as they entered the tent. Jayne automatically reviewed her surroundings. Roy onstage, Sue Ann on his arm… weird cross thing that Sam had mentioned earlier as a tarot symbol sitting on the white cloaked table against the far left wall.

Layla Rourke tiptoeing around them on her way into the tent, her mother at her side.

Jayne closed her eyes, breathing out through her nose. Damn.

The blonde believer nodded a hello to the older Winchester, and Dean nodded back, a quick, nervous smile crossing his lips. Jayne frowned at the other woman's back as she picked her way through the flock, on her mother's arm, looking for a seat.

Damn that nice Christian girl. She'd fucked up everything.

Jayne glanced at Dean, found him looking around the tent nervously.

"You want to leave?" she asked suddenly.

He stared at her, incredulous.

"I'll stay," she was quick to say. "You can leave, and I'll stay. Stop the ceremony. I mean, what have I got to lose?"

"I don't have anything to lose," Dean retorted.

Which wasn't true, in any case. Jayne was well aware of what Dean had to lose. He didn't want to be responsible for Layla Rourke not getting her miracle cure. And hell, a man Roy had healed coming back to stop his healing ways for good? Well… it was kind of in bad taste.

But she didn't have that baggage – not really. Sure, she was conflicted, if pressed to admit it. She'd spent a lifetime saving the lives of innocent people, putting down the evil that came after those innocents…

This wasn't the same. This man, no matter what the circumstances, had saved Dean's life. He'd given her back the one real friend she'd ever had. And Jayne felt strange going after someone she was so grateful to.

She'd do it, though. She'd do it because Dean needed it to get done… and they'd all be better off if she was the bad guy. Then the nice, pretty blonde girl sitting in this stupid tent, the one with the sweet smile and the unshakeable faith in Jesus would glare at _her_. She would give _Jayne_ the disappointed eyes and the head shaking and the behind the hand comments.

And Jayne was much better equipped to handle that than Dean.

"If it's me…" she began, and then quickly stopped. How could she explain this?

"Then I didn't kill Layla Rourke?" Dean barked at her, barely maintaining his undertone.

Jayne winced. Dean rolled his eyes. The two of them glanced around the tent to make sure no one had heard them.

No one was even looking in their direction. Jayne turned her back on the congregation, swallowing a little, and forced herself to look Dean in the eye.

"Exactly," she said. "Don't pretend you don't like her."

He shook his head, obviously annoyed.

"Well, you do," Jayne pushed him. "You like her. You… respect her, or something. I don't really know what you feel about her exactly, but I do know it's going to kill you to pull the plug on the poor girl. So let me do it."

"No."

That was it. No. He wasn't even going to discuss it. Before Jayne could argue, Dean was moving away from her, eyes on the pulpit.

He was being stubborn, and it was only partly because he was a stubborn man. It had a lot to do with guilt, his resistance to her idea. He _had_ to do this now. He was responsible for the death of an innocent man, and now he had to clean up his mess, pay a penance…

But if he had to blame himself for Layla too… he was going to fall apart.

She needed him to not fall apart.

Jayne followed him towards the pulpit, joining him in his hiding spot by one of the tent supports. "I really think you should let me take this one," she murmured.

"I'm fine."

He was getting pissed.

"I'm sure you are. I still think you should let me take this one."

"Not happening."

She sighed. "Why the hell not?"

"Shut up," he said. "The ceremony's starting."

The piano music tinkled through the tent. Roy took his place at the pulpit. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and stared determinedly at the stage.

Jayne sighed again. Things were about to get messy.

* * *

The worshippers had filed into the tent. Roy had already been escorted out his front door by his wife and one of the hired hands. The muddy parking lot was deserted except for one lone protester, and from his angle, there was no way the young, disgruntled man could see Sam and Lynn, crouched down on the front porch.

And even if he could see them, Sam seriously doubted the protester would do anything to stop them.

He ducked back around the corner of the porch where Lynn was waiting, leaning against the wall of the house with her arms folded over her chest. She refused to look at him.

Sam couldn't blame her. Silently, he threw up the sash of the unlocked living room window and crawled inside the Le Grange farmhouse. Moments later, Lynn hopped inside behind him.

"You want to take this room?" he whispered.

She shrugged.

Sam sighed. "If we're going to work together, we have to talk to one another," he said as patiently as he could.

"Who's not talking?" she bit back.

Sam stared at her for a long time. "Fine," he said finally. "You take this room, then. I'll go look for an office or a library."

"Sounds like a plan."

She didn't look at him when she spoke, and once the words left her lips, she instantly turned her back on him and moved off to a corner of the living room, intent on her search. Sam watched her a moment longer, but she didn't acknowledge his presence.

He shook his head, and then marched off to the next room.

It wasn't like he thought he was innocent here. He knew exactly what he'd done, and he knew it was bad. He knew she had a right to be pissed.

But what was he supposed to do? He'd fucked up. He'd fucked up big time. He'd let down his brother and disappointed Lynn and then he'd dragged everybody to this stupid faith healer who gave church services in a freaking tent, and even after he'd managed to save Dean, he'd still fucked up. Because saving Dean had meant killing somebody else. And there was no fixing that.

The room next to the living room turned out to be a library. Sam began walking along the bookshelves lining the room, watching the dust along the shelves, looking for any clean space before a particular book. After nearly ten minutes of scrutiny, he came to a shelf with the exact tell-tale sign he'd been searching for.

A long line of dust, broken before an old, black book entitled, "Encyclopedia of Christian History."

Sam slid the volume off the shelf and flipped through the pages. Nothing that even remotely resembled anything relating to the tarot or to necromancy jumped off the page at him.

Sighing, Sam shut the book and laid it on the nearby desk. Then he reached into the space where the encyclopedia had come from, searching for something, anything else.

He found it. An old, beaten, black leather book, small and thin… more of a pamphlet, really. Sam flipped it open. Inside, on one of the first few pages, was the weird cross he'd seen on the table in the tent, on the tarot card from his father's research…

And tucked within the black book's pages were newspaper clippings.

One was about Marshall Hall… and the lawsuit he'd won against the local school system. A lawsuit filed when they fired him for being openly gay.

And then there was another clipping, about a recently deceased woman that Sam remembered as dying at the same time Roy had healed someone else. Her name was Holly Morton. She was a local abortion advocate.

There was one more clipping. And it was about the man they'd seen outside Roy's tent every time they'd come by. The protestor. The one who called Roy's church a cult.

Sam ran out of the library. Lynn, searching the books stacked under the living room coffee table, looked up at his entrance, startled.

"We got to go," Sam said. "I got the book… the next victim is the protester. The one in the parking lot."

Lynn frowned, getting up off her knees. "How do you know that?"

"Newspaper clippings," Sam returned, heading for the window. "Tucked in the book. He's picking victims he thinks are immoral, Lynn. Marshall Hall was gay, Holly Morton was pro-choice…"

"And the protester has the nerve to disagree with Roy," Lynn spat. "I'm following. Let's go."

Sam ducked out onto the porch, glancing around in a panic. No one was watching.

Lynn hopped out next. Sam whipped out his cell phone and called Dean, rushing down the back steps. Lynn followed, and then split from him once they hit the backyard.

Dean answered on the first ring. "What do you got?"

"Roy's choosing victims he sees as immoral," Sam explained, racing towards the parking lot, eyes peeled for the protester. "And I think I know who's next on his list. Remember that protester?"

"The guy in the parking lot?"

"Yeah. Lynn and I will find him. But you can't let Roy heal anyone, all right?"

Then Sam hung up the phone, tucked his contraband from the farmhouse into his coat, and raced towards the parking lot, hoping against hope that he wasn't too late.

* * *

Dean hung up his phone, cussing.

"What?" Jayne demanded.

"Sam called," Dean spat. "Roy's offing people that aren't so friendly to the whole fall on your knees and praise the Lord thing."

Jayne frowned. "Then why the hell did he heal _you_?"

Dean sighed, harassed. "Hell if I know. Look, the protester outside is next on the list. Sam and Lynn are looking for him, but…"

"But there's no way to stop a reaper."

Her tone was definitive, determined. Dean looked her in the eye. Jayne stared back evenly. She knew the score.

"Right," Dean sighed. "We got to find a way to stop Roy."

"Layla Rourke!"

Dean's stomach sank as the tent burst into applause.

Jayne's eyes went wide. She stared at Dean.

Dean pretended not to notice.

"Layla Rourke!" Roy called again. "Come up here, child!"

Dean ripped his eyes from Roy and looked out at the audience. Layla stood up, hugging her mother.

"Get out of here."

Jayne's order startled him. Dean gave her an incredulous look. "What?"

She was fishing a lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket. Dean fought the urge to ask when the hell she'd started smoking – there wasn't time. "Get out of here," Jayne said again. "Go help Sam and Lynn with the protester. I got this one."

Dean stared. "I can't."

"Please, Dean," she said, looking him in the eye. Dean kept staring at her, and she gave him a pleading look. "Please don't be a part of this."

He stared a moment longer. Jayne kept begging him with her eyes. He almost gave in. Almost.

But it was too late. He was already a part of this. He couldn't back out now.

Dean shook his head at her, and then ran to intercept Layla Rourke.

The petite young woman was startled to say the least when Dean stepped into her path, grabbed her arm.

"Layla, wait," he whispered urgently. "Listen to me. You can't go up there."

"Why not?" she whispered back. "We've waited for months!"

"You can't let Roy heal you."

"I don't understand. He healed you, didn't he? Why wouldn't I at least let him try?"

"Because if you do, something bad is going to happen. I can't really explain, I just need you to believe me."

"Layla!"

Dean turned. Sue Ann was standing at the foot of the stage, holding her hand out to Layla.

"Please," Dean begged.

Layla looked at him, and for a moment Dean thought she was going to do it. He really thought she was going to take yet another leap of faith, and believe him.

But then she looked at her mother.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, breaking free of his grip.

"Layla!" Dean hissed after her.

She took Sue Ann's hand, and let the preacher's wife lead her up onstage.

Dean looked around the tent, cursing under his breath. What was he supposed to do now?

If he stopped Roy… Layla would…

But if he didn't…

Dean clenched his fists, trying to think up something fast. But his brain was failing him. Everything was failing him.

Even Jayne. The tall blonde hunter had vanished from the tent. Dean shook his head, cussing again. Where the hell was she? Didn't she get that he needed her right now?

"Pray with me friends!" Roy announced.

Layla closed her eyes. Roy reached for her face.

Dean began backing towards the door, not sure what he was going to do, where the hell Jayne was, how to…

Did he smell smoke?

"Fire!"

Dean heard Jayne's voice distinctly, but still couldn't see her face.

"Fire! Fire!"

"Holy god, I see smoke!" a little old lady on the left cried out.

Dean frowned, looking in the scared woman's direction.

There was definitely smoke rising up from the bottom of the tent.

Despite everything, a small smile crossed Dean's face, and a nearly silent chuckle escaped his throat.

Leave it to Goldilocks.

* * *

Lynn tore around the corner of a parked SUV, looking frantically for the protester.

It made her sick, really. That fundamentalist bastard. Picking and choosing who had a right to live, believing his god would approve. It was downright hypocritical, this cleansing of the amoral using black magic.

She didn't believe in much, and that made her feel bad. She could tell Sam believed in all this god and heaven and Christianity stuff, but…

Well, she'd like it all to be true. The nasty, evil shit she'd grown up seeing… she'd love it if there was an antithesis out there. A god. Good entities to battle it out alongside the evil ones. Something wise, something powerful, something noble and kind that could hear her prayers.

She wasn't Jayne. She wasn't even Dean. She couldn't even say that she didn't believe.

It was more like she wasn't sure what to believe. She wasn't sure if she _should_ believe, really. There was plenty of bad out there that was evil for the sake of being evil, but… but then there were people like Roy, people who believed in good and God… and then committed such evil, heinous acts in the name of something that was supposed to be better than all that.

Now, the hunt felt personal. As relieved as she was that Dean was still alive, that Sam had his brother back, that Jayne wasn't going to lose anyone else… she was not going to sit there and let some psychotic preacher man dictate the lifestyles of those around him. He had no right to do it, no right to decide how good people lived, no right to kill.

Then came the scream.

"Help me! Help!"

It was the protester. She was sure of it.

Lynn ducked around another parked car – this one an aging black Volvo – and hurried towards the sound of the screams, her boots squishing in the deep, soft mud.

She saw him; a pale, tall man, a little too thin, his dark hair gelled perfectly, dressed all in black. He was screaming and retreating, running backwards from something in front of him, something that only he could see.

Lynn ran to his side. "Where is it?" she demanded, grabbing his jacket.

The protester screamed again, and then pointed directly in front of him. "There!"

Lynn looked and looked, squinting her eyes, crinkling her forehead. She didn't see a damn thing.

"It's coming!" the protester shrieked.

Lynn threw herself in front of him, still trying desperately to see the attacker.

"Lynn!"

It was Sam yelling now, coming around the corner of an old trailer, hitched to rusting pickup. He flew through the mud, running for her and the protester.

"Where is it?" Sam demanded, arriving just behind them.

"It's behind you!" the protester shrieked.

Both hunters whirled, looking for the magical teleporting reaper, and still seeing nothing but air.

"Oh god," the protester was moaning, closing his eyes, shaking his head. "Oh god."

He stumbled backwards into a white, ten year old Cadillac, clutching his throat.

Sam's eyes darted from one parked car to the next. "Where the hell is this thing!" he exploded.

"He's got me!"

The protester rasped the words, gasping for air, clawing at nothing, still clutching his throat. Lynn stood in the parking lot helplessly, half a foot from the dying protester, staring at him in horror.

She had no idea what to do.

There wasn't anything she _could _do.

She was about to watch this man die.

* * *

Panicked worshippers started getting to their feet, making for the exits. Roy was calling out soothing words to his flock, trying to control the panic.

Layla's mother had an expression of horror on her face.

"Please don't stop!" she was begging. "Please!"

Dean stepped out of the tent as inconspicuously as he could, ducking around the corner. The worshippers kept filing out through the tent flaps. Roy was one of the last to leave, sandwiched between Layla and one of his security guards. Layla's mother followed close behind.

"We got him?"

Dean jumped, spinning around. "Why you got to sneak up on me like that?" he snapped.

Jayne shrugged, folding her arms over her chest. "We got him?" she asked again.

Dean surveyed the parking lot. "Must have." He turned back to her, frowning. "Did you set that damn tent on fire?"

She scoffed. "Nah. Just lit up some cigarettes, stuck them under the tent. Put them inside some tin shit I found around the garbage cans. No worries – just smoke."

"What are you doing with cigarettes?"

"They're Lynn's. I stole them so she'd quit smoking. She says she doesn't, but I catch her sneaking all the fucking time."

Dean stared at her a moment. She raised her eyebrow. "What?"

He snorted. "You're something."

Jayne frowned at him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Dean didn't answer, digging his phone out of his pocket and calling Sam.

"Dean?" Sam's voice rang in his ear.

"I did it," Dean informed him. "I stopped Roy. The protester make it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we're all fine. I think…"

Sam trailed off. Dean heard him swallow. "Yeah, I think it worked."

A beat. And then a loud, terrified, masculine scream.

"No!" Sam bellowed into the phone. "No, it's still coming!"

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know! Roy must not be controlling it!"

"But who…?"

Dean hung up without finishing the question. "Damn it," he hissed, looking around.

"What?" Jayne demanded beside him.

"Reaper's still coming for the protester," Dean replied. "Go out among the flock, look for anything suspicious. I'm headed back in the tent."

"You mean the tent that's on fire?"

Dean stared at her. "You said…"

"Well, yeah. I didn't really light the sucker up. But…"

"Just do it."

Dean didn't stick around to see if Jayne heeded his command. He raced back inside the tent without a backwards glance.

It was dark in there, and empty. Smoke was still funneling in on the left, but it wasn't anything heavy, nothing threatening. Dean peered around the tent, not seeing anyone, until…

There she was, in the corner, behind one of the shelves that lined the tent walls. Her back was to him, but he could hear her mumbling. Whatever she was saying, it wasn't English.

"Sue Ann," he muttered to himself.

Dean stormed to her side of the tent, grabbing her arm and whipping her around. The preacher's wife stopped her mumbling, turning wide, terrified eyes on Dean.

He looked down at the necklace she was clutching.

A cross, matching the one on the table. The tarot cross, the dark art symbol.

She too looked down at the cross, and then stuffed it hurriedly into her sweater. "Help!" she called out. "Somebody help me!"

The cops got there so fast, Dean suspected they'd been hiding in the tent all along.

* * *

Sam watched with wide eyes as the protester slowly sat up off the ground, clutching his jacket.

"Is it gone?" Lynn demanded, kneeling at the man's side.

The protester nodded, looking all around him in terror. His pale face was even whiter, his fingers were trembling.

Sam glanced all around them, but saw nothing else suspicious.

Not that he'd be able to see the reaper if it were still around, of course.

Lynn stood up, offering the man her hand. He took it, stumbling back up on his feet, still gasping for air. Sam moved quickly to the protester's side, grabbing his arm.

"I got you," he soothed.

"Dean and Jayne must have got him," Lynn murmured.

Sam nodded. "Yep," he said softly, still glancing around them. "Must have."

God, he hoped so.

* * *

Roy Le Grange wasn't doing a damn thing but standing still out in the middle of his muddy parking lot, holding the arm of his aid.

Jayne sighed heavily, surveying the people around the reverend. No one looked suspicious, no one was muttering any sort of black magic crap under their breath. The worshippers simply stood huddled together, looking nervous. Some of them were praying.

She shook her head in disgust. For crying out loud. A little smoke in their Jesus tent, and suddenly they were praying for a savior, like it was the end of the world coming and not the fire department.

Jayne had little patience for this sort of shit.

She cursed under her breath. Where was the culprit?

Biting her lip, she glanced back at the tent, eyes peeled for Dean.

He stepped through the tent flaps, a cop on either side of him, the preacher's wife leading the way.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Sue Ann was their bad guy.

Jayne pushed her way through Roy's flock, trying hard not to knock over any sick people, and headed straight for Dean.

"I just don't understand," she heard Sue Ann say. "After everything we've done for you, after Roy _healed_ you…"

The preacher's wife shook her head. "Well, we're just very disappointed, Dean."

Then she addressed the cops. "You can let him go. I'm not going to press any charges. The Lord will deal with him, as he sees fit."

Then Sue Ann was off, vanishing around the side of the tent.

One of the cops leered in Dean's face. "We catch you around here again, son, we'll put the fear of God in you. Understand?"

Dean shrugged the cops off him. "Yes sir, fear of God. Got it."

The cops shuffled off, darting dark looks in Dean's direction. Jayne stepped up, headed for his side. Layla Rourke got there first.

"Why would you do that, Dean?" the blonde with the brain tumor demanded. "It could have been my only chance!"

"He's not a healer."

"He healed you!"

Jayne watched Dean's back. He shook his head, not looking away from the angry woman in front of him. "I know it doesn't seem fair. And I wish I could explain. But Roy is not the answer, I'm sorry."

Layla just looked at him. Jayne moved closer to the two of them, wincing a little as she went.

"Goodbye, Dean," Layla said.

Jayne looked down at the mud.

The other woman pushed past Dean. Then she stopped, briefly, looking back at the oldest Winchester.

"I wish you luck," Layla told him. "I really do."

Dean looked back at her, and Jayne honestly hated the look on his face… the way his chin got all tight, and the way his eyes took on that lost little boy shine.

"Same to you," he said to Layla.

She turned her back on Dean, headed straight for her mother.

Dean watched her go.

"You deserve it a lot more than me," he muttered.

Jayne recognized she wasn't supposed to hear that. He hadn't meant for anyone to hear that. Honestly? She doubted he'd meant to say it out loud – she doubted he knew she was right behind him.

That didn't stop her.

Dean turned around again, and she stepped into his line of vision. She saw in his face, the moment he laid eyes on her, that he knew.

He knew she'd heard him. Dean looked away, half rolling his eyes, lips getting even tighter.

Jayne stared him down.

"You ready to go?" Dean asked, not looking at her. "Sam's got my keys, but I don't think we should wait for him. Wouldn't want those nice officers of the law to have to put that fear of god in me."

Jayne almost snapped at him.

"Yeah," she said instead, fishing out her keys. "I'm ready."

Dean marched off to the truck, not waiting for her. He swung open the passenger door, climbing in. Jayne took off across the mud, clambering into the cab moments after.

She started the engine, shifted into drive. Wheeled her way slowly in and out of the spooked group of worshippers. Turned the volume down on 'Me and Bobby McGee.'

They hit the dirt road leading back to the highway. The old truck rattled and shook all the way down, bouncing off the ruts and sliding in the mud.

"You mean that?" she asked after a while.

Dean propped his elbow against the door, glared out the window. "Mean what?"

"You know what. That whole Layla thing. She deserves a little luck a lot more than you?"

"I call it like I see it," he grit out. "You know… I'm healthy again. She's not. I lie, steal… commit credit card fraud. She's honest, nice… goes to church every Sunday. Seems to me like she's the better person."

He was being flippant. Sarcastic. Jayne didn't buy it.

"Bull shit," she spat.

He was startled into glancing her way.

"You think that nice little Christian girl deserves to live more than you do?"

Dean sighed harshly. Shook his head. "You know something, Goldilocks? I'm not really in the mood for a heart to heart."

"Well too damn bad," she retorted. "I got you in my truck for another twenty minutes."

"I swear, woman, I'll tuck and roll."

"You can tell your jokes," she snapped at him. "You can play Mr. Macho, you can drink your beer and screw your women and blast your classic rock. Go right ahead and pretend you're fine. But you ain't fooling me. You will never fool me."

"That so?"

He was pissed off, she could tell. She also didn't care.

"Damn straight, jackass. Who do you think you're talking to right now? I can read you like a book."

"Jayne…"

"Go ahead, growl out my name. Snap at me. Don't talk to me ever again. Think that's going to change what I know about you?"

Dean chuckled bitterly – dangerously. "You don't know a damn thing about me."

"I know more than one damn thing about your stubborn, sorry ass. I see what this job's doing to you."

Long silence.

"Well, so what?" she said finally. "So some guy's dead and you get to live."

"That _some _guy is dead _because of_ _me_!"

He'd exploded. The deep bellow resonated throughout the truck.

She glanced at him out the corner of her eye. He shook his head furiously, his fist going to his mouth. He returned his gaze to the window.

"You had no way of knowing what Sue Ann was up to," she said as gently as she knew how.

"Doesn't matter."

"Hey, you didn't even want to do this. Ok? Sam, me… we made you do this, all right? You want to blame someone, take a swing at one of us."

"Goldilocks…"

"Maybe you don't think your life is worth saving, but let me tell you something, asshole… if I have to choose between you and some muscle-head, between you and some little blonde Jesus lover… you, Dean. Every time."

Another long silence.

"Well, that's great," he half laughed, still bitter, still dangerous. "I'm glad you're happy."

"You think I'm happy right now?" she snapped. "Well, I'll admit it – I'm happy you're alive. I'm happy you won't be dead in another month. But I am not happy that you are sitting here in my truck and hating yourself right now. You got no right to hate yourself."

"I have no right to…?"

"You heard me. What have you ever done that's so bad? What, you save too many innocent people? You kill too many evil things? You do a little too much for your ungrateful father? Tell me, Dean. What the hell makes you such a bad guy, huh?"

"Don't talk about my dad."

"Why the hell not? Where is he, huh? Less than a week ago, you were stretched out in some pathetic hospital bed, looking like shit warmed over, with death less than a month away, and… and…"

Her voice broke. Goddamn it.

He looked at her with wide eyes. Jayne did not look at him. She kept her gaze on the windshield. She swallowed, she blinked. She barreled on.

"And that son of a bitch can't even pick up a fucking phone."

_Bang!_

His fist collided with the truck door, impact echoing throughout the tiny cab. The glass in the window rattled.

Silence.

"Don't ever talk about my dad like that."

Steady. Low. Too calm.

She didn't answer for a long time.

"You're worth more."

More silence. He frowned at the dashboard, flexing the fingers on his right hand.

"You are," she insisted, not once looking his way. "Dads are always supposed to come for their kids. Especially their dying kids. I don't care if the son's some lowlife rotting away on Death Row… dads are supposed to come. And you aren't some lowlife. You're a good son. You're a good man. You… your dad should have come."

He didn't say anything.

"That's all I got to say on the subject," she told him. "I'll never bring up your dad again."

Long pause.

"He's doing something important," Dean murmured. "He couldn't get away. The demon comes first."

Jayne's fingers tightened on the wheel. She clenched her jaw.

"Like hell it does."

"I understand. It's all right. You don't need to be all… all… big sister about it."

"You don't have to be all big brother about it," she snapped. "If it hurts, fucking say so."

"I'm fine!"

His tone was getting tight and dangerous again… and honestly, even Jayne knew that last statement of hers was hypocritical. She let the topic of John Winchester go.

She was not done, however, with Layla Rourke.

"If that woman dies," she told him. "It is not, under any circumstances, your fault."

Dean's jaw got all tight again, and he glared out the window.

"You can pretend you're fine," she went on. "But I know you're not. And I'm not going to sit quiet and let it be."

"Thanks for the moral support, _Lynn_."

She swallowed. Took the abuse.

"I know you, Dean, like it or not. You don't have to like it; I certainly don't. But I'm not letting you hate yourself. That's where I draw the line. I can sit quiet and let a lot go... admit it. You like that about me. But this is one thing I'm not sitting quiet about. I will never sit quiet about it. If I can't hate you, then I'm sure as hell not letting you do it."

He never said anything back. Jayne fell silent too. She kept driving, and they found themselves back at the motel only five minutes later.

He didn't get out of the truck.

Neither did she.

Not until the Impala pulled into the parking lot beside them. Not until Lynn stomped out of the passenger seat and marched into the motel. Not until Sam stepped into the parking lot and gave the truck a sheepish smile.

Then he climbed down from the cab and went over to Sam.

And Jayne followed Lynn inside.

* * *

Lynn leaned back in Janis's bench seat, titling her head towards the window. Her stepsister shoved the old truck into neutral; let the vehicle coast silently into the parking lot outside Roy Le Grange's tent.

Jayne sighed, shifting into park and shutting down the engine. Lynn looked at her. She caught Jayne's eyes wandering towards the old black car sidling up next to theirs – Dean's Impala.

"He's not all right, is he?" Lynn asked.

Jayne sighed again. "He'll live."

"And you?"

"There ain't a damn thing wrong with me."

Lynn watched her stepsister for awhile. Jayne didn't look at her.

"So all we got to do is find Sue Ann's black altar," Lynn spoke, breaking the silence. "Destroy it while everyone's in the tent, making good on Roy's promise to Mrs. Rourke to heal her daughter. Damn, does that woman make things difficult."

Jayne shrugged. "Her daughter's dying."

"I know. I'm not saying she shouldn't be making things difficult – I'm just saying she is. I mean, a private service? Just so Layla gets healed?"

"She's desperate," Jayne murmured. "Just like Sue Ann was, back when Roy had cancer. Layla's dying, Mrs. Rourke finds her a healer. When Roy was dying, Sue Ann bound a reaper, tried to keep death away from her husband. I mean, I think we all know a thing or two about desperation."

"Maybe," Lynn returned. "But to use the reaper to knock off anyone who doesn't share the same values as her…?"

"Values," Jayne snorted. "Last I checked, Christians aren't supposed to dabble in black magic and murder. Guess I missed that Sunday school lesson."

"Yeah, she's a psychopath," Lynn agreed. "With you all the way on that one."

"Come on," Jayne said, swinging open her door. "The boys are moving. Let's go end this."

Jayne hopped down from the cab and slammed the door. Lynn followed.

They met the boys outside the tent. Lynn could hear that old piano playing softly inside, Roy's voice a notch above the whispers of the worshippers. She chanced a peek through the tent flaps and saw Roy and Layla at the pulpit, only a handful of parishioners standing by the stage.

"Where's Sue Ann?" Dean asked suddenly.

"House?" Sam suggested.

Lynn sighed. Great. The serial murdering preacher's wife was missing in action.

They moved back towards the house, away from the tent, picking their way through the parked cars and RVs.

"All right," Dean murmured. "Sam, Lynn, you two go check the house. Find the altar. Goldilocks, you're with me."

Lynn saw Dean exchange a look with her stepsister. Jayne nodded in agreement to whatever the silent look signified, and then walked off amongst the parked cars, disappearing into the dark. Lynn frowned.

"Something you two want to share with the rest of us?" she hissed.

But Dean just shoved Sam behind the corner of the house, in between the bushes and the church's long white school bus. Sam, to Lynn's great annoyance, yanked her back there with him.

Dean stepped into the light. Lynn poked her head around the edge of the house. Two policemen were standing at the bottom of the porch steps.

There was a loud, long whistle.

The two cops stopped, glancing behind them, not even noticing Dean.

Jayne stepped out from behind an old, beat down pickup. "One of you by any chance find my lighter?" she asked. "I lost it this afternoon – you know, when I was smoking up that tent back there? I was hoping someone saw it around… it was my favorite."

The two cops stared at her. One stepped forward. "Did I just hear you right?" he asked incredulously.

Lynn rolled her eyes as her stepsister smirked. "Yeah, you heard right," Jayne said. She held up her hands. "Arrest me."

The cops looked at one another and then back at her. One of them made a move in her direction.

"Hey!" Dean called.

Both cops swiveled around, startled. When they saw Dean standing by the Le Grange's front porch, their shock gave way to fury.

"You going to put that fear of God in me?" Dean asked.

That's when Jayne took off running. The cops heard her pounding footsteps; they turned back to stop her. Dean chose that exact moment to race off next, heading in the opposite direction. After a moment of confusion, the two cops split up – one going after Jayne, the other after Dean.

Lynn shook her head. "Idiots."

"Who?" Sam asked. "The cops, or my brother and your stepsister?"

"All four of them," Lynn spat. "Let's go find that altar."

She marched up the porch steps. Sam followed close on her heels.

They moved in silence, trying not to be heard or seen. It helped that they were still, for the most part, ignoring one another. Minimal talking made it easy to move quietly.

She'd meant it, what she'd told Jayne. She and Sam needed to work things out on their own. They needed to talk.

But when this talking was actually going to occur… that was up in the air.

She knew he was hurting. She knew he was guilty. She got that. She was trying to understand. But it was hard to empathize with his pain when he was hurting her. And honestly? It was hard to be sympathetic at all right now.

Her mother might have killed herself.

At any rate, her mother was almost definitely working the dark side of hoodoo.

Lynn closed her eyes. Swallowed. Pushed the thought aside. Followed Sam down the porch's back steps and around a large bush. They stumbled on a root cellar, and Sam jimmied open the doors.

She followed him down the steps, into the dark earthen hole. Followed him to the opposite side of the basement. Stopped and stared when they hit the old wooden table.

That cross thing again. A skull – might have been an animal. A candle here and there. Bones, blood, shells… a picture of Dean with an 'x' through his face.

It appeared Sue Ann had settled on her next immoral victim.

Sam inhaled his breath sharply. "Dean," he whispered.

Lynn stared at the table. She wondered if her mother had ever built something like this.

She wondered if her mother had ever been a Sue Ann.

"I gave your brother life and I can take it away."

Both Lynn and Sam spun around at the warbling, accented voice that sounded behind them. Sue Ann Le Grange stood at the foot of the cellar steps, staring them down.

Sam glared back at the preacher's wife, his lip twitching.

Sue Ann made a run for the stairs.

"I don't think so, bitch!" Lynn snapped, racing after her.

She heard Sam's grunt behind her. The crash of the altar as it fell to the ground. Sue Ann got to the top of the steps way ahead of her and reached for the doors.

Lynn snatched her Glock from the waistband of her jeans.

"No!"

Sam appeared beside her, knocking the gun from her hands.

The cellar doors slammed shut. Lynn heard the scrape of metal against wood.

Sam pushed past her on the stairs and threw his weight uselessly into the cellar doors.

"Sam, can't you see?" Sue Ann called down from the other side of the doors. "The Lord chose me! To reward the just and punish the wicked! And your brother is wicked! He deserves to die just as much as Layla deserves to live!"

Sam gave up on the doors and tore back down the cellar steps. He ran across the cellar and began yanking at a loose beam in the corner.

"Lord chose you, huh?" Lynn bellowed from her place on the stairs. "He gave you that nice little book too? Teach you to use black magic?"

"I'm sorry!" Sue Ann called. "Goodbye Sam!"

She didn't acknowledge Lynn.

Lynn ran back downstairs. Spotted her Glock on the floor, two feet to the right. Scooped it off the ground, shoved it back in her jeans. Crossed the cellar and stood beside Sam. Sam had loosened the beam by now and was knocking the boards out of the tiny cellar window.

He grunted. Strained. The beam smashed the boards with a _bang!_ A wooden plank popped loose and fell onto the grass outside.

"You should have let me," Lynn bit out. "You shouldn't have stopped me. You shouldn't have knocked away my gun."

"She's human," Sam growled through his teeth, propelling the beam into the boarded up window again.

_Bang!_ Another plank popped loose and hit the ground.

"So what?" Lynn snapped. "She's a murderer."

"If we kill her, we're no better than she is!"

_Bang!_ The final plank popped free and tumbled to the grass. Sam stepped back from the window. "You first!"

Lynn glared at him. "The world's not black and white, Sam," she told him. "People can't always be saved."

"Now, Lynn!" he barked. "We don't have a lot of time!"

They didn't have a lot of time – that was true. Lynn shook her head bitterly and climbed through the window, dragging herself out and through the mud. As soon as she was clear of the cellar and stumbling onto her feet, Sam's head appeared in the window.

Less than five minutes later, they were free and running, headed for the tent.

Lynn was trying to figure out how she'd gotten sucked into this mess, anyway.

* * *

Jayne listened very carefully from where she lay flat on her back, staring up at the clear night sky.

Satisfied that the cops had given up, Jayne tentatively propped herself up on her elbows and poked her head over the rim of the truck bed she was hiding in.

Not a soul in sight, living or otherwise.

Jayne sat up and swung herself down from the rusted white Chevy. She looked around her real quick once again, making sure she was alone. When nobody appeared, Jayne began trekking through the parking lot, looking for Dean.

She found him climbing down off the top of an RV. "Seriously?" she asked.

Dean jumped, then turned around and glared at her. "You mind?"

Jayne shrugged.

They started walking back across the parking lot, headed towards the tent. Silently.

She wondered if this was the upshot of their little conversation in the truck. Maybe they really weren't ever going to talk again.

One of the lights flickered and went out.

Jayne froze. So did Dean. There was a buzz, and a _flick_, and then every light along the lot fizzled and died.

She looked at Dean. He caught her eye, gave her a wide-eyed and disturbed expression.

His eyes wandered from hers, staring at a spot behind her, down the dark aisle between parked cars. His eyes got wider, and his muscles tensed up.

Jayne looked over her shoulder and saw nothing.

She shivered in the dark. The air around her went cold.

Then suddenly, Dean choked.

"Dean?"

He wheezed, stumbling forward. Jayne moved to catch him, but he tumbled to his knees, landing at her feet.

She flopped down in the mud beside him, the cold wet sludge seeping into the knees of her jeans. "Dean?" she demanded, her voice breaking.

Dean's only answer was a loud, pained groan. He gasped for air, his face going white and his eyes glazing over. Jayne reached for him as he fell onto his side, rolling him on his back. "Dean!" she shouted at him, grabbing him around the face.

Her eyes searched his. He didn't look at her, or anything. Just stared at the night sky, still panting.

Jayne glanced all around her, still holding his face. There was nothing and no one – just her and Dean, huddled in the middle of the mud.

"Dean? Dean! Come on, don't do this to me!"

His twitching, fighting limbs began to slow, to fall heavily to the ground. His breathing slowed and stopped. His head lolled to the side.

"No!"

Jayne shook him, slapping his face. "Damn it, Dean!"

He didn't answer. The world went still.

* * *

Sam tore across the grassy lot, sneakers sinking in the muck, catching his breath in long, pained lungfuls.

Where was she? Where was Sue Ann?

The altar was gone – desecrated – a mess on the cellar floor. But that amulet was still around Sue Ann's neck. Which meant there was a chance she could still work her spell, control the reaper…

Kill Dean.

Sam ran faster. He could hear Lynn running along behind him, her boots squishing in the mud. Sam rounded the corner of an SUV and saw the preacher's wife standing just outside the tent flaps, clutching her amulet, whispering to herself.

He closed the distance easily and yanked the amulet from her neck, pitching it at the ground.

It hit the hard gravel outside the tent and shattered into little pieces. Blood leaked out and ran around the stones.

"No!" Sue Ann exclaimed, falling to her knees beside the broken amulet. "My god, what have you done?"

Sam smirked down at her with satisfaction. Tried to catch his breath.

"He's not your god," he informed her.

She looked up, straight ahead. Gasped again – this time in fear. Sam followed her gaze, frowning. There was nothing in front of them.

Sue Ann gasped again, clutching her throat. She coughed, she choked. She slumped to the side and rolled onto her back, twitching.

Sam backed away, staring at her in horror, transfixed.

She laid still in the gravel, among the broken amulet and spilled blood, her empty eyes on Sam's face.

A hand closed around his arm. "We need to get the hell out of here," Lynn's voice said in his ear.

Sam stared at Sue Ann. "She's…"

"Dead," Lynn finished, pulling him gently back the way they came. "We let the reaper go remember? Believe you me, it knows who trapped it."

Sam frowned at her.

"We need to go," she said again, still backing away, still pulling his arm.

Sam moved. He followed her. They headed for the car.

* * *

Dean choked, gasping in fresh air for the first time in several long seconds. The pressure on his skull and throat lifted, and the sudden rush of oxygen left him dizzy. He tried to sit up, still gasping, and sank back down.

Jayne caught him, cradling his head in her lap. "Dean!" she shouted at him. "Dean!"

He sucked in air like it was being discontinued. He looked up at her as she held his head, tapped his cheek.

The lights in the lot flickered back on. He saw her face – panicked, white, a trembling lower lip.

Wet eyes.

No tears. Just shiny eyes.

"Dean?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

He nodded, still breathing hard. "Yeah," he choked out. "Yeah."

"It's gone?"

He nodded again.

She sighed. Stared at him.

He stared back.

Then slowly, he sat up off the ground. She gripped him in a steady hold, straightening him up and balancing him out. Dean sat still a moment as she raised herself on her knees, gripping his shoulder.

He looked at her again. Again, they stared.

Her lips were inches from his. Dean's eyes wandered down from hers, down to her lips.

His head tilted in, slowly, unconsciously.

She drew in a shaky breath, watching him. Her eyes moved to his mouth. She leaned forward.

A general outcry from the direction of the tent stopped them both.

Dean glanced towards the noise. Jayne leaned back, looking at the ground.

They sat still a moment.

"Can you stand?" she asked.

He nodded, his breath back. "I'm fine."

She got to her feet and took his arms. He stood up with her help and winced, wrapping an arm around his abdomen.

"You all right?"

He nodded again. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

They started walking for the Impala and Janis. Her hand lay heavy on the middle of his back.

"I'm fine," he told her.

Her hand fell away. "If you say so."

It started raining.

When they got to the car and the truck, Sam and Lynn were waiting and damp. Each of them climbed into their respective vehicle and drove away.

* * *

Dean sat on the edge of his bed, dropping clothes in the duffel at his feet.

"What is it?"

Dean looked up, startled by his brother's voice. "Nothing," he said, looking back down at the duffel.

"Dude," Sam insisted. "What is it?"

Again, Dean looked up at his brother. "We did the right thing here? Right?"

Sam tilted his head, shoulders falling. "Of course we did."

Dean looked back at the floor. "Well, it sure doesn't feel like it."

There was a knock at the door.

Dean stood up, hoping – no, thinking – it might be Jayne. Even Lynn. Popping by to say goodbye.

Sam opened the door. Dean was shocked to see a small blonde girl standing in the doorway.

Layla Rourke.

He took a step forward. She walked into the room. "Hey," he said too eagerly.

"Hi," she smiled.

Dean shook his head. "How did you even know we were here?"

She smiled again. Gestured at Sam. "Sam called," she explained. "He said you wanted to say goodbye."

Dean looked at his brother.

"I'm going to go get a soda," Sam excused himself. He smirked at Dean, and then scurried out the door.

Layla moved further into the room, eyeing their luggage. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Uh… don't know yet," Dean returned, thinking up a lie. "Our work kind of takes us all over so…"

She nodded. They were quiet a moment.

"You know, I went back to see Roy."

Dean stared at her a moment. "What happened?" he finally asked.

She shook her head and took a seat on the bed. "Nothing."

Dean sat next to her.

"I mean, he laid his hand on my forehead, but nothing happened."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry it didn't work."

"And Sue Ann… she's dead, you know? A stroke."

"Yeah, I heard."

A pause.

"You know, Roy's a good man," Dean observed. "He doesn't deserve what's happened."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "It must be rough. To believe in something so much and then have it disappoint you like that."

Layla smiled. "Want to hear something weird?"

Dean looked at her again, full on.

"I'm ok," she told him. "Really. I guess if you're going to have faith, you can't just have it when the miracles happen. You have to have it when they don't."

He shook his head. Stared at her. Smiled painfully. "So what now?"

She smiled too, shrugging. "God works in mysterious ways."

There was a burning in his eyes. Dean stared at her, trying really hard to smile.

Layla cupped the side of his face, her hand brushing his hair. "Goodbye Dean."

She got to her feet and headed for the door. Dean rose from the bed. "Hey," he said.

She stopped and turned back to him.

"I'm not much of a praying type. But… I'm going to pray for you."

She stared at him.

"Well," she said finally. "There's a miracle right there."

Then Layla opened the door, stepped into the hall, and was gone.

* * *

Lynn turned into the vending area on her way back in from the parking lot, fishing in her purse.

"Oh, hey."

She looked up at the voice and found Sam in front of the Pepsi machine, holding a bottle in his hand. He gave her a strained, almost apologetic smile.

Lynn didn't really have the energy to smile, so she returned to her purse, pretending to be distracted. "Hey."

"You guys leaving?"

Lynn dug some quarters out of the bottom of her purse and then shouldered the bag, finally looking him hard in the face. "Yeah," she said. "Last bag's loaded. I think Jayne was going to tell you guys goodbye first. We'll be gone sometime in the next ten minutes."

She brushed past him and the Pepsi machine to the Coke one instead and began slipping quarters into the slot.

Sam leaned up against the ice maker. "So… you weren't going to say goodbye?"

Lynn froze. She pursed her lips. And then she silently made her selection.

The machine hummed and groaned. There was a _clunk _as her diet soda fell to the bottom of the machine. She reached into the drawer and yanked out the plastic bottle.

"Lynn, I'm really sorry."

She looked up at him, surprised.

"What?"

"I'm really sorry," Sam repeated. "I just… with everything."

"Don't worry about it."

"No, really. I mean it. I shouldn't have treated you like that. I shouldn't have ignored you. I just… that night, when Dean… and you… I was just so… and I needed…"

"I get it."

"I'm sorry. It's just that… while we were… he was lying in that hospital, dying, and I… well how could I…?"

"Sam," she whispered. "Stop. Really. I get it. It's fine."

"It's not fine. I was wrong. I just… I need you to know that."

Long pause.

"Don't worry," she told him. "I do know that."

He chuckled ruefully.

"Sam, it's not like I don't understand," she went on. "I get it perfectly. You were upset that night, and I was there."

"No. No, Lynn, it wasn't like…"

"It was," she interrupted. "It was exactly like that. You needed comforting… a distraction. I provided."

Sam shook his head. Gave her those sad puppy eyes. "Lynn…"

"You know, I have my own shit I'm going through," she said evenly. Not whining, not complaining. Nothing self-righteous. Just matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm just saying I understand. There was a little of that use-for-comfort going down on my side too. I get it, Sam."

He looked at the floor.

"I even get why you got silent and closed off," she told him. "I know it was guilt. You were disappointed in yourself. You weren't being a loyal little brother or some bullshit. No one should get laid while Dean's in the hospital, right?"

Sam sighed.

"So… I understand. And for the record? Sam, you are a really great little brother."

He looked up from the floor in surprise. Stared at her.

"You are," she told him. "You're a great brother. You really care about Dean – anyone can see that. You're willing to do anything for him. What you went through when he was dying… I can only hope that if it was us in that situation, if Jayne was dying, that I could be half the sister to her that you were a brother to Dean."

Long silence. Sam scratched at the back of his neck, ears red.

"So don't worry on that score. Dean's got an awesome little brother. You didn't do wrong by him, ok? You didn't betray him and you didn't disappoint him. You went above and beyond the call. Dean should be proud."

Another long silence. Lynn tucked her soda into her purse. She looked Sam square in the eye.

"I mean, hey – you made me feel like shit, but… you are a great brother."

He looked at her with big sad eyes. "Lynn…"

"Goodbye, Sam."

She brushed past him and marched back towards the exit, deciding to wait for Jayne in the truck.

* * *

Jayne knocked on the Winchester's motel room door.

When the door swung open, Dean appeared at the threshold. He looked at her, slightly surprised, but then his eyes lit up a little.

He smiled. "Hey, Goldilocks."

"Hi," she said. "Um… we're leaving."

Dean nodded. "Ok."

She stared at him. Dean stepped back, holding the door wider. "You going to come in?" he asked.

She shrugged. He rolled his eyes. She rolled hers too and then stepped inside. Dean shut the door behind her.

He leaned against it. Jayne stood in the middle of the entryway. "So… thanks," he said.

She frowned at him. "For?"

He shrugged. "Everything."

Silence.

"You're welcome."

Another silence.

"So… bye then."

Jayne headed for the door. Dean stepped in her path.

"What you said," he told her. "In the truck. About my dad and Layla…"

"What about it?"

She raised her chin defiantly. Dean stared her in the eye, not backing down.

"Thank you."

Jayne frowned. "What?"

"Thank you," he said again. "Not that it made me all better or anything, but…"

He cleared his throat.

Jayne stared at him.

Dean sighed. "But you're the only person who… no one else would have said something like that to me."

Another long silence.

"Well," she murmured after a while. "Points for originality, I guess. Go me."

He smiled. She grinned.

"Well, that's enough of that," Dean joked. "We don't need any more chick flick moments."

Jayne laughed. "Right. Ok then, macho-man."

They stood quietly for a moment. "Look, Dean… I'm glad you're not dead."

He snorted. "Thanks."

"I am, though. Look… you know, if you need something, you can call me right?"

He blinked. "I can call you?"

She nodded, pointedly not looking at him. "Yeah. Anytime."

"Wow, Goldilocks. You practice that in the mirror?"

"Shut up."

He chuckled. "Right back at you. I mean… not the shut up part. The calling anytime part. Although you're welcome to shut up."

She laughed despite herself.

"Take care of yourself," she told him. "Try not to have anymore heart attacks."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Oh, and for future reference? Water and electricity… not good bedfellows."

"Ha. Ha. Smart ass."

She slugged him in the arm. "See you around."

"See you, Goldilocks."

He opened the door. She stepped into the hall. He leaned against the jamb and stared at her.

Jayne stood still a moment and stared back. She tried a smile. And then she nodded, walking off down the hall.

"Goodbye Jayne!"

She stopped halfway down the hall and looked over her shoulder. "Goodbye."

He grinned and disappeared into the motel room. She smiled, not entirely sure why. And then she headed for the parking lot.


	40. Nightmare

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to 321K-Girl, Nelle07, angeleyenc, hulahula551, Penny, M*YP, LaFemmeQuiRit, Lov3good, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, ThreeMoons, winchesterlover14, deansbabygirl934, ksirrah, BrooklynHiggans63, Joan J., Clarissa Avila, PushUpDaisies, legrowl, Carver Edlund and Supernatural94 for all the reviews!

I know. I suck. I suck so, so, so freaking much. I didn't mean to leave you all hanging for so long! I had writer's block and computer issues and school work… blah, blah, blah, I am full of excuses. Let's just say that I am sorry, and I beg your forgiveness! Please?

Lots of love, poorpiratelass!

* * *

Chapter 40: Nightmare

The street was quiet and pitch black. A streetlamp here and there lit the way for passing cars. Rolling down the street, headlights cutting through the dark, was a powder blue two-door sedan with Bob Seger blasting on its radio.

A quick turn and the sedan pulled into a short drive. Waited for the garage door to roll up. When all was clear, the car coasted into the brightly lit garage, parking next to a red jet ski.

The middle-aged man behind the wheel had curly brown hair, receding slightly from his forehead, and deep shadows under his close-set, dark eyes. He shut down the engine, killing the music.

When the garage door closed behind him, he looked back over his shoulder, startled to see the door lowering on its own. As he frowned out the back windshield, the locks snapped down on the two car doors.

His frown deepened. He yanked at the locks, trying to unlock the doors. They wouldn't budge. He was starting to panic when the key turned itself in the ignition and the car roared back to life.

The radio dial rotated on its own, switching stations rapidly. First static, then talk, then weather, then more static, integrated with snatches of music.

He yanked on the locks again as the garage and the car began to fill with exhaust. Coughing, he pulled the locks, rattled the doors, screamed for help.

No one came. He tried kicking out the windows, but the glass held strong against his efforts.

The exhaust overcame him. Choking on the fumes, he fell backwards onto the front bench seat, his head lolling and his limbs weakening.

Then he was still - wide, glassy eyes staring empty at the dashboard.

Sam Winchester woke up.

* * *

Sam sat up in bed, looking around the dark motel room, breathing just a little too fast.

He switched on the light, swung his long legs over the side of the bed. "Dean," he hissed, reaching for the bed beside his. He grabbed his brother's arm, shaking it.

"Dean!"

Dean started and groaned, lifting his head slightly from the pillow. The yellow motel blanket slid down, revealing his ruffled sleep hair and black tee shirt. "What are you doing man?" he asked drowsily. "It's the middle of the night!"

Sam was already on the other side of the room, shoving things into his duffel bag. "We have to go."

"What's happening?"

"We have to go! Right now!"

It was times like these when Sam was grateful for his older brother. Dean rolled out of bed and started packing. Sam tried to explain the best he could as they gathered up their stuff. A quick spot check of the room and they were out the door.

Twenty minutes later they were on the expressway, headed for Michigan. The Impala's engine was roaring as Dean whipped the old car down the highway and through the rain at high speed. The rain was pouring down in buckets. The wipers were flying across the windshield full blast. Sam had his cell phone to his ear and was rattling off a stolen badge number for the benefit of the woman at the license bureau.

"I need the registered owner of a two-door sedan, Michigan license plate M F 6037. Yeah, ok, just hurry."

"Relax, Sammy," Dean said from the driver's seat. "I'm sure it was just a nightmare."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"I mean it. You know a normal, everyday, naked-in-class nightmare. This license plate, it won't check out. You'll see."

"It felt different, Dean. Real. Like when I dreamt about our hold house. Or Lynn. Or Jessica."

"Well, yeah, that makes sense. You were dreaming about our house. Our friends. Your girlfriend. This guy in the garage - you ever see him before?"

Sam sighed, shaking his head. "No."

"Exactly. Why would you be having premonitions about some random dude in Michigan?"

"I don't know."

"Yeah, well, me neither."

The woman at the bureau came back on the line. "Yes. I'm here... Jim Miller. Saginaw, Michigan. You have a street address?"

She rattled it off. Sam wrote it down. "Got it. Thanks."

He hung up.

"It checks out," he told Dean. "How far away?"

"From Saginaw?"

"Yeah."

"A couple hours."

They were quiet a moment. "Drive faster," Sam said.

Dean stomped down on the gas.

Sam dug out his phone again and dialed.

"What now?" Dean asked.

"Lynn."

Dean sighed. "Right. Of course."

They were silent. Sam waited, hoping someone would pick up.

* * *

_Cambion._

_In demonology and medieval legend, the offspring of either an incubus and human female, or a succubus and a human male. According to the folklore, these half-human children are usually devilishly cunning and angelically beautiful, able to persuade even the most strong-hearted individual to do his or her bidding. Despite this, medieval records are filled with graphic accounts of half-human, half-animal creatures that were reputedly fathered by incubi. Twins and children born with any sort of deformity were automatically suspected to be cambions. The magician Merlin was thought to be the result of one of these midnight copulations... could mean cambions are often born with psychic or demonic powers._

_Most cambions have evil tendencies, but some are more sympathetic to the human race than others. It was also said that many do not show any sign of life before seven years old._

The words glared up from the top lines of the yellow Steno paper. For a long time, Jayne just stared at them.

Then she yanked the open bottle off the nightstand and took a heavy swig.

It was dark in the motel room. Lynn was sleeping in the next bed, the one by the bathroom. A blue glow emanated from the TV screen, channel turned to the George Foreman infomercial and speakers put on mute.

She moved to set the bottle back on the nightstand and then froze. The bottle swung back and forth from where her fingers gripped the neck. Then she brought the bottle back and took another long drink. Swallowed. Winced against the burn. She sat the Captain Morgan back down on the nightstand and lifted the Steno pad up, still reading.

_Excerpt from the Malleus Malificarum._

_"Moreover, to beget a child is the act of a living body, but devils cannot bestow life upon the bodies they assume; because life formally proceeds only from the soul, and the act of generation is the act of the physical organs which have bodily life. Therefore, bodies which are assumed in this way cannot either beget or bear."_

_Could be speaking of reanimated corpses? In order to reproduce, these unions must be consummated while demon has possessed a living man or woman... can demon remain in the woman and still nourish an unborn child?_

It was nearing three am, and Jayne knew she should quit, turn out the light, get some sleep. The bottle was noticeably less full than when she'd started and if she kept going, she'd be useless tomorrow.

Lynn snored slightly in her bed. Jayne glanced at her through bleary eyes, and reached for the bottle again.

Her stepsister's cell phone started vibrating against the nightstand.

Jayne rolled her eyes and snatched it off the table, checking the display screen.

Sam.

She flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Hey, Lynn, it's Sam. Sorry to... Jayne?"

Jayne snorted, tossing the Steno pad onto the mattress and grabbing the rum. "You got it, Sammy."

She gulped down the Captain Morgan.

"Did you just call me Sammy?"

"Mm-hmm. What do you want?"

"Don't call me Sammy."

"You know what? _Sammy_? You going to call me at three in the morning, you're going to put up with whatever I decide to call you! Capishe?"

"Um... ok. Sorry."

"What the hell do you want?"

"Uh... I just... are you drunk?"

"What did you just say to me?"

"Are you drunk?"

Jayne didn't answer right away. Was she slurring? Was it really that obvious?

It didn't take long to decide she didn't give a damn. "Well, so what if I am?" she snapped at him. "It's three in the fucking morning, Samantha! Normal people are drunk at three in the morning! Or sleeping!"

"Um... right. Can I... could you put Lynn on the phone? Please?"

"No, Lynn is sleeping. You know, like normal people do at three in the morning. What the hell do you want?"

"Well... um... look, I had a... a nightmare."

Jayne didn't answer for a long time. She frowned at the George Foreman commercial.

"Jayne?"

"You had a nightmare."

"Yeah. About some guy in Saginaw, Michigan. Name's Jim Miller. He... he dies. I'm not sure when, but he gets trapped in a garage... I mean, something traps him in a garage, something invisible and... Look, can you meet us there?"

Jayne frowned harder. "You want to meet... in a place... that came out of your nightmare?"

Sam sighed heavily. "Can you please put Lynn on the phone?"

"Chill out man, I get it," Jayne grumbled into the phone, rolling her eyes. "You think you had one of those weirdo nightmares that come true?"

"Uh... yeah. How far are you from Saginaw?"

"Saginaw?" Jayne snorted. "A couple hours."

"Damn it. Look... I know it's late, but... can you please just meet us there?"

Jayne sighed this time. "Give me the address."

He rattled it off, and Jayne wrote it down. "All right," she said. "We're leaving now."

"Thanks."

Jayne hung up the phone and tossed it at her stepsister. Lynn didn't stir, so Jayne stood up - wobbling slightly - and then took several long chugs from the bottle.

She screwed the lid back on, set the bottle back on the table, and slid the notebook she'd been reading back into the bag where she and Lynn kept Russ's notes. Then she flicked on the lights, took the TV off mute, and slapped her sister's mattress.

"Wake up!" she hollered.

Lynn jumped, sitting straight up in bed, and looked around the room in confusion. "What's going on?" she asked, voice still groggy with sleep.

"Sam called," Jayne said, heading for the bathroom. "He had a nightmare, he thinks it's coming true... blah, blah, blah, we're going to Michigan."

"What?" Lynn was awake now and crawling out of bed. She stumbled a little towards her duffel bag, glancing around the room.

"Jaynie, you've been drinking."

"Yep. You're driving. Crash my baby, and I will destroy you."

"If you wanted to drink, why didn't you wake me up? I would have..."

"It wasn't that kind of drinking," Jayne muttered. She gathered up her things in her bathroom and then reappeared in the bedroom, heading for her duffel.

Lynn sighed. "We're going to Michigan?"

"Yeah. Before some dude's garage tries to kill him."

"Run that by me again?"

Jayne sighed harshly, packing her stuff carelessly. "Sam had a nightmare that some invisible entity trapped some dude in a garage and killed him. You know - one of _those_ nightmares. He wants to go save said dude and he wants us to help. Address is on the nightstand."

She dug her keys out of her jeans and tossed them Lynn's way. Her stepsister caught them instinctively, flinching.

"You're driving."

Jayne went back to packing.

Lynn stared at her a moment, and then started packing as well.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in the truck, Lynn behind the wheel, Jayne sprawled out in the passenger seat. Lynn put the truck in drive and rammed it, speeding towards the interstate.

"Don't hit a deer," Jayne said.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "You want to tell me what this is all about?"

"I already told you what I know. You want details, call your boyfriend."

"I'm not talking about the late night road trip. You want to explain to me what provoked you to play drinking games to the George Foreman infomercial?"

"I wanted to drink. Sue me."

"Jaynie, if something happened... if something's wrong..."

"Everything's fine. Unless your name is Jim Miller and you live in Saginaw, Michigan. Now, will you can it and let me sleep?"

Jayne flopped back against the seat and closed her eyes. Lynn sighed, clearly irritated.

"Fine," she said tightly.

Jayne wriggled around in the seat, leaning against the window. Her vision was blurry and her head was foggy, but she was sober enough to know she needed to sleep some of this drunk off before they hit Saginaw.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, folding her arms around her chest. Felt herself drifting off.

_Cambion_.

Her eyes flew open. She stared listlessly at the dashboard.

She shouldn't have gone looking for trouble.

* * *

There were cops parked outside the Miller house by the time Janis rumbled to a stop on the side of the street. A large crowd was already gathered by the garage, watching the cops talk with the family.

Lynn stared at the crowd. Shut down the engine.

"Fuck," she whispered.

She hit Jayne's arm. Her stepsister started awake, sitting up straight in the seat.

"What?" Jayne asked.

"We're here," Lynn said. She gestured at the crowd. "Looks like we got here too late."

Jayne blinked a little, and then took a look at the Miller house.

"Shit," she sighed.

"Dean and Sam are already here," Lynn announced.

"Great," Jayne grumbled. "Let's go."

Her stepsister swung open the passenger side door and stumbled down from the truck. Lynn rolled her eyes, climbing down from the cab and hurrying around the bumper.

"Are you ok?"

Jayne shrugged her off. "I'm fine."

"You can stay in the truck."

"What's the matter?" Jayne smirked. "Am I going to embarrass you?"

Lynn pursed her lips. "I don't know. Are you?"

"I said I'm fine," Jayne retorted. "Seriously, the ride sobered me up. Can we just get this over with?"

Lynn sighed. "Yeah."

The two of them made their way towards the Impala. Dean and Sam were leaning against the old car, watching the house and the crowd.

"Hey," Lynn offered as they drew nearer.

Dean and Sam looked up at her voice. "You guys made it, huh?" Dean called.

Lynn reached the brothers, her stepsister two steps behind. "Yeah. Looks like we didn't make it here fast enough, though."

"Yeah, well," Dean said. "Neither did we."

Long silence.

"So... what happened?" Lynn asked.

Dean glanced Sam's way. Sam was staring at the ground, his hands jammed in his coat pockets.

"They're calling it a suicide," Dean told her. "Whole neighborhood is shocked, talking about how he seemed so normal... you know, the usual."

Another silence.

"So?" Jayne spoke up. "Any theories on what did it?"

Dean shrugged. "Angry spirit... poltergeist... could be anything. Hell, maybe it was really suicide."

"No it wasn't," Sam said insistently. "I'm telling you, Dean, I watched that man die. I watched the garage door shut on its own, I watched the car doors lock and the engine start... something killed Jim Miller, all right? Something invisible."

Long silence.

"Ok then," Dean finally said. "Something killed Jim Miller. But there's nothing we can do about it now. I say we get a motel room, catch a few hours sleep, and then work this out in the morning."

"I should have been able to stop it," Sam shook his head, gnawing on his knuckles. "I mean, I've got to be having these visions for a reason, right? Why would I see Jim Miller die if I couldn't save him?"

"I don't know, Sam."

"I should have been able to stop it. We should have been faster."

"Sam, you heard that woman outside the house. The guy died nearly two hours ago. There was no way!"

Sam shook his head, leaning on the Impala, elbows on the roof of the car. He fell silent.

Lynn watched him. Any other day, she'd be over there rubbing his back, trying to tell him this wasn't his fault.

Not tonight. Not after...

She knew it wasn't his fault, this whole Jim Miller mess, and she wished he would see that too. But she didn't have it in her to comfort him tonight. Not after Nebraska. Not after...

It was too awkward. It was possibly too late.

"Tomorrow we'll look into the history of the house, the property," Dean was saying. "Check out the house, see if it sparks a reading on the EMF, talk to the family."

"Dean, you saw them," Sam said. "They're devastated. They aren't going to want to talk to us."

Lynn glanced towards the Miller house. A middle-aged blonde woman wearing a bathrobe was sobbing against the chest of a balding man with a beer gut. A young man, about Sam's age, with curly blonde hair was leaning against the house, staring vacantly at the road.

He was right. They were not going to want to talk.

"Maybe you're right," Dean said. "But I think I know who they will talk to."

Lynn glanced at him. He smirked. She knew right away Dean had a bad idea up his sleeve.

"Let's just get out of here," he went on. "We'll deal with this in the morning."

Sam nodded once. Then he stalked around to the passenger side of the car, threw open the door, and took a seat. Lynn saw him hunched over, knuckles in his mouth again.

Dean sighed and shook his head. "We'll follow you," Lynn spoke up.

Dean glanced her way and nodded. Lynn headed for the truck, regretting the decision to come out here. It felt like a family thing - a Winchester family thing. For Winchesters only, for them to figure out their family issues. It didn't seem to matter that Sam's nightmares possibly had some bearing on Stephen's... Stephen's fire-starting abilities.

Her family was so fucked up.

Jayne didn't follow Lynn right away - just watched her walk towards the truck, shoulders hunched dejectedly, keys dangling from her hand.

She understood dejection right about now. She understood concern, fear, doubt.

Sam was a mess. Dean was a mess too, even if she was the only one who could see it. And Lynn had been a mess since she found that damn death certificate.

As for herself? Well, Jayne had spent the night drinking alone and reading the same page of Russ' journal over and over again.

She was still kind of tipsy.

She was obviously as big a mess as the rest of them.

"So," Dean said conversationally, leaning against the car. "Drinking alone, huh?"

She shrugged. "You know I prefer to be by myself."

He smirked. Laughed a little. "Bad news?"

"You might say that," she returned evenly. "Bad news for you too?"

It was his turn to shrug. "Yeah, well... not like Sam's weirdo visions are anything new."

"First time he's had such a random one, though."

Dean shrugged again. "Yeah."

Quiet.

"Well," Jayne said, taking a step towards her truck. "Tomorrow then."

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

She turned and started walking. She heard the Impala door open and close. She made it to the truck where Lynn was sitting in the driver's seat, the engine already running.

"I noticed you didn't have any comforting words for your boyfriend," Jayne commented dryly as she slid into the passenger seat.

"So not a good time, Jayne."

Jayne fell silent. Lynn shifted into drive. Then they followed the Impala around the crowd and down the street.

* * *

Dean's latest idea had brought both him and Sam to a whole new low.

Sam had told his brother this, but Dean seemed unconcerned that impersonating a priest could be grounds for an eternity in purgatory.

The cover worked, of course. Mrs. Miller had let them right into the living room, sat them down in the midst of the wake, gave them coffee and snacks.

Dean had made one too many over-the-top comments about God and the Lord's plan, and he'd stuffed one too many snacks into his face. It pained Sam to think what Dean was saying right now to Mrs. Miller.

But he had his own problems. Sam sat down in front of the young man by the window. He had curly blonde hair, and couldn't be much older than Sam himself. He was a little too pale, Sam observed, and his eyes had a vacant look.

His name was Max, and he wasn't really in the mood for sharing.

Sam knew how to work with this, though. It was one of his many gifts.

"What was your dad like?" he asked Max.

"Just a normal dad."

"Yeah."

This wasn't going too well.

"You live at home now?"

"Yeah. I'm trying to save up for school, but it's hard."

Long silence.

"So…" Sam said, painfully. "When you found your dad…"

Max sniffed. "I woke up. I heard the engine running… I don't know why he did it."

"I know it's rough," Sam sympathized. "Losing a parent. Especially when you don't have all the answers."

Max just nodded.

Sam began to wonder if he and Dean were going to find any answers themselves.

* * *

Lynn sighed, scrolling down through endless newspaper articles on her laptop, leaning back in the chair at the small table under the window.

"Find anything?" Jayne asked from across the table.

Lynn shook her head. "That house hasn't had bad press since it was built. You?"

"Property's clean. No graveyards, Indian burial grounds, battlefields, violent deaths, or local legends of any sort. Looks like we got ourselves nothing but a big steamy pile of normal."

"I just don't understand. If Sam really saw what he says he saw, then what the hell killed Jim Miller?"

"Got me by the ass."

They sat silently for a moment. "Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with the house or the land," she said after a while. "Maybe it has something to do with Jim Miller himself."

Lynn looked up at her sister, light bulbs going on over her head. "Right. Like something targeted him specifically."

"Or his family."

"Like witches?"

Jayne blinked. "Witches?" she repeated.

"Well, why not?"

"You trying to tell me Saginaw's gone all double, double, toil and trouble?"

"We've run up against witches before. They could be your standard issue, black magic, Satan worshipping witches... or maybe even a hoodoo practitioner."

Jayne frowned. Lynn bit her lip and looked down at her laptop. "Hoodoo?" Jayne asked doubtfully. "In Michigan?"

"Why not Michigan?"

"Well, I don't know... it's Michigan."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "White people practice hoodoo too, Jayne. Look at Deedee."

"Yeah, but Deedee works the protection arts. She's not really into spell work. And when did I mention white people?"

"It could still be hoodoo. Or witches."

"Witches. Right. Okay, we'll mark those two down on the list of possibilities. What else?"

"I don't know."

"Well... what about curses?"

"Curses? What, like Jim Miller was the last person to open King Tut's tomb?"

"Shut up. We've hit curses before. And you're the one over there with all the witch hunt talk."

Lynn sighed. "I guess we'll have to wait for Sam and Dean to get back from the Millers. See what they found out. Maybe then we can think up something that makes sense."

"Yeah."

The two of them lapsed into silence. Lynn began typing other searches into her Google toolbar, hoping to uncover new results.

"So... you heard from Rufus lately?"

Lynn looked up at her stepsister in surprise. Jayne wasn't really looking at her... she was pretending to be fascinated by the county paperwork in her hands... but Lynn saw the glances Jayne was sneaking out of the corner of her eye.

"Why would I have heard from Rufus?" Lynn asked carefully.

Jayne shrugged. "Don't know. Just thought he might have called... or you might have called him."

Lynn stared at Jayne for a moment, and then lowered her eyes to the laptop monitor. There was a long silence.

"Did you find anything else out about your mother?"

Lynn looked at Jayne again. "What do you mean?"

Jayne finally met her stepsister's eyes. "Well, you were really upset about her death certificate," she said. "But then we got all caught up in the Winchester's bullshit... you know, Dean's accident and that faith healer in Nebraska... and then you never brought it up again."

Long silence again.

"Yeah," Lynn finally said. "Rufus called. He said you yelled at him."

Jayne snorted. "He did, huh?"

"Yeah. And he told me what he knew. Or at least, what he claimed to know."

"What, you don't believe him?"

"Well, I don't know. I mean... the guy keeps lying to us. I'm starting to think..."

"Look, I don't like being lied to either. But Rufus can't help it, ok? He's just trying to do right by Russ."

Again, they sat silently.

"What did he say?" Jayne asked. "About your mom?"

Lynn shrugged. "Dad met her on a hunt."

"Well of course he did. How is that relevant?"

"Rufus says Dad was investigating some big hoodoo witch gone dark side in Brooklyn. He thinks my mom was mixed up in it somehow."

"What do you mean, mixed up in it?"

Lynn sighed harshly. "I don't know, all right? Rufus seems to think that she was practicing hoodoo, that she was messing with dark stuff... I don't know. All he could tell me for sure was that my mother died falling out of her apartment window. He couldn't even tell me if it was an accident, or a suicide, or a murder."

More silence.

"He tell you why Russ lied to us?"

"He doesn't know that either. Something about protecting us, I assume. My mother was into something dark, according to Rufus. Dad didn't want us mixed up in that. He took me in, right after I was born, right after marrying Ana. My mom died a year later."

Jayne frowned. "Russ just took you?"

"Rufus made it sound that way. But I got what he didn't say. I don't think Inez wanted me."

Another long silence.

"I'm sure that's not true."

"Don't try to be nice right now."

"I'm not! I'm just saying... I doubt she didn't want you."

"Well, I doubt that she did."

"Lynn, we don't have all the facts. Could be that Russ didn't give her much of a choice."

"Could be that whatever she was working was just a little more important to her than I was."

"Lynn..."

"Stop trying to comfort me, Jaynie. You have no idea what I'm going through right now."

They were quiet again.

"Right," Jayne said finally, snorting. "I have no idea what it feels like to know one of your parents didn't want you."

Lynn looked up from her computer. "That's not what I meant."

"My dad split on my mom," Jayne went on. "He didn't want to have me, he didn't want to know me - he split. At least you have a name, a back story - hell, an excuse. I don't even know who that asshole was."

Lynn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I know, Jayne. I didn't mean... look, your dad split, ok? And that was... uncool. And you're messed up about it, I know."

"I'm not messed up about it," Jayne snapped. "I don't care. I had a dad - your dad. I was just pointing out that you're not the only one who was abandoned. Don't give me this 'I couldn't possibly understand' bullshit."

Lynn sighed again. "But you can't. I mean... your dad split, but.. but it's more than that for me, Jaynie. My mom, she... she was messing with dark stuff. She was... she might have been one of the things we hunt. She might have been... she might have been capable of darkness, you know? And I... that would mean... I might have that in me."

A pause.

"You don't have that in you," Jayne told her. "You couldn't. If anyone here was going to go dark side, I think we all know it would be me."

"Yeah, right."

"You're way too good a person for that crap, ok? You care about people and their feelings and you try to help and... And you're not capable of darkness, all right? Let's knock that notion right now."

Lynn fell silent, staring at her keyboard. Jayne kept going.

"As for your mom? We have no idea what really happened. Even Rufus doesn't seem able to give us any real answers. None of what you just assumed is necessarily true."

"Then what is the truth?"

"I don't know," Jayne replied. "But we're going to find out."

And that was the last either of them spoke on the subject. The door swung open and in walked Sam and Dean, decked out in full blown priest's attire.

Jayne snorted. "Look. It's a walking contradiction. You two should really be in a Starburst's commercial."

"Shut it," Dean snapped.

"Find anything?" Lynn asked.

Sam sighed and shook his head. "Not so much. No one's seen anything weird, the house has no strange problems, and the EMF came up empty. You?"

"Same," Lynn said.

"Great," Dean sighed, yanking off his collar and pulling the black shirt over his head. "Now what?"

Lynn raised an eyebrow at the sight of Dean's well-sculpted arms bulging out of his wife beater. She glanced at Sam.

Sam's were better, she decided. Sam was an asshole, but his arm muscles were better.

Jayne wasn't watching the oldest Winchester's strip show. She was staring very intently at the paperwork in front of her. Lynn rolled her eyes. Her stepsister wasn't fooling anyone.

"We're thinking something targeted Jim Miller specifically," Jayne replied. "Witches, curses… who knows."

"That makes sense," Sam murmured. "Yeah. We should definitely try working that angle."

He was loosening his collar, peeling off his disguise as well. Lynn averted her eyes as he stripped down to his own wife beater and his boxers.

Maybe it was time to leave.

"Do you want us to go?" she asked as Dean dropped his slacks too. "Um… you're kind of just…"

_Half naked_, she finished silently.

Dean winked at her. "Nah. Stay. You know you want to."

Jayne snorted, still focused on the paper in front of her. Lynn still wasn't buying her act. "Want to what?" she asked dryly. "Lose my lunch?"

"Deny it all you want, Goldilocks. You want me."

"Nope. Not even a little."

"Lies."

Lynn focused way too hard on her laptop monitor as the banter between Dean and Jayne progressed. Sam, thankfully, had gathered a change of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Dean was making no attempt to cover himself. He leaned against the table, two inches from Jayne's knee, still in wife beater and boxers.

"Just give in, Goldilocks. Admit it, and I'll go easy on you."

"Ha. You want to know what I think? I think _you_ want _me_."

"Oh, really. That so? Well, now it all makes sense. I knew you wanted me… and now you're twisting it around on me, trying to make your move."

"That's the lamest attempt at denial I have ever heard."

He was way too close to Jayne, and Jayne was somehow staying completely cool. Lynn eyed her stepsister enviously, wondering how the hell she did it. If Jayne didn't make a move, _she_ was going to jump Dean Winchester.

"You know it's true," Dean smirked. "Stop trying to get in my pants; it's pathetic."

"It won't work."

"What won't work?"

"This. Reverse psychology doesn't work when the other party is on to you."

"What reverse psychology? You _do_ want me."

"_So_ the other way around."

"Oh, all right. You got me. Nothing turns me on more than seeing you in that ugly ass flannel shirt."

"I know. I can see it in your eyes."

"Every time I see you in it, I just want to rip it right off."

"Not exactly helping your case, Dean."

Lynn sighed harshly. "Can you two move the foreplay somewhere else? Some of us are trying to concentrate. Those of us would also like Dean to put on some more clothes."

"Aha," Dean smirked. "You both want me."

"Get dressed, you asshole."

Dean just kept smirking, ignoring Lynn's insult, and swaggered off to follow orders.

Jayne smiled at her paper.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "You two are so annoying," she hissed under her breath.

Jayne looked surprised. "Really? I think we're funny."

"No. You're annoying. Can you two just consummate already? I can't take the banter anymore; it gives me migraines."

"There will be no consummating," Jayne snapped as quietly as possible, glancing furtively in Dean's direction. "It's a joke. Nobody wants anybody."

Lynn snorted. "Yeah. Ok. Liar."

Jayne glowered at her, but Sam reappeared in the room before she could say anything. He took a seat at the table, pulled some of the papers towards him, and began frowning in concentration.

Lynn glanced at him, and then returned to her laptop, suddenly hyper-aware of the hair on the back of her neck.

Stupid Sam. Stupid Dean. Stupid Jayne and Dean. And more importantly, stupid Sam.

This was so not her day.


	41. BFFs

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to Lov3good, angeleyenc, SingingInTheRain1989, Spelllesswonder29, Penny, ThreeMoons, Nelle07, sage1993, Joan J., Supernatural94, marky deedee, BlueEyedPisces, Padme4000, Carver Edlund, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, deansbabygirl934, legrowl, supernatural94, and M*YP for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 41: BFFs

The Winchester's motel room looked the way it always did mid-hunt. Newspaper clippings tacked to the walls, along with maps and county records. Dean's gun collection spread out on the bed before him as he cleaned everything and anything. Sam pacing, throwing out various suggestions, papers clenched in his fist.

Of course, Dean noted, it didn't used to be typical for Jayne Gibson and Lynn Juarez to be sprawled out in the room as well. But over the past few months… well, it was no longer surprising to see them here. Lynn hunched over her laptop at the table by the window, fingers flying and brow furrowed, was as commonplace as Sam's pacing and feverish muttering. The sight of Jayne kicking back in one of the chairs around the room, boots propped up on whatever happened to be in front of her, frowning quietly and speculatively at the research wall was as familiar to him as the sight of all his guns laid out and waiting to be cleaned.

What was not commonplace was Sam's wincing and the way his hand kept going to his head. Dean frowned, watching, wondering what his deal was. Maybe this case was giving him a migraine.

Hell, it was giving Dean an ulcer. He was certain it was an ulcer and not acid reflux caused by that giant burrito he'd eaten earlier, no matter what Sam said.

Suddenly, Sam let out a loud cry of pain, clutching his forehead.

"Sam?" Dean called, concerned. "What's wrong with you?"

"_Ah_ – my head…"

"Sam?" Lynn asked, getting to her feet.

Dean raced to Sam's side as his brother tumbled to the floor beside his bed. He hit the ground on his knees, clutching Sam's shoulder. "What is it? Talk to me!"

Sam's eyes went open, went wide, went totally vacant. "Sam!" Dean bellowed.

Sam slumped against the nightstand, staring unseeingly, and didn't respond.

"What the crap…?" he heard Jayne mutter from behind him.

Lynn raced over to Sam and Dean, kneeling beside them. She gripped Sam's shoulder, her eyes reflecting the panic Dean was feeling in his gut.

"Sam?" she demanded. "Sam! Oh, god…"

"What's happening to him?" Dean thundered, knowing even as he asked that it was a pointless question. Neither Lynn nor Jayne would have any more answers than he did.

Jayne walked up behind him. She stood there, silent.

"Should we get an ambulance?" Lynn asked in a whisper.

Dean shook his head helplessly.

And then Sam snapped out of it.

His vacant eyes became alert once again and he sat up straighter, gasping and looking around.

Dean was still clutching his brother's arm; Lynn was still gripping Sam's shoulder. Sam was panting, hissing through the pain, panic in his eyes.

"It's happening again!" he exclaimed. "Something's going to kill Roger Miller!"

Dean stared at him. Lynn stared at him. Dean couldn't see Jayne's face, but he was sure she was staring at Sam too.

Again, Dean's handle on things slipped. It was slipping too often lately, and it was slipping almost entirely because of Sam, although occasionally his father was to blame.

He had only just gotten used to the idea that Sam had nightmares that sometimes came true… well, not really used to it, but he was working towards accepting it. But now, if Sam was going to start having these visions while he was awake, if he was going to start freaking out randomly in strange places…

This whole case was getting too weird for him. At that moment, Dean was positive the churning in his stomach was an ulcer.

It took mere seconds for them to pile into the Impala. Sam called 411 on the way for Roger Miller's address. He looked like shit warmed over.

When he admitted he was scared, when he admitted how painful the visions were getting… Dean didn't really know what to say. He stumbled over a few cliché phrases of comfort, cursing the silence in the backseat, wishing Lynn or Jayne had something to add.

Sam freaked out anyway. He wanted to know why he was connected to the Millers, why he was watching them die… and Dean didn't know what to tell him, because he didn't know the answers to any of Sam's questions, and he wanted to figure this shit out as badly as Sam did.

But Sam was scared. That was the important thing; Dean's little brother was scared. And that meant it was Dean's job to not be scared, no matter how scared he might be.

So when Sam called him on his too calm exterior, and asked him if all this psychic crap freaked him out, Dean lied.

"No," he told Sam. "This doesn't freak me out."

* * *

_Crack!_

_Splat!_

Lynn jumped a foot in the air, freezing on the fire escape landing as a window one floor up slammed shut.

She rounded the railing, ducking out from behind Sam, who had stopped before her on the landing, equally frozen, staring at the window in question.

The window in question was splattered in bright red blood. Lynn covered her mouth, gagging, and stumbled backwards into the wall behind the fire escape.

It had all been for nothing. The too fast drive to Roger Miller's apartment, the pleading with the stubborn man to let them in, the race around the back of the building, Dean kicking in the gate, the mad dash up the fire escape, floor after floor, so many she lost count.

Jayne put a steadying hand on her shoulder. Lynn swallowed and shook her head.

Dean darted past Sam and climbed the last few steps to the apartment window. He stared at the blood. He stared into the flowerbox outside the window.

_The head_.

Lynn closed her eyes, gagging again, keeping her lips clamped shut to muffle the reflex. Her stepsister squeezed her shoulder, and Lynn forced her eyes open.

Sam climbed a few more steps, frowning at the window.

Dean whipped out a handkerchief from his pocket and shoved it at Sam. "Start wiping off your fingerprints," he ordered. "We don't want the cops to know we were here. Go!"

Sam took the rag, complying without a word. He looked sick to his stomach. Lynn took the order too, glad for direction. She pulled out her own handkerchief and started wiping down the rails.

"I'm going to check out the inside," Dean announced. He pushed open the window along the fire escape – the clean window – using another cloth to keep the window frame free of his prints. Then he ducked inside.

Sam watched him go, and then stared at the blood staining the window, streaming down the wall under the flowerbox. He grimaced and shook his head.

"Someone should go with Dean," Lynn whispered. "In case whatever it was is still…"

"You want to?" Jayne asked from where she was wiping down the railing. "Get away from…"

She gestured lamely at the blood.

Lynn shook her head, swallowing too hard. "No," she said. "No, I'll be ok. You go."

Jayne frowned. "You sure?"

Lynn nodded.

Jayne studied her a moment, and then she nodded too. She climbed the steps, brushing past Sam, and then hopped into the apartment through the open window.

Sam was silent as he wiped down prints, staring at the flowerbox.

Lynn wiped one spot on the rail too hard for too long. She gnawed on her lower lip. Finally, she climbed the few steps to where Sam was standing and put her hand on his arm.

He jumped about five feet in the air.

"Sorry!" she hissed urgently, wincing with apology. "Sorry, I just…"

She trailed off, not knowing what to say, what she was just about to do.

He stared at her. He nodded once and started wiping again.

Her hand was still on his arm. Sam was ignoring it beautifully. He made no comment regarding the appendage, did not to try to shake it off… he just went about his business as though her hand wasn't there. It was an odd response, one that felt mildly like rejection and at the same time encouragement.

Lynn stared at her hand. "We did our best," she said lamely.

One bitter snort. That was all the response she got.

In the back of her mind, she was remembering Nebraska. It was hanging over her like some dark, ominous cloud, threatening to force her to retreat back inside herself, to let Sam deal with his own shit.

But the blood on that window… the head inside the flowerbox that she was trying desperately not to look at… the pained, repulsed, grief-stricken expression on Sam's face…

It was all just a little more important than Nebraska, wasn't it?

"I know nothing I say is going to make a difference right now," she told him gently. "But I'll say it anyway… this isn't your fault."

He stopped wiping the railing and looked at her.

There were unshed tears shining in his dark green eyes. "What's the point of all this?" he asked her, sounding just like a scared little boy. "Why would I see it if I can't stop it? It doesn't make any sense."

She shook her head. "I don't know, Sam. I just don't know."

He looked at his feet. She stood there, uselessly, hand on his arm. She thought about telling him her story. Telling him about Inez, and the hoodoo, and the death certificate… her fears that her mother had delved into the dark side, and that somehow, someday, she was going to wind up doing something similar.

She didn't tell him any of that. Partly because she was afraid to. Partly because it felt like an inappropriate time, despite any possibility that her personal crap might be comforting for him to hear.

Bottom line… venting about her mother would help her, not Sam. That's what she decided, ultimately. Her crap could wait until it was her turn to be sad and desperate and terrified. This was Sam's turn right now. They were going to talk about Sam's crap, and Sam's crap only.

Except neither one of them was talking. Because neither one of them knew what to say.

So she just stood there, silently, holding his arm with one hand and wiping prints off the railing with the other.

He started wiping things again too. He didn't move away from her touch.

She took that as a good sign, and tried not to worry.

* * *

"What are you doing in here?"

Jayne looked up in surprise at Dean's voice as she ran her EMF over the kitchen counter. He'd been in the living room only moments before, and now he was leaning around the corner, frowning at her in confusion.

She shrugged. "Lynn's idea, not mine. She thought you shouldn't be poking around in here alone."

"She's worried about me, huh?"

He was smirking, looking smug. Jayne smirked back.

"Yep," she said. "So I agreed to come in too, keep an eye on you, watch out for that big bad unknown entity lurking around in here… you know, just in case I need to rescue the damsel in distress."

"Damsel?" he repeated, a smirk still playing around his lips. He leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. "Really? I'm oddly flattered."

Jayne shook her head, amused, and returned her attention to the EMF. "Anything so far?" she asked.

"Nope. Place is as clean as the Miller house."

"Fantastic."

They lapsed into quiet, Jayne moving away from the kitchen, trying really hard not to look at Roger Miller's decapitated corpse where it lay sprawled out on the once white, now red linoleum.

She had a stronger stomach than Lynn. She had a lot less sentimentality too. But still… headless, bloody corpse? Not exactly high art.

She joined Dean in the living room. He too was pointedly not looking at the body in the kitchen. "What do you think we're dealing with?" he asked her.

Jayne shrugged. "Lynn suggested witches, or hoodoo… see anything like a hex bag or a weird symbol or…"

"Nah," Dean shook his head. "Nothing like that."

"Lovely. Well, I'm sticking with my curse theory."

"You do that," he returned, picking on her a little. Jayne shot him an annoyed look over her shoulder that she didn't really mean – as much as she hated to admit it. Dean Winchester had a way of getting under her skin… and unfortunately, he also had a way of not getting under her skin when he really should be.

Trying to figure out exactly how this smug, sarcastic, annoying, womanizing tough guy had ended up becoming her best friend made her brain hurt. Seriously, it defied all logic.

"I'm thinking a vengeful spirit," Dean brainstormed.

"Oh, yes. A spirit. Because the whole lack of EMF activity totally supports that theory."

"Yeah, well, maybe it's latched onto the men of the Miller family, you know? Not their property. Like a banshee or something."

"Hmm. Maybe."

They fell quiet again, roving through the apartment, heading towards the bedroom.

"I know," Dean said suddenly. "It just doesn't feel like it fits, right?"

Jayne looked at him, surprised. "No," she agreed. "None of it does."

He sighed and shook his head. "Sammy's starting to get really freaked out."

"Well, I guess he's entitled to."

"What he said in the car… it's true, you know? I mean, if Sam wasn't my brother… what he's going through right now… other hunters might…"

"Chill," she cut him off.

She knew exactly what he was getting at, what he was trying so hard to ask without asking. He wanted to know how she really felt about Sam; how she and Lynn really felt about all of this… he was scared for his brother.

Which was pretty damn silly, if you asked her. He knew perfectly well what _her_ brother was capable of.

"So the kid has visions," she shrugged. "Not exactly a hanging offense. Besides, no one needs to know about it outside the four of us."

Dean nodded.

"And anyway," she went on, keeping her tone as casual as she could. "Not like Lynn or I are in any position to get judgmental about it. I mean, Stephen…"

She trailed off, not wanting to go any further. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure where she would go.

Dean nodded again. "Right. I almost forgot."

She snorted, bitter. "Lucky you," she muttered.

They finished poking through the house in silence. Their search left them empty-handed.

It was a long climb down the fire escape and a pained walk back to the Impala. Sam and Dean were throwing out suggestions about what they were facing off with left and right. Lynn was being all too quiet, her arms folded across her chest. Jayne too was quiet, but that was pretty normal for her. She listened carefully to what Sam and Dean were saying as they all clambered back into the car and Dean started the ignition.

Nothing much changed on the ride back to the motel. By the time they pulled into the parking lot, Sam had decided they would look up where the Millers had last lived, check out their old house, and then talk to some people who might have known them.

It seemed logical enough. Jayne brooked no arguments, and neither did Lynn. The four hunters split up into their two motel rooms and got some sleep.

At least, that was the plan. Jayne didn't sleep. She lay awake for some time, staring at the ceiling. Judging by the lack of snores from Lynn's side of the room, she had a feeling her stepsister was doing the same.

It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest if Sam and Dean were laying awake too, staring at their ceiling, too anxious and confused to fall asleep.

* * *

The Impala rolled up alongside the curb and stopped. Sam threw the car into park, thoughts swirling. He glanced over at the passenger side of the car.

Lynn sat quietly beside him, her teeth working away on her lower lip, her eyes worried and trained on the windshield. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest.

It was the sort of neighborhood you saw in a big city, with houses narrow, cramped and tall, all different and yet somehow fundamentally the same. He looked at the house that matched the Miller family's old address. It was cramped and narrow and tall like its neighbors, painted blue.

Outside the car was a gray haired man raking leaves in the yard across the street from the blue house. Sam glanced at Lynn.

"Want to talk to the locals first?" he asked, voice hoarse.

She nodded, forcing a smile in his direction. "Yeah. Sounds like a plan."

They got out of the car at the same time, slamming the doors almost simultaneously, approaching the man in question with determination… everything synced and practiced, like they were Scully and Mulder.

He shook his head. Massive amounts of repressed, unresolved sexual tension… so not a good comparison.

"Hello!" Lynn called out, smiling brightly at the gray haired man.

The man looked up from his raking. He took one look at Lynn's smiling face and lit up, smiling back.

It wasn't creepy or perverse. The guy just got smiled at by a pretty woman, and he liked it.

Sam knew how he felt, because he liked it when Lynn smiled at him too.

Except he wasn't really sure if she'd ever smile at him again. He fucked up big time back in Nebraska, and even though she'd attempted to comfort him the night before, even though she had been friendly on the drive over, Sam still thought she would never forgive him.

He couldn't really blame her if she didn't.

"Hello," the man said. "You folks lose your way?"

"Not exactly," Sam smiled. "My name is Sam. This is Lynn. We wanted to ask you a few questions about the neighborhood."

Lynn nodded beside him, still smiling brightly at the older man. "It's really pretty here," she commented.

"Oh, it's a nice neighborhood," the man agreed, lighting up at Lynn's remark. "Real quiet."

"Have you lived here long?" Sam asked.

"About twenty years. Why? You two looking to buy?"

He winked.

Sam shifted uncomfortably.

"Not exactly," Lynn spoke up, giving the man another smile – this one a tad forced. "Actually, we were hoping you might remember a family that used to live across the street. The Millers?"

"Yeah," Sam added. "They had a little boy?"

The smile faded from the man's face. "Yeah, I remember them. Their brother had the place right next door."

Both Lynn and Sam turned to look at the house the man was pointing at, surprised. That was a development they had not expected.

"So what's this about?" the man asked. "That poor kid ok?"

Sam hadn't expected that question, either. "What do you mean?"

The man glanced down at the pavement, smile definitely gone now. "Well, in my life, I never saw a child treated like that. "I mean, I'd hear Mr. Miller yelling and throwing things clear across the street. He was a mean drunk. Used to beat the tar out of Max. Broke his arm two times that I know of."

Lynn looked thunderstruck. Sam felt the way she looked. "This was going on regularly?" he asked.

The man looked still more downcast. "Practically every day. In fact, that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy. But the worst part was the stepmother. She'd just stand there, checked out, never lifted a finger to protect him… I must have called the police seven or eight times. Never did any good."

They were quiet a moment. Sam could feel his head starting to throb.

"His stepmother, you said?" Lynn asked. "Then Mrs. Miller wasn't…?"

Sam clutched at his forehead, blinding pain rippling through his skull, as the neighbor shook his head. "No. I think his real mom died. Some sort of accident… car accident, I think."

Sam winced, making a small, strangled noise of pain. His head was on fire. "You ok there?" he heard the neighbor ask.

"Sam?" Lynn asked in concern. He felt her come to his side more than he saw her do anything. She grabbed his arm, one hand resting on his chest. "Sam?"

"I'll be fine," he said breathlessly. "I'll be fine."

He took his hand from his head, forcing his eyes open. The sky was overcast, but the gray, dim light still burned.

"Thank you for your time," Lynn told the man with the gray hair, sincere but firm.

"Yes," Sam nodded as she took his arm and practically dragged him back towards the Impala. "Thank you."

Lynn flung open the door to the passenger seat as the world around Sam began to go white. He felt her thrust him downwards into the car as his vision fled and his knees went weak. He sat, collapsing against the back of the seat, vaguely hearing the door slam.

And then he was gone.

* * *

"_I don't know what you mean by that… you know I never did anything…"_

_Chopchopchopchop! Celery diced to perfection on a wooden cutting board with a large knife…_

"_Exactly! You never did anything; you never stopped them… not once!"_

_Curly blonde hair… face red and distorted... angry… close to sobbing…_

_A knife swinging up, floating six feet off the ground…a frightened gasp…_

"_I'm sorry…"_

"_No, you're not. You just don't want to die."_

_Knife glinting in the gray light… swinging back and forth as it floated, in the air, in the middle of the kitchen…_

_Swish!_

_Splat!_

_Knife flying forwards, carving right through an eye… blood splattering on the white kitchen wall._

* * *

Sam Winchester woke up.

He was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala. Lynn was at the wheel, guiding the car down the residential roads, riding the back bumper of the white Grand Prix ahead of them.

She glanced at him when he gasped, struggling to sit up. "Sam?" she asked anxiously. "Are you all right?"

"Oh, crap," he muttered, staring at the car that was far too close to their front end. "Dean is going to kill me when he finds out I let you drive."

"Then we won't tell him," she retorted. "Answer me, Sam. Are you all right?"

"It's Max."

She stared.

"Eyes on the road, Lynn!"

She snapped her head back towards the windshield, but didn't back off the bumper of the Grand Prix. Sam winced.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded.

"I had another one… I…"

"Yeah, I figured that part out," she spat. "What do you mean, it's Max?"

"I saw him. He's going to kill his stepmother. We have to get to the Miller house right now!"

Lynn's fingers tightened on the wheel. Then she hit the gas, passed the car in front of them, got flipped the bird from the driver of the Grand Prix, and took a swerving, too fast left at the stop sign… a stop sign at which she didn't stop so much as pause.

"Crap, Lynn!"

"Max is killing everyone? His dad, his uncle, and now…"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, fishing his phone out of his jeans.

"How?"

"It looked like telekinesis," Sam replied, scrolling down through his address book, searching for Dean's number.

"Telekinesis? Max Miller is Carrie?"

"Yeah."

"Well… how are we going to stop him, Sam?"

"We'll talk to him… reason with him…"

"Reason with him? Sam…"

"Just get there, all right?"

She fell silent. Hit the gas harder.

Sam sighed and called Dean.

* * *

Dean flopped down heavily in the chair across the table. Jayne looked up at him, raising her eyebrow.

"I'm bored," he announced.

She shrugged. "So?"

"So why are _we_ sitting in this motel room doing research? _We're_ the field people. Sam and Lynn are the geek squad."

"Because apparently we don't play well with others," Jayne retorted. "So we're not allowed to interview the Millers' old neighbors."

"I play well with others. You're the prickly one."

Jayne snorted. "Well, I guess Sam just doesn't trust you after that stunt you pulled with the priest costume."

"That was a genius plan!"

"Sam didn't agree."

"That's because Sam's no fun."

"Probably."

"What do you got?"

"Nothing. You?"

"Same."

Silence.

"I think it's hilarious that Sam and Lynn went off together," Jayne commented, off hand. "I wonder if they're even talking right now."

"What, they have a fight?"

"Uh… yeah?"

"When?"

"When? Are you kidding me?"

He shrugged, blank faced.

Jayne stared at him incredulously. "Nebraska?"

"They got into a fight in Nebraska?"

"Wow. You know, I hate to be sexist… but maybe there's some truth to the whole guys don't notice shit theory."

"Hey, I was dying! Excuse me if I wasn't paying attention to a whole lot!"

"Yeah, yeah."

"What did they fight about?"

"I don't know if I want to say. If Sam didn't tell you, maybe you're not supposed to know."

"Seriously, Goldilocks? You gonna do me like that?"

Silence.

Dean sighed and poked her. "Come on, I want to know!"

"You're like that little boy who won't stop fussing in church."

"Tell me!"

"Lynn was pissed because Sam was ignoring her."

"Why was Sam ignoring her?"

"Because they fucked, and he regretted it."

Again, silence.

"What?"

"I think you heard me just fine."

"Sammy got laid?"

"Yeah. By my stepsister. So… please don't be a pig about it."

"I wasn't going to!"

"You so were."

"When did that happen?"

"Right before you checked out of the hospital."

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And now he's ignoring her?"

"Well, he was."

"Wow. My brother's an idiot."

"Yeah. I can finally see the family resemblance."

"Bite me."

She frowned at him. "You realize you're gossiping right now, right?"

Dean scoffed. "Am not!"

"Are too."

"Nu-uh… we're talking, not gossiping."

"This is called gossip."

"I don't gossip. Girls do that."

"And just when I think maybe you aren't a sexist jackass…"

"So is Lynn still upset?"

Jayne stared at him. He stared back.

"Well… yeah," she said quietly. "I suppose she is."

Silence.

"You know, Sammy's not like that."

"Not like what?"

"Me."

Jayne stared at him. This time, he didn't stare back.

"I'm the one who screws 'em and leaves 'em. Sam's not that guy. He wouldn't mess with your sister that way."

"Well, he did."

"Yeah, but he's not a bad guy," Dean defended his brother. "He's not. It's probably a Jessica thing."

"If your brother's not over Jessica, then he shouldn't be under Lynn. Or on top of her, whatever. I didn't get the details."

"And now I'll see that seriously disturbing mental picture every time I close my eyes. Thank you for that."

"Anytime."

Dean's phone rang. Well, actually, it played the opening notes to "Smoke on the Water." He fished the phone out of his jeans and flipped it open, putting it to his ear.

"What?"

Jayne watched his face go from mildly annoyed to sheer panic in less than two seconds.

"What? Slow down… ok. I don't… another one? You all right?"

Pause.

"You sure… wait, what? You've… _Max_? But how… what?"

Dean was flipping out. He was out of his chair and pacing, flinging one arm around, shouting nonsense.

Jayne got up slowly and took a step towards him.

He fell quiet for awhile, listening to the voice on the other end. Then he said, "All right. Ok, man. We're on our way."

He snapped the cell shut and looked her in the eye. "That was Sam," he announced. "He had another vision."

Jayne frowned. "Another one?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah. It's Max Miller. He's the killer. Apparently he's got, like… some sort of psychic power."

"Psychic power?"

Those two words shook Jayne to her core, but she didn't tell him that.

"Yeah. Telekinesis. We've got to get to the Miller house, before he ends his stepmom. Let's go."

Jayne grabbed her keys and her gun and ran for her truck. Dean was on her heels. They jumped into the truck, and Jayne turned over the engine, stomping on the gas and peeling out of the parking lot.

"I don't get it," she said as she drove. "Why's Max killing off his own family?"

"Sam said he used to get beat on when he was a kid. By his father and his uncle."

"All right… well, that explains the father and the uncle, but… what did the stepmom do?"

Dean shrugged. "Let them?"

Silence.

She weaved in and out of traffic, rounding corners at high speeds and hesitating at stops. "What are we going to about it?" she asked hesitantly.

"Stop him."

"How?"

"You know how."

Jayne did know how, and any other day of the week, she'd be right there with Dean, itching to pull a trigger and plant a bullet in the killer's brain. But this wasn't the same.

"You want to kill him."

"I don't want to kill him. But if that's what it takes…"

"Those people beat on him. Made his life a living hell. Is it really so bad…"

"Doesn't matter."

"Bull shit. It does too."

"Well, what the hell are we supposed to do, Jayne? Just let him go around killing people?"

"No…"

"Then what? You want to call the cops? Lock him up officer, he kills with the power of his mind?"

"Of course not."

"Then what? You want to talk to him? Reason with him?"

"I… not exactly."

"You want to walk away?"

Silence.

"Yes."

"Are you kidding me right now?"

"I don't know. I just… I don't know if I can really sympathize with the people he killed. If they spent his childhood kicking the crap out of him…"

"You want to take the risk he's going to kill someone else? Someone who doesn't deserve it?"

Silence.

"Tell the truth. Are you dead set on killing him because he has psychic powers?"

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"Dean… I don't want to kill this kid, ok?"

Silence.

"Yeah, well… Sam will probably agree with you, so I wouldn't worry about it."

More silence.

"You're pissed at me, aren't you?"

"No."

"Yes."

"I'm done talking about it."

Silence.

"Fine."

* * *

Sam leaned against the Impala, waiting impatiently for Dean and Jayne to arrive. Lynn stood on the other side of the car, examining her fingernails and playing with cords on her hooded sweatshirt.

They weren't talking much, and he felt weird about that. The silence wasn't awkward or unfriendly – exactly. But it wasn't comfortable either.

He'd really fucked this up, hadn't he?

A familiar rumble assailed his ears, and moments later, Jayne's old gray truck came into view. He watched anxiously as the truck came rolling down the street, swerving around the Impala and parking directly in front of it.

The engine shut down. Dean and Jayne jumped down from the cab and approached Sam and Lynn.

"Follow my lead," Sam ordered. "Don't bring your guns."

"Fuck that," Jayne said, at the same time Dean said, "No way, man."

Sam shook his head, sighing. "Will you just let me handle this? My way?"

"Look, I don't want to kill the kid either," Jayne spoke up. Sam blinked in surprise. "But you really expect me to leave my best line of defense out here? What if the Psychic Wonder loses it and goes after one of us?"

"Just… please!"

"Hey, I promise not to shoot the kid until you're done with your Dear Abby speech," Dean said. "All right? I promise I'll do things your way. But I'm bringing the gun."

It was the best promise he was going to get, so Sam conceded. "Fine," he rolled his eyes. "But don't talk. Just follow me."

They did. He rushed for the Miller house, and the other three hunters followed close on his heels.

When they burst through the front door without knocking, it was safe to say they'd shocked the crap out of Max and his stepmother.

Sam saw them standing in the kitchen, a large, shiny, familiar knife on the counter between them, and knew immediately that he and the other three hunters had just barely arrived in time.

"Fathers…?" Mrs. Miller asked in confusion, taking a step out of the kitchen. She frowned at Jayne and Lynn, who she was seeing for the first time. "Uh…?"

"What are you doing here?" Max asked, his tone low and almost… creepy.

"Uh…" Dean fumbled. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Hi," Sam said, forcing his understanding clergyman smile onto his face. "Um, Max… we were wondering if we could just talk to you outside for a few minutes?"

"What about?" Max asked.

Sam didn't like the look on Max's face. "Um… it's private," he said. "I wouldn't want to bother your mother with it."

Max looked suspiciously over Sam's shoulder at the two women he hadn't met yet.

"Who are they?" he asked.

Sam glanced back at Jayne and Lynn. He faltered.

"We're counselors for the church's YA group?" Lynn replied sweetly. Sam could have kissed her. "I'm Lynn, this is Jayne. That's actually what we're here about… the YA program? We thought you might want to get involved, give back a little… you'd be surprised how much it helps with the grieving process."

Max stared at her.

"Please," Sam added, smiling, nodding, trying to will Max out the front door with his eyes. "It'll only take a minute."

Max stared at Sam.

"Ok," he said finally.

Slowly, Max made his way towards the door. Sam smiled at him reassuringly, falling into step behind him. Lynn gave him a smile too from her place by the door.

Dean attempted to smile too, but Jayne didn't. Sam noticed her slipping off into the shadows, watching Max carefully. Dean reached for the doorknob.

The door was only opened an inch before it suddenly jerked itself from Dean's hand and slammed shut. All around the bottom floor of the house, the windows and blinds and shutters began snapping shut.

"You're not priests!" Max shouted.

Dean whipped out his gun.

The gun yanked itself out of Dean's grip and hit the floor, sliding across the foyer and stopping at Max's feet.

"Max!" Mrs. Miller exclaimed as her windows shut themselves up all around her and her stepson reached for Dean's gun. "Max! What's going on?"

Jayne pulled her gun.

It flew from her hand, across the entrance way, and beamed Mrs. Miller in the head. The older woman stumbled backwards into the kitchen counter, bouncing off and crumpling to the floor.

"Shut up!" Max shouted at her. "Just shut up!"

The gun slid across the kitchen tile, landing somewhere under the refrigerator.

Max pointed Dean's pistol at the four hunters by the staircase.

"Max, calm down!" Sam exclaimed.

"Who are you?"

"We just want to talk to you."

"Yeah, right!" Max shouted hysterically, clutching his temple and waving the gun around recklessly. "That's why you brought this!"

The situation was escalating fast, and Sam knew he had to bring it back under control somehow. He had to talk Max down, get him to stop pointing that gun around. Talk to him, try to make him understand there were better ways he could be using his powers.

"That was a mistake," he said. Dean was beside him, antsy, and Sam stepped in front of his brother, trying to bring Max's focus entirely on himself. "All right? So was lying about who we were, but no more lying Max! Please! Just hear me out!"

"About what?"

Sam saw Jayne by the living room window, eyeing Max's unguarded back. He shot her a warning look, and she rolled her eyes, but backed down.

"I saw you do it," he told Max.

Max's hand on the gun shook.

"I saw you kill your dad and your uncle before it happened."

"What?"

"I'm having visions, Max, about you."

"You're crazy."

"So you weren't going to launch a knife at your stepmom?" Sam asked, tapping the skin under his eyes with his finger. "Right here? Is it that crazy, Max? Look at what you can do!"

Max looked like a wild animal backed into a corner. He glanced all around him helplessly, still shaking the gun.

"Max, I was drawn here all right? I think I'm here to help you."

"No one can help me!"

"Let me try. We'll just talk, ok? We'll get everyone else out of here."

"Uh-uh," Dean interceded. "No way."

The chandelier above Sam and Dean's heads began to shake. Both brothers looked up, wincing. Lynn backed away from the center hall, moving towards her stepsister.

"Nobody leaves this house!" Max shouted.

"And nobody has to, all right?" Sam said. "They'll just… they'll just go upstairs."

"Sam, I'm not leaving you alone with him," Dean argued.

"Yes you are," Sam returned, before focusing on Max again. "Look, you're in charge here. We all know that. No one's going to do anything that you don't want to do. But I'm talking five minutes here, man."

"Sam…" Dean growled.

"Five minutes," Max agreed.

The chandelier stopped shaking. Everyone stared at the boy with the gun in shock.

"Go," he ordered.

Sam shot Dean a pleading look. His brother wasn't happy about it, but Dean stomped to the kitchen and scooped Mrs. Miller off the floor. Her head was bleeding, and she could barely stand on her own.

Lynn headed into the kitchen to help. Between the two of them, they managed to get the older woman upright. The two of them supported her to the staircase and half carried her to the second floor.

Jayne followed them up slowly, her eyes first on Max, and then on Sam. Sam nodded at her. She nodded back, although she didn't look anywhere near convinced, and continued the climb up the stairs.

Sam turned to Max. Max lowered the gun. The two of them took seats in the living room.

Awkward would be an understatement.

Max levitated a letter opener off the end table by the sofa he was sitting on. He turned it point down and let it stand on the tabletop, staring at it.

"Look," Sam said. "I can't even begin to understand what you went through…"

"That's right. You can't."

"Max. This _has_ to stop."

"And it will. After my stepmother."

"No," Sam argued. "You need to let her go."

"Why?"

"Did she beat you?"

"No. But she never tried to save me. She's a part of it too."

"Look, what they did to you… what they all did to you… growing up… they deserved to be punished…"

"Growing up?" Max snapped. "Try last week!"

He stood off the couch, and lifted his sweatshirt. Sam had to avert his eyes. His torso was a mass of black and blue bruises, one long, angry red line running diagonally across the top of his ribcage. "My dad still hit me," he growled at Sam. "Just in places people couldn't see."

He lowered the shirt and took his seat again on the couch. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

"I'm sorry," Sam murmured.

Max stared at the knife still standing on the table. It had begun to spin, madly, like a basketball on the finger of a Harlem Globetrotter. His eyes were wet, and his breathing shallow. "When I first found out I could move things," Max said. "It was a gift. My whole life I had been helpless, but now I had this. So last week, Dad gets drunk, and he beats me to hell. First time in a long time. And then I knew what I had to do."

"Why didn't you just leave?"

The knife clattered to the table. "It wasn't about getting away. Just knowing that they'd still be out there… it was about not being afraid. When my dad used to look at me, there was hate in his eyes. Do you know what that feels like?"

Sam's gut clenched. "No."

"He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life… for my mom's death..."

"Why would he blame you for your mom's death?"

Max leaned forward, trembling. "Because she died in my nursery, while I was asleep in my crib. As if that makes it my fault!"

Sam did a double take. "She died in your nursery?"

"Yeah. There was a fire."

Sam's eyes went wide, and he started to tremble a little too. His mother… Max's mother… Jayne's mother…

"And he'd get drunk," Max pushed on. "And babble on like she died in some insane way. He said that she burned up – pinned to the ceiling!"

Sam stopped breathing for a moment. When he started up again, his breath was shallow and quick.

"Listen to me, Max," he said. "What your dad said about what happened to your mom… it's real."

"What?"

"It happened to my mom too. Exactly the same. My nursery, my crib… my dad saw her on the ceiling…"

"Then your dad must have been as drunk as mine."

"No! No, it's the same thing, Max! The same thing killed out mothers!"

"That's impossible!"

"This must be why I'm having visions during the day," Sam went on, more to himself than to Max. "Why they're getting more intense. Because you and I must be connected in some way. Your abilities… they started six, seven months ago, right? Out of the blue?"

"How did you know that?"

"Because that's when my abilities started, Max! I mean, yours seem to be much further along, but still… this… this means something! Right? I mean, for some reason, you and I… you and I were chosen."

The minute the words left his mouth, Sam felt foolish. Chosen? It sounded like a bad horror movie. Like the pilot episode to _Charmed_… or _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. But still… there had to be a reason. There had to be. He didn't believe in coincidences.

"Chosen for what?" Max asked, and Sam had to admit it was a good question.

"I don't know. But Dean… my brother and I… and Lynn and her stepsister, Jayne… it happened to them too, Max. It was their little brother. Jayne's mother died in his nursery, just like ours. And he has abilities too, just like us. Look… my brother and I… and the two of them… we've been hunting for your mother's killer, Max. And maybe we can find some answers. But you have to let us go."

Max stared.

"You've got to let your stepmother go," Sam added.

Max thought about it. Sam could see the gears turning in the other young man's mind as he lowered his eyes to the living room carpet.

Sam felt hopeful, for a split second. Then Max started shaking his head.

"No," he said. "What they did to me… I still have nightmares. I'm still scared, all the time, like I'm just waiting for the next beating."

He leapt to his feet and started rushing for the stairs. "I'm just tired of being scared! If I do this it'll be over!"

Sam got up too, chasing him. "Look, don't you get it? It won't! The nightmares won't end, Max. Not like this. It's just… more pain. And it makes you as bad as them. Max… you don't have to go through all this by yourself."

Max shook his head and looked Sam in the eye. "I'm sorry."

And then Sam was thrown backwards, into the coat closet by the stairs. The doors slammed shut in front of his face.

"No, Max!" Sam shouted, pounding on the doors.

A heavy armoire dragged itself in front of the closet, effectively sealing Sam inside.

"No! Max!"

He heard Max run up the stairs. And then splitting pain ripped through Sam's skull.

_Max walking down the hall…. the door to the master bedroom swinging slowly open, on its own…_

_Mrs. Miller sitting on the edge of the bed… Lynn dabbing at her bleeding forehead with a wet washcloth…_

_Max pulling the gun…_

_Dean stepping in front of the two of them…_

_Dean sailing backwards into the wall, shattering the drywall, hitting the floor, cussing…_

_Jayne going to his side…_

_The gun levitating in the middle of the room, cocking itself…_

_Pointing itself at Mrs. Miller… at Lynn, when she stood up, tried to put herself in front of the older woman…_

_Jayne stepping in front of both of them, ignoring the gun pointed at her head…_

"… _can't have you pointing that gun at my stepsister…"_

"… _She was supposed to protect me…"_

"… _lots of people are cowards… she wasn't the one hitting you… you want to kill one of them, you're going to have to go through me…"_

"_Ok."_

_Dean getting to his feet in the corner of the room…_

_The trigger pulling itself…_

_Dean throwing himself into Jayne's side, knocking her to the floor…_

_The gunshot echoing throughout the room… the bullet burning through Dean's forehead… the blood splattering against the bedroom wall…_

_Dean's eyes wide open, staring vacantly, as he lay dead on the floor…_

Sam's vision came back and he could see the closet door.

"No!" he shouted, throwing himself against the doors. It was a pointless move.

"No!" he roared. "Dean!"

There was a loud scraping noise outside the closet.

Sudden light streamed in through the shuttered seams of the closet door.

The armoire was no longer in Sam's way.

He stared momentarily, shocked.

Then he remembered Dean and threw his weight into the closet door, smashing his way out.

Sam ran for it, up the stairs and down the hall, desperate to save his older brother.

* * *

Jayne leaned against the bedroom wall with her arms folded across her chest, and stared at her stepsister.

Lynn was kneeling beside the large bed. Mrs. Miller sat on the edge of the bed, whimpering as Lynn dabbed at her forehead with a wet washcloth.

Dean was stationed nearby, pacing like a caged carnivore.

Her thoughts were all jumbled up. Not for the first time, she wondered if she honestly didn't know the difference between right and wrong,

Because right now, she knew that Max's father and uncle probably deserved to die.

At the very least, she couldn't blame the kid for wanting to kill them.

It was probably wrong. They were human and all that bull. But they were also a couple of whoresons of bitches, and she doubted anyone in the world was going to miss them very much.

She stared at the whimpering, fragile woman sitting on the bed.

What she did to Max… well, she couldn't blame the kid for being pissed at her either.

But it was so obvious – at least, from where Jayne stood – that this woman was not a bully. She was not abusive. She was the last person to raise a hand to anybody.

She was scared. Back when Max was growing up, the woman had probably been just as scared as the kid was.

She was a coward, not a villain.

Jayne decided that killing her would be crossing the line. It was a shaky distinction, but one she was going to stick with.

That's when the bedroom door creaked open.

Max stepped through the bedroom door, moving too slow and too calm.

He approached the bed.

_Shit_, was the only thought that went through Jayne's head.

Max pulled Dean's gun.

"Max," Mrs. Miller gasped.

Lynn got up quickly. Jayne moved off the wall.

Dean stepped determinedly between Max and the two women, staring the shaking kid down.

Then suddenly, Dean was airborne. He sailed into the bedroom wall, denting and splintering the drywall, and then hit the floor.

"Goddamn it," he muttered, trying to sit up. "Son of a bitch…"

Jayne found herself at his side before she fully realized she'd started walking. She knelt down beside him, her hand finding his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" she demanded.

He looked over her shoulder with wide eyes. Jayne followed his gaze and quickly saw why. The gun had left Max's hand, and was now floating in the air, pointed directly at Mrs. Miller.

Lynn stepped in front of the other woman. Jayne went immediately to her feet.

"Move," Max ordered Lynn.

Lynn shook her head, eyes trained on the gun as it cocked by itself, still floating in the air. "Can't do that, Max," she said quietly.

"Move!" the kid bellowed.

Jayne had already decided she wasn't going to let this kid murder his stepmother. But more importantly? There was no way in hell Max Miller was hurting her stepsister.

"Whoa, man," she said, stepping in front of Lynn and Mrs. Miller with her hand up and out. "Look, I'm not saying what you did to your dad and your uncle was wrong. Believe me; ain't no love lost there. But I can't have you pointing that gun at my sister."

"Get out of my way!" Max thundered, shaking, his face going red.

"Not a chance," she told him. "You need to put that gun down… or levitate it down, whatever… and walk away. The fight's done."

"After everything she did?" Max spat. "She never stopped them, not once! She just stood there and watched, pretended everything was all right… I was a kid! She was supposed to protect me!"

"So she was a coward," Jayne returned. "Lots of people are. We can't blame them for being scared. It's not a hanging offense. At least she wasn't the one hitting you. You got to let it go."

"I can't."

"You got to," Jayne said. "Because I'm not moving out of the way. I'm not letting you hurt my sister… or your stepmom. You want to kill one of them, you're going to have to go through me."

Max stared at her.

"Ok," he said.

He pulled the trigger.

_Bang!_

A hard body slammed into Jayne from the left as the gunshot echoed throughout the bedroom. She toppled to the floor, heavy weight on top of her, pinning her underneath it.

She twisted under the weight, rolling onto her back, trying to get away from the arm around her waist, the arm under her neck. She blinked up in shock at the face hovering over hers.

Dean.

Stupid, stupid, reckless Dean.

Panic gripped her insides as she remembered the shot, and her fingers rested on his chest, running up and down, over his tee shirt, feeling the hard muscle underneath. He stared at her, wide-eyed, looking as panicked as she felt. She tried to ask him if he was all right, but no sound came out of her mouth. She opened and closed it uselessly, her eyes traveling from his dark, beautiful green eyes, to his chest, and then back again.

Then she saw the hole in the wall, by the in suite bathroom. The dry wall was still shattered from Dean's impact, but there was no blood. There was no blood anywhere.

No one had been hit.

And Sam had appeared in the bedroom as well. He must have appeared just as Max was firing his gun, because the gun was now lying on the floor, several feet from Max Miller, and the twenty-something kid was screaming at Sam for ruining everything.

In all the confusion, she couldn't quite hear what Sam was shouting at the kid, but it sounded like he was trying to talk down a jumper. Dean was getting to his feet, and Jayne sat up, still half trapped beneath him, but intent on moving, on doing something.

The gun rose off the floor by itself – courtesy of Max's telekinetic powers – and threw itself across the room, right into Max's hand.

"No!" Sam shouted. "Max, what you're doing…. it's not the solution. It's not going to fix anything."

Dean stood. Jayne followed suit. Max stared at Sam, twitching and breathless, on the verge of sobs.

"You're right."

_Bang!_

"No!" Sam shouted.

Blood exploded on the far bedroom wall. Max Miller slumped to the floor, dead.

* * *

The cops were talking to Mrs. Miller.

Lynn and Sam had already given their statements, and they were standing behind the sofa as Mrs. Miller sat on it, trying to answer all the policeman's questions while sobbing her heart out.

"I've lost everyone," she whimpered, and Lynn's heart nearly broke in two.

Sam shook his head, eyes on the floor. Lynn resented Dean and Jayne for ducking out of the house the way they had, leaving her alone with an obviously despondent Sam Winchester. It wasn't that she objected to comforting him… she just couldn't believe their insensitivity.

It didn't occur to her that maybe they were as shook up as the rest of them.

Lynn reached out for Sam's hand and wrapped it in her own, squeezing gently.

He glanced at her, startled. Then, to her great surprise, he squeezed back.

When the cop gave them permission to go, the two of them disappeared out the front door. Lynn caught sight of Jayne and Dean leaning against Janis down by the street, talking in quiet tones.

She stood still on the porch, beside Sam. Sam wasn't moving anytime soon, she could see that right off the bat.

"Sam," she said softly. "Can you do me a favor?"

He looked surprised again. "Sure. What?"

"Can you please not torture yourself?"

Sam stared at her a moment. "What?" he asked finally.

"I know exactly what's going through your head right now," Lynn told him firmly. "And this is not your fault. That kid was messed up. You couldn't have saved him. I don't know if anyone could have."

Sam looked at the front stoop. "I should have… the way he looked at me, Lynn. I should have…"

"It's not your fault," she insisted. "And no, you aren't going to become him."

Sam lifted his head too quickly, clearly surprised. He gawked at her.

"You won't," Lynn said. "I know you won't. You're one of the best people I know. And I also know that my little brother could never do any of the things that Max did in there. So I know you're going to be ok too."

Silence.

"Lynn," Sam murmured.

"Yeah?"

"How did you…?"

"I know the way you think. Let's just leave it at that."

More silence.

"You should hate me."

"What?"

"Come on. We both remember what happened the last time we were together. I was pretty damn sure you hated me, Lynn. Why are you…?"

"I don't hate you."

"Ok."

They stood awkwardly on the porch for a moment. Sam scratched at his hair. "Lynn," he sighed. "It's ok, you know. You don't have to help me or… I know what I did. You can hate me if you need to."

She stared at him.

"Sam," she whispered, shaking her head. "I'm not going to hate you, ok? I don't think I ever could. You just… you just really piss me off sometimes, that's all."

He laughed a little, sounding sheepish. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Let's just move past all the ugly, all right?" Lynn said. "I don't really have it in me to hold grudges, anyway. Never did."

He smiled.

"Ok," he said softly. "I'd like that."

She smiled back and took his hand again, giving it a gentle, comforting squeeze.

"Good," she grinned. "I'd like that too."

* * *

Dean couldn't be in that house any longer.

That sobbing woman on the sofa, her whole family gone… the cops crawling all over the house… he had to get out.

When he stepped out the front door, he saw Jayne down by the street, her back against her truck bed, leaning on her back bumper. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was staring at the back of his car.

Dean made his way down to the street. He stepped off the curb and leaned beside her on the truck.

"Hey," he said.

She glanced briefly at him. "Hey."

Silence.

"Couldn't stand the cops, huh?" he asked jokingly.

"Nope. The fuzz, man… they make my blood boil in rage."

Her flat emotionless tone made it clear she was kidding.

Dean smirked. "Me too."

They lapsed into another silence.

"Sam saved your ass in there," Jayne remarked.

Dean scoffed. "Well, it was about time. Number of times I've saved his…"

She snorted. "Right. Sure. Uh-huh."

"Shut it, Goldilocks."

Silence.

"Was supposed to be my ass."

She didn't look at him as she spoke. Dean looked at her though.

"You're welcome."

"You think I'm going to thank you?"

"More like I was hoping."

"You fucking idiot," she hissed.

He stared.

"Don't ever try to take a bullet for me _ever_ again."

"Wow. Gratitude. Charming."

And she looked at him.

She glared at him, actually. Dean frowned at her. Jayne's lip was trembling and her eyes were wet.

"If I step in front of a gun," she told him. "Then that's my choice. And you are not supposed to throw yourself into the line of fire."

He glared back.

"So I just stand by and watch you get shot down?" he retorted. "Not happening."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you're my friend, damn it!"

Silence. Jayne's fury did not abate, but no more words came out of her mouth.

Dean broke the quiet.

"I can't just let you die."

She stared at him.

"Well, I can't just let _you_ die. How do you think I'd feel, knowing you were dead because of me?"

"Bad?"

"Obviously, smartass."

"Well, I don't give a damn. You don't die on my watch."

"Wrong. That's not how this works. _You_ don't die on _my_ watch."

Silence.

Dean stared at her. She stared back. She still looked angry, but there was something else there now. He felt it too. He couldn't name it, but its presence was undeniable.

"Well," he said finally. "We are in quite the conundrum."

She rolled her eyes and huffed, turning from him and sagging back against her truck.

"Obviously the problem would be solved if you'd just stop being reckless and moronic."

He chuckled. "Oh, really? Because I think the problem would be solved if you stopped pretending to be the lady knight."

Jayne glared at him. "If you get to be reckless, then so do I."

They were quiet for a while, glaring at one another, and yet not really glaring. Almost smiling, actually.

"How about we agree to disagree?" Dean asked amicably.

She raised her eyebrow. "Agree to disagree? Are you joking? This is a sort of a heavy issue."

"So?"

"So it's not like we're debating how to pronounce tomato, Dean. You want to agree to disagree about which one of us gets to risk their life?"

"Well, I don't really see any other option," he shrugged. "Because I don't see you backing down anytime soon, and I sure as hell know that I won't. So… we agree to disagree."

She stared at him for what felt like ages, through narrowed eyes, her arms still folded.

"All right," she said finally. "Deal."

Then she leaned back against the truck and they lapsed back into their silence.

"Did Sam tell you?" Dean finally asked.

"About Max?"

He nodded.

She nodded back. "Yeah. Fire in the nursery, six month birthday, Mommy on the ceiling. Weird shit, all this."

Silence.

"I think he's worried about it."

"I think he's allowed to be."

"Are you worried about it?"

"Nah. Are you?"

"Nah."

And then it was silent again.

"Do you think… do you think Sam's a cambion?"

Her sudden question startled him. Dean whipped his head in Jayne's direction, frowning incredulously. "A what?"

Jayne wouldn't look at him. Her eyes were flicking from one Impala headlight to the other as she leaned against the truck bed, chewing her lip nervously.

"A cambion," she repeated, after a long hesitation. "Half human, half demon. Incubus offspring."

Dean stared silent and slack-jawed at her.

"They have special powers," she added, her voice going up at the end as though she were asking a question, rather than stating a fact. "Psychic powers."

She didn't go on, and Dean needed a moment to process. When he did speak, his voice was low and dangerous.

"You think my brother is a demon?"

She still wouldn't look at him.

"Not just your brother," she fairly babbled. "Not just Sam, but Stephen… Max…"

"Wow, that incubus really messed with your head, didn't it?"

"No! No, it didn't! I just… look…"

"Your brother is not a demon!" he snapped. "And neither is mine!"

"You don't know that!" she exploded, at long last looking him in the eye. "Would you be this certain if was just Max we were talking about? _Just_ Max? You wouldn't! Admit it! You just don't want to see it! I know – I don't want to see it either! But now that it's _here_... in my head… I can't _not_ see it!"

"What did that demon say to you?" Dean demanded.

"Oh, god!"

She rolled her eyes unconvincingly, turning away from him. Dean leapt down from the bed, grabbing her arm and stopping her from running.

"Tell me!" he thundered. "What did that thing say to you?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Yes it does! It sure as hell does! It matters when it's got you all freaked out, it matters when it might be about _my_ brother – it fucking matters, Jayne! Now you tell me, goddamn it, what did that thing say to you?"

He'd grabbed her by both arms and forced her against the back of the truck, yelling at her, screaming into her face. She stared back at him, face blank, eyes defiant, chin up, in that silent, stoic way she had.

But her lip trembled slightly. Dean knew her too well by now to miss the tremble. And immediately the anger abated, replaced with a sudden onslaught of guilt.

Dean didn't let go. He loosened his hold on her, but he refused to let go. He leaned over her, tried to soften his expression. "Jayne," he said gently. "What did it say to you?"

She looked down at the ground between them. "My mom," she murmured. "About my mom…"

There was a hesitation. Dean waited it out.

"It said…" she chuckled bitterly. "It said, 'You Gibsons are all the same.' That's what it said to me. It said… it said it knew my kind, that…"

She swallowed, closed her eyes, and then said, with all the repulsion she could muster, "You're the spitting image of your mother. She was _so_ sweet."

Jayne didn't continue. Dean didn't know what to say or do, but he knew silence was wrong, somehow. He was supposed to say something to that. "Look," he tried. "Demons… they lie. They know your weak spots. That thing was just… it was just trying to get under your skin."

"I want to believe that," she whispered. "But… the thing tells me… it gives me a time frame. Twenty two, twenty three years ago. And that's when…"

She trailed off. She didn't go on, because Dean didn't need her to. He knew exactly what had happened twenty two years ago.

"You think this thing killed your mom?"

Jayne shook her head. "No. I don't. I think that thing… that thing… you know what. It… it did that to her, and then… well, nine months later…"

"Stop it. Your brother is _not_… he looks exactly like Lynn! No way your stepdad wasn't…"

"It could have possessed Russ," she pointed out. "It could have. Then Stephen would have all Russ's genetic material and… and the demon's…"

"No," Dean shook his head. "No. That didn't happen. Not to your mom, and not to mine. It doesn't make sense! Why would this… why would this other demon go back and kill our moms? It doesn't…"

"Cleaning up the mess?" she suggested. "Getting rid of the witnesses? I don't… I don't know, Dean, but I can't ignore the coincidence…"

"Yes you can!" he snapped. "Our brothers aren't demons! You can't… you can't just…"

He let go of her, turning into the truck and slamming his fist down on the hard metal. "You can't just tell me that!"

"You wanted to know!" she shouted at him. "You wanted to know, Dean! So I told you! You think I like this? You think I want this to be true? I wish we'd never hunted that incubus! I wish…"

She kicked her tire, suddenly, ferociously. "My brother lights people on fire!" she exploded. "With his _mind_, Dean! People don't do that! _Demons_ do that!"

"And Sam's visions?" Dean shouted at her. "Max Miller's telekinesis… that makes them demons!"

"Yes! I mean… no! I don't…"

She sighed tiredly, sagging against the truck. "I don't know. I don't know what to think. I just know something isn't right. Something…"

Jayne trailed off again, fixing her eyes on the Impala's back bumper.

"I don't know what to do, Dean."

Her voice was tiny and desperate. Dean stared at her, suddenly incapable of screaming.

She looked him in the eye. "I _always_ know what to do," she said fiercely.

He kept staring at her, even though she looked away. She kept talking. "But now… now… I never used to be scared. Now I'm scared all the time. I never know what to do. And I wish… I just want my dad back."

The words hit Dean in the stomach with all the force of a punch. Jayne laughed mirthlessly. "I haven't said that in nearly four years," she announced. "But everything is so messed up now and… I just want someone to tell me what to do."

There was a long silence. Dean stared at her for a while. Then, after what felt like hours, he moved closer, leaning against the truck. "Yeah, well," he said. "Lately, I've been wishing my dad was around too."

She looked at him.

"Sam's right," he went on with a short, bitter chuckle. "I was always the good little soldier. I always did everything my dad told me to. Now he's gone and… and I have to make all these decisions, and…"

He looked her in the eye. "He didn't prepare me for any of this," he said, aware that he sounded as desperate as she had. "He didn't prepare me at all. I don't know what to do either, Jayne. I'm just as scared as you are."

Neither of them spoke for a while. Then Dean chuckled again, still bitter. "So, I guess we're not much help to one another."

She didn't say anything at first. Dean shook his head and looked down at the dirt.

Her fingers snuck in between his. Dean looked up in surprise as her warm hand enveloped his, squeezing it tight.

Their eyes met. "You're the only one who _ever_ helps me," she told him seriously, viciously.

Dean stared at her, speechless. She looked away, still holding his hand. "We'll just – we'll just stick it out together. And then maybe it'll be all right."

He raised an eyebrow. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "Or maybe it won't," she conceded. "But, hey… at least when the shit hits the fan, we'll have a drinking buddy."

Dean laughed. He was surprised to hear the laughter burble out of his mouth. She lit up at his laugh, smiling at him.

Dean dragged his eyes from hers, sobering. "All right,' he agreed. "You and me. We'll stick it out. We'll… we'll help each other."

And then he winked, smirking. "BFFs, right?"

It was her turn to laugh.

When he let go of her hand, it felt like a shame. But he knew it was time to let go. He was getting far too comfortable holding that damn hand. So he let go, and folded his arms across his chest.

"Well," he said. "That was awkward."

"You're telling me."

"I could use a beer."

"I could use a fifth of tequila."

Dean laughed. She smiled. And the front door of the Miller house swung open. Sam and Lynn stepped outside, and just like that it was over.

Jayne stared at the door and Dean instantly knew. "You haven't told your sister."

It wasn't a question, and to her credit, she didn't lie. She just shook her head.

Dean nodded. He looked at his brother. "It's ok," he told her. "I'm not going to tell Sam."

Jayne looked at him, and he looked right back. They understood one another. Suddenly, they had a deal. Suddenly, it really was just the two of them. They alone knew what had just passed between them, what everything they'd said had meant. It should have made Dean feel utterly, completely alone.

He didn't.


	42. Shadow

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to Nelle07, Penny, tbelle1234, angeleyenc, marky deedee, MYP, SingingInTheRain1989, ThreeMoons, supernatural94, Spelllesswonder29, Lov3good, Raine, Joan J., Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, januarysunshine13, 321K-Girl, Carver Edlund, legrowl, AshlynPaige92, fakeelectric, and PushUpDasies for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 42: Shadow

Jayne sat down heavily on the worn, red leather barstool, snatching the cold PBR laid out on the counter for her. She poured the cool, grainy liquid down her throat, savoring the tingle.

Lynn crashed on the stool beside her, sighing heavily and rubbing her eyes. Another PBR was sat down on the counter top, and Lynn gulped it greedily, leaning on the counter.

Jayne nursed her beer, back against the bar and hand in her hair, watching as Deedee Hannigan stumbled out from behind the counter of Hannigan's Pub, her own beer in hand, and took a seat on the stool next to Lynn. The young bartender picked at a hole in her jeans, taking a gulp from her PBR, and sighed.

"You know, I really liked these jeans," she observed.

"Don't sweat it," Lynn replied between swallows. "I hear distressed denim is in again."

Jayne smirked at the comment. She leaned back harder against the counter, eyes going to the wooden ceiling.

"I hate poltergeists," she announced.

"Ditto," Lynn said.

Deedee chuckled, sounding tired. "Thanks for coming out," she said. "There was no way I could bounce that thing all on my own. Why does anyone need a house that big?"

"I have no idea," Jayne muttered. "But I nearly got killed by three lamps, two chairs, a mattress and a Hoover vacuum cleaner. Those people are so paying for my hospital bills."

Lynn snorted. "Like we could get you to visit the hospital."

Jayne smirked.

Deedee pulled her shoulder-length ginger curls out of her ponytail and fluffed them with one hand. "I need a shower," she observed.

"Same," Lynn said.

"Mm-hmm," Jayne agreed.

For a moment, the three hunters sat in silence, drinking their beers and contemplating their latest hunt.

"So where's Rufus?" Jayne asked suddenly. "Why wasn't he around to help you exorcise that mansion?"

"Danny needed help on a hunt out in Montana," Deedee replied, rolling her eyes. "Sounded like a run of the mill haunting to me, but you know Danny."

"I do," Jayne agreed.

"Good thing I could call you two to help me out," Deedee said.

"We're glad to help," Lynn told her. "We were kind of itching for a hunt."

"Still, thanks."

They lapsed into a tired silence.

"So what have you guys been up to?" Deedee asked suddenly. "We haven't heard from you in a while."

Jayne shrugged, drinking from her PBR. "Oh you know, hunting evil, killing things… same old, same old, no big deal."

Deedee snorted and rolled her eyes. "What about those cute boys you brought by here a few months back?" she asked, lowering her voice conspiratorially… which was ridiculous, because the bar was empty.

"Who?" Jayne retorted.

"Sam and Dean?" Lynn asked.

"Yeah, Sam and Dean. What do you mean who, Jayne?"

"Sorry," Jayne shrugged. "You threw me off with the term cute."

"Shut up," Lynn rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows you want in Dean Winchester's pants."

"I do not!"

"Dean," Deedee nodded. "Otherwise known as Tom. The dude that almost died, right?"

"That's the one," Lynn said.

"Yeah," Deedee murmured, smirking a little around the corners of her mouth. "I can see that."

Jayne glared at her as Lynn giggled. "Bite me, Carrot-top."

Deedee stuck out her tongue.

"Lynn's the one that had sex with Sam," Jayne smirked.

Lynn gasped. "Jayne!"

"Oh my god, you had sex with Sam?" Deedee asked excitedly.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "It's no big deal."

"It is _such_ a big deal! That guy was adorable! And built."

Jayne snorted. "If you two are going to act out _Sex and the City_ for me, I think I'll take my shower first."

"No way!" Deedee and Lynn snapped simultaneously.

Jayne's phone chose that moment to start vibrating against her leg. She fished it out of her pocket, glancing at the display screen.

Dean.

She rolled her eyes, flipping the phone open as Deedee began hounding Lynn for details about sexual intercourse with Sam Winchester. "What do you want, Winchester?" she growled into the phone, feigning annoyance.

"I need help."

The first words out of his mouth: I need help.

He sounded… desperate.

Jayne immediately sobered. She glanced at Lynn and Deedee. They weren't paying attention to her, so she got to her feet without a word and ducked outside of the pub.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"Sam and I were checking out these nasty murders in Chicago," Dean explained. "We found one victim's blood splattered out on her carpet in this freaky symbol…"

"Send me a picture," Jayne said immediately. "I'm at Rufus's. I'll bet I can find it in one of his books."

"No, no, that's not why I need help. I already figured out the symbol… we're dealing with a deva."

"What the hell's a deva?"

"Shadow demon."

"Uh… right. Ok…"

"Look, I did background research on the victims," Dean pushed on. "And… Jayne, they're all from Lawrence."

Lawrence.

As in Lawrence, Kansas. Dean and Sam's hometown.

"You… you think…"

"I don't know what to think," he said. "But it's got to be connected, right? It's got to be."

"I don't know… I mean… maybe…"

"Sam ran into some chick, too. Her name's Meg Masters… he's out stalking her."

"What?"

"I don't know… he said he met her on the side of the road, back in Illinois. You remember that hunt when we split up?"

"Burkitsville. Yeah, I remember. He met her on the side of the road?"

"Yeah. And now she's here – randomly – in Chicago. Sam thinks she's involved somehow."

"Sounds reasonable."

"I don't know what to do."

When he said that – when he admitted he didn't know what to do – when he said it in that low, desperate, needy rumble – she caved, immediately.

"Give me six hours," she said. "We'll be there."

* * *

Dean was pacing.

He'd hung up with Sam a few hours earlier, given him the scoop on the deva… a shadow demon, really ancient big time evil, could only have come to Chicago if someone had conjured or summoned it, yadda yadda yadda… and since Sam hadn't come back yet, Dean decided that his little brother had either stumbled across some new lead… or he had taken Dean's advice and given hot little Meg Masters a private strip-o-gram.

Which would probably be a bad thing, if he'd really stopped to think about it, since Sam was currently making headway with Lynn Juarez… and as annoying as Lynn could be, he definitely preferred her to Meg. Especially after what that little upstart had said to him in the bar about the way he treated Sam. He treated his brother pretty awesome, considering.

Dean shook his head, getting irritated all over again. Yes, he'd definitely prefer about a hundred kicks in the shin from a flustered Lynn than even one more nasty word from the blonde she-devil.

He'd done some more research after hanging up with Sam… with the aid of Amy, the charming, perky officer of the law… and within an hour he had stumbled upon what he'd termed the Kansas connection. All the deva's victims so far had been from Lawrence, Kansas.

That had shook him up real nice.

So he had done the only thing that made sense at the time; he'd called Jayne.

Looking back, the move actually made no sense at all. Why the hell would he call Jayne? She wasn't from Lawrence. Sure, her mother had died the same way Dean's had, but… well, how connected could some random people from Lawrence be to some woman who'd died all the way out in Connecticut?

Not that it mattered. He'd already called Jayne, and she was already coming out.

He forced himself to sit down on the edge of his bed. When they had first come to Chicago to investigate that bartender's grisly murder, the last thing Dean had thought they'd find was a lead on the demon.

It looked like maybe he'd been wrong.

There was a knock on the motel room door.

Dean leapt to his feet, raced across the room, and threw the door open.

"Dude," he said. "What the hell took you so long?"

Jayne and Lynn were standing in the hall, looking tired. Lynn was rolling her eyes and chewing her lip petulantly, her eyes roving around the dirty hallway. Jayne was directly in the doorway, raising her eyebrow at him.

"What do you mean what the hell took so long?" she retorted. "I said give me six hours and I took five. I'm _early_, you dumbass."

He couldn't help the smirk that twitched onto his lips. "Sorry," he returned. "I just missed you so much."

He affected an earnest expression that Jayne totally didn't buy. She rolled her eyes and smacked him in the chest, knocking him back a step so she could enter the motel room. Lynn followed behind her. Both of them had a bag in hand.

"Your motel's booked up," Jayne announced. "Mind?"

"Nah, it's cool," Dean replied. "Sammy and I got room."

"Thanks."

"I got to say though," he observed, smirking again. "You two look like hell."

"Five hour drive will do that to you."

"Yeah," Lynn said, speaking her first words since their arrival. She sounded irritated. "Especially a five hour drive that begins about half an hour after wrapping up a poltergeist hunt."

Jayne shot her sister a warning look. Dean winced slightly. "Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't know."

"It's not _your_ fault," Lynn replied. "How could you know? Jayne didn't tell you." Here, Lynn shot Jayne a sickly sweet smile. "Why didn't you tell him again, Jayne?"

"Because you're a pain in my ass, that's why," Jayne snapped. "Go take your damn shower."

Lynn rolled her eyes, grabbed her bag, and disappeared into the bathroom. Moments later, the water started to run.

Jayne flopped down on the bed nearest the window. "Which side you want?" she smirked.

He smirked back. "That's Sam's bed."

"Oh, thank god. He's the one I _really_ wanted to spoon with."

"Shut up."

Dean flopped down on the other bed. "So," Jayne said. "Fill me in."

"I told you everything on the phone. There's a deva around. It's killing people. Oh, and it has to be summoned by someone, so not only are we dealing with a rabid, bloodthirsty demon, but we've also got a big time player in town controlling the damn thing."

"Sounds like fun."

"And then there's the whole Lawrence thing."

Jayne sobered, sitting up off the bed a little. She frowned at him. "You think it's here?" she asked.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

Silence.

"You know, you didn't have to rush down here at breakneck speed," he told her. "You could have rested up a little. Took a shower."

"Are you telling me I need a shower?"

She smirked at him. Dean rolled his eyes.

"No. I just meant… I didn't mean for you to…"

"It's cool," she cut him off. "I know. I chose to come out quick anyway. Sounded like fun, and I didn't want to miss any."

She smirked again.

Dean stared at her. He gave her a little smirk of his own. He didn't mean it.

The motel room door swung open.

Sam came running in, frantic. Dean leapt to his feet, and ran towards his brother.

"Dude, I got to talk to you," they said at the same time.

Jayne sat up on the bed and stared at them.

Sam caught sight of her over Dean's shoulder and frowned, tilting his head to the side. "Jayne?"

She waved at him. "Hey."

Sam tilted his head towards Dean, still frowning. "You called them?"

"Uh… yeah."

Sam frowned a little while longer and then shrugged. "Weird. I was going to tell you to."

Dean frowned this time. "Really? Why?"

"I followed Meg to this old warehouse," Sam explained. Then he frowned again. "Where's Lynn?"

"She's using your shower," Jayne said. "Your motel's booked up, so we're crashing here."

Sam nodded. "Right."

"So what's the deal?" Dean asked.

"Um… well, maybe I should wait for Lynn."

Right on cue, the bathroom door swung open and Lynn stepped out, wrapped in a towel.

Sam stumbled back a step, blinking. "Oh, um… hey."

She stared at him. "Hey."

Silence.

"You were saying, Sam?" Jayne asked helpfully from the bed.

Dean smirked in her direction.

Sam fumbled, cleared his throat, and scratched his neck. He turned from Lynn and addressed Jayne.

"I followed Meg," he said again.

"Right," Dean returned. "You said that."

Sam glared at him. "She went inside this old warehouse. There was this whole black altar thing set up in there. And I saw the symbol on the altar – you know, the one we found in Meredith's apartment? The one used to summon and control the deva?"

"Yeah?" Dean asked. "So hot little Meg is summoning the deva?"

He felt Lynn's eyes hit him in the back.

"I think she's using the altar to control it too."

"So Sammy's got a thing for the bad girl?"

Lynn moved from the door, eyes darting suspiciously between the brothers. Dean hid a smirk, enjoying himself far too much.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. Look, not only was she summoning the deva, but she also had this bowl… it was silver, had these strange carvings on it? She was talking into it, the way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. I think she was communicating with something."

"With who? The deva?"

"No… you said those things were savages. This was something else… someone who's giving her orders."

Silence.

"Someone," Sam murmured finally. "Who's coming to that warehouse."

"What are you talking about?" Jayne demanded.

Sam looked at her. "This person… thing… she was talking to… it sounded like she was arranging a meeting. From what I overheard, it's coming to that warehouse to meet with her – tonight."

They were quiet again.

"Holy crap," Dean muttered.

He looked at Jayne.

She looked back. He could tell they were on the same page.

Sam and Lynn needed time to catch up. "What?" Sam asked.

Dean moved to the table and snatched up the files the police woman had given him. "What I was going to tell you," he said. "I pulled a favor with my – er… friend at the police department. Amy."

For some stupid reason, he found himself glancing guiltily in Jayne's direction. He tried to hide the wince that followed him making eye contact with the blond hunter.

She just cocked an eyebrow at him and smirked.

Which made him frown, because he wasn't expecting that reaction at all. Although… to be honest? He wasn't really sure _what_ reaction he _was _expecting.

"And... uh…" he cleared his throat, forcing himself to go on. "I got my hands on the two victim profiles. Turns out we missed something."

Lynn must have already got the 411 from her sister, because she scooped up her clothes and headed back into the bathroom. Jayne sat on the bed, eyes trained on the comforter.

Sam joined him by the table, leaning over the files. Dean pointed at the important information. "The first victim? He lived in Chicago his whole life, but he wasn't born here. Look where he was born."

Sam drew his breath in too sharp. "Lawrence, Kansas."

"Yeah. And Meredith? Turns out she was adopted. Look where she was born."

"Lawrence," Sam said again, shaking his head. He sank down into the chair across the table.

"Holy crap."

"Yeah."

"I mean, it is where the demon killed Mom," Sam observed. "Where everything started."

"Well, we don't know that," Jayne spoke up.

Dean looked at her. So did Sam.

"We don't have any idea where the Millers came from," she pointed out. "But we do know Max's mom was killed in Saginaw."

Dean swallowed. He'd called her in because of the Kansas connection, but… well maybe this right here was another reason why he'd called her.

He wanted to hear the opposing argument.

"And what about your family?" Sam asked quietly.

Jayne snorted. "Well, that thing killed my mom in Connecticut, so…"

"Right," Sam agreed. "But where were they all from?"

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Well, Russ was from Puerto Rico. That kind of blows a hole in your theory."

"And your mom?"

Jayne shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

Dean nearly spoke up. 'You don't have to answer that,' was on the tip of his tongue.

But of course, she did have to answer that. He wasn't sure what compelled him to try and tell her otherwise.

"I don't know."

Sam blinked. "You don't know?" he asked incredulously.

"Hey, I told you, didn't I?" she snapped. "Russ didn't talk much about my mom."

"But he never told you where she was from, or…"

"No," Jayne interrupted. "He didn't. He didn't tell me where she came from, who her people were… hell, he didn't even tell me my real dad's name."

Dean bristled a little at her tone. She was angry about something; that much was obvious. He had a hard time believing, however, that she was angry at Sam.

She snorted bitterly, folding her arms over her chest. "Russ didn't tell us about a whole lot of things. Ok? So I don't know where my mom was from. Hell, maybe you're right. Maybe it all is connected to Kansas. Maybe my mom was a Lawrence native."

The room lapsed into silence.

"Ok…" Sam murmured. "So… we think Meg's tied up with the demon?"

Dean glanced at Jayne. She didn't look back. "I think it's a definite possibility," he said.

The bathroom door creaked open and Lynn ducked back into the room.

"I don't understand," Sam said. "What's the significance of Lawrence? And how do the devas tie in?"

Dean shrugged. "Beats me. But I say we trash that black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation."

Sam shook his head. "No, we can't do that. We can't tip her off. We've got to stake out that warehouse, we've got to see who – or what – is showing up."

"And then what?" Lynn asked.

Dean looked at her. She'd been fairly quiet and uninvolved since her arrival in Chicago, which was unlike her. She must be about to get loud and in everyone's faces… which felt way more normal than anything else that was happening around him at the moment. Dean welcomed the outburst.

"What are we going to do when we see it?" she pressed. "What, are we going to kill it? We don't even know what it is – how to kill it – what weapons we'll need!"

"I don't see another alternative," Sam replied.

"Bull!" Lynn snapped. "You want to know what I think?"

"Well, I got a feeling you're going to tell us anyway," Dean muttered.

She glared at him.

Dean swallowed. "I mean… yes, Lynn. I do want to know what you think."

"I think you're itching for a showdown," she bit out. "You're looking for a little revenge. Well hell, aren't we all? But this is a damn stupid way to go about it. You want to rush into this warehouse half-cocked and wing it? We have _no_ idea what we're up against!"

The motel room was silent.

Dean broke the quiet. "Well, in that case, I say we don't do this alone."

Everyone stared at him. He shrugged. "I'm calling Dad."

Lynn snorted. "Right. Because John Winchester will just show up and know what to do, right? And everything will be ok? Is that what I'm hearing?"

"Hey, our Dad knows what this thing is," Dean replied. "He just hasn't told us about it. If we get him here… maybe he _will_ know what to do."

"And what if this isn't the thing that killed our mothers? Sam's girlfriend?" Lynn demanded. "What if it's something else entirely?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, in that case… I'm willing to bet it won't be so hard to kill."

Lynn shook her head, glaring at him, obviously unimpressed.

"So… we agreed?" Dean asked, glancing first at Lynn, then Jayne, and finally Sam.

Sam nodded.

Jayne stared at him. She looked at Lynn.

Lynn sighed. Then she nodded.

"Looks like," Jayne murmured.

"I'll call Stephen," Lynn announced.

She turned and left the motel room, punching numbers into her cell phone.

"I'll go raid the trunk," Sam announced.

He left the room too,

Dean and Jayne stared at one another.

He felt like silence was inadequate here, despite the fact that silence was what they usually relied on. Dean tried to think up something to say, some way to address the possibility of finally killing the demon, to talk about Jayne's mom – an issue obviously bothering her. He knew a little something about why, but he sensed there were other problems too.

"So…" she said, beating him to the words. She winked at him, and smirked playfully. "Amy, huh?"

Dean blinked.

Jayne got up off the bed and sat across from him at the table. "You totally boinked a sexy police woman, didn't you?"

What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

Yeah, he totally boinked her. He boinked her several times, in fact. It was fun. Amy was incredibly flexible. She loved tequila. And she had this little tattoo… he was _not_ going to tell Jayne _any_ of that.

More importantly… wasn't there something else she wanted to discuss? Something that held a lot more weight and importance than his sex life?

"You can't ask me about that stuff," Dean retorted. "That's guy talk."

Jayne scoffed. "I can do guy talk."

"No you can't. Guys do guy talk. You are not a guy."

"I can totally do guy talk," she insisted. "So… did she have awesome tits?"

She was smirking again. The mockery was heavy but fun. He didn't know how to respond, so he just smirked back and said, "Couldn't say. I'm more of an ass man."

Jayne laughed. "Really? Because I kind of had you pegged for a _both_ man."

Dean shrugged, leaning over the table, still wearing his smirk. "You got me."

She laughed again. "I'm going out to the truck," she said, getting to her feet. "Get some weapons."

He nodded. She walked out the door, shutting it behind her.

Dean fished out his cell phone, ready to call his father, and stopped, staring at the display screen.

She wasn't supposed to ask about his sex life. She wasn't supposed to joke with him about Amy the police woman's tits, and she wasn't supposed to ignore all the other heavy issues hanging in the room in favor of mindless guy talk.

She was supposed to talk about those heavy issues with him – or attempt to. God knows he couldn't talk about those things with Sam… at least, not really.

And yet, she'd ignored the demon. She'd joked about Amy. She'd acted like… a friend. The drinking buddy type of friend.

And that was really weird.

* * *

Let's talk about Amy.

Jayne wished she could explain why she had decided to go and talk about Amy.

But she had seen it, in his eyes, right before she opened her mouth. The look that said he wanted to talk, but wasn't sure how.

He wanted to talk about the demon. Or about her mom. He must have seen what bringing up her mom did to her. He had to have seen how she reacted to Sam's questions – he always saw the things she didn't want him to see. And then he… then he confronted her about them.

She wasn't going to talk about any of it with him.

So she had decided to talk about Amy.

Because if he could forget about that one stupid little peck back in Nebraska, well by golly, so could she.

In fact, she already had. It was forgotten. She didn't think about it. She didn't care about it. She had written it off for what it was; a last ditch effort by a dying man to get some play. A game of what if. Hell, he'd been knocking on heaven's door – he was allowed.

So let's talk about Amy. Let's talk about his sex life. She wasn't jealous.

He could have sex with Amy.

She could have sex with other people too. In fact, that was what she was desperately in need of right now – that random stranger sex she went out and got sometimes, when the mood struck her as right. Once they wrapped up this hunt, she'd head to the nearest bar, loosen up with a few drinks, and then chat up some dude about ten years older than her. Catch his interest by divulging her tastes in music and cars. Ask to see his place. Spend the night in his bed. She was good at getting it, so long as she was determined to do it – and that determination only set in every once in a while.

That determination was settling in.

She wasn't jealous.

And she wasn't scared. She wasn't worried. She wasn't flipping out right now. That demon meeting whatever blonde skank Sam had picked up on the side of the road could go right ahead and be _the _demon, and she wouldn't care. She'd waste it and move on.

Jayne tried to stop thinking so much, lugging a heavy load of guns, knives, exorcism notes and other demon hunting paraphernalia up the motel stairs. She stepped into the motel room and found Lynn sitting idly on one of the beds, Sam and Dean cleaning their guns over the other.

She tossed her duffel onto the bed, beside her stepsister.

"I wasn't sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything," Sam said on the other side of the room.

Jayne had fallen back on a similar philosophy.

She started dumping weapons out of the duffel, passing them to her stepsister. Lynn began cleaning guns, and Jayne began flipping through the books she'd grabbed.

Every once in a while she stole a look at Dean, and noticed he wasn't looking back at her.

She could live with that.

She could live with a lot.

* * *

Sam spun the little brush inside the pistol chambers, cleaning the gun in preparation for the night's events.

He glanced over at Lynn every once in a while, replaying the image of her stepping out of the bathroom earlier that afternoon, wrapped in a towel and dripping wet, her black hair flat against her scalp and gleaming in the dim light of the motel room.

The towel parting ever so slightly around her thighs, the bulge of her breasts above the hem…

Not good, he scolded himself. Concentrate on the demon. _Demon_.

"So, big night."

Dean had spoken. The words were conversational and completely inadequate.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Nervous?"

"No. You?"

"No. No way."

They fell into silence. Sam glanced at Lynn again, hating himself for it but doing it anyway. She had a lapful of guns she was cleaning and loading. Her stepsister was standing next to her, rifling through her bag, her back on the brothers.

Sam considered the possibility that something would actually happen that night. That Meg was really meeting up with the demon that killed his mother and his girlfriend. That maybe – just maybe – they could kill that demon. They could end it, once and for all.

God, he'd sleep for a month.

And before he knew what was happening, he'd told Dean so.

Dean just stared at him. Sam kept talking, some strange, twisted euphoria taking hold of him as he babbled.

"Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school… be a person again."

The words tumbled out, and at first Sam didn't comprehend how wrong they were.

"You want to go back to school?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, once we're done hunting the thing."

"Huh."

Dean went back to his guns, and Sam felt slighted.

"What?" he asked. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No. No, that's great. Good for you."

Sam stared at his brother.

What was happening here?

"I mean, what are you going to do when it's all over?"

"It's never going to be over," Dean spat. "There's going to be others. There's always going to be something to hunt."

"But there's got to be something that you want for yourself."

"Yeah, I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over, Sam."

Dean turned his back on him.

Sam stared.

On the other end of the room, Lynn cleared her throat and got to her feet.

"Um… I forgot that thing in the car," she said to her stepsister.

Sam and Dean both looked at her. Jayne stared at her too, looking as out of it as Sam felt, and then seemed to realize what was happening. "Oh," Jayne agreed unconvincingly. "Right. That thing. We should… we should go get that."

And then both of them ran out of the room.

Cowards.

Sam watched the door shut behind the stepsisters, and then slowly turned back to his brother. "Dude," he said. "What's your problem?"

Dean didn't answer right away. He stood still a while, his back on Sam, facing a chest of drawers. He slumped, gripping the dresser, sighing.

He spun back on Sam, and he looked almost vulnerable when he said, "Why do you think I drag you everywhere, huh? Why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?"

"Because Dad was in trouble. Because you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom…"

"Yes! That! But it's only part of it, man!"

Silence fell. Dean turned from the dresser and took a few steps towards Sam. "You, me, Dad. I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again!"

Sam stared.

Dean's smile was pitiful. Like a kid. Like a puppy. Sam felt his gut twist. No one wants to kick a puppy.

But the puppy needed to be kicked.

"Dean," he said firmly. "We are a family. I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before."

Dean was quiet. He gnawed on his lip. "They could be," he said.

Sam shook his head. "I don't want them to be."

Dean looked away.

"I'm not going to live this life forever," Sam continued, as gently as he could. "Dean, when this is all over… you're going to have to let me go my own way."

Dean just looked at him.

Sam hoped he'd gotten through.

Deep down, he knew.

Nothing was settled.

* * *

Lynn had known the moment Sam started talking about life after the demon that she and Jayne needed to vacate that motel room.

It wasn't the sort of conversation that she and Jayne were supposed to be in the room for. It was a family matter. One that didn't require outside interference. The Winchesters were their friends, but they weren't their family, and she and Jayne didn't need to be sticking around for the ultimate fight between the two equally pigheaded brothers.

So she'd made up an excuse to drag her stepsister out of there, and then the two of them had bailed.

The moment the door was shut behind them, Lynn spun back around and put her ear to the door. Because yes, the brothers needed to have this argument alone. But that didn't mean she wasn't dying to overhear the whole messy ordeal.

"What are you doing?" Jayne hissed.

"What's it look like?"

"It looks like you just dragged me out of that room on pretense of giving those two some privacy… and now you're going to eavesdrop on their private conversation."

"Bingo. You're getting smarter with age, Jaynie."

Jayne narrowed her eyes at her stepsister.

Lynn rolled hers. "You know you want to," she said.

Jayne sent a longing look towards the door, and for a second, Lynn thought she had her.

Then Jayne grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the door. "Not cool," she growled. "We're going to go stand down at the end of the hall, _right now_."

"You go," Lynn retorted, pulling free. "I'm staying right here."

Jayne glared. Lynn smirked.

"Fine," Jayne said. "Be a hypocrite. See if I care."

Then she turned and marched off down the hall.

Lynn stared at the door for a really long time. Then she cussed, rolled her eyes, and raced off after her stepsister.

She found Jayne at the end of the hall and around the corner, waiting for her. "I hate you," Lynn announced.

Jayne smirked. "And yet my opinion matters so much to you."

"Don't flatter yourself."

They stood in the hall, leaning on opposite walls, staring at the floor.

Lynn honestly didn't know how to feel.

Back in Stamping Ground, she'd been pissed. She'd been tired and sweaty and dirty and sore. She'd wanted a shower and a nap. Instead, she'd gotten dragged off to Chicago and thrust right into a whole new hunt.

Maybe they really were dealing with _the_ demon. The one that killed Ana, and Sam's mother, and Sam's girlfriend. Maybe it really was about to be over.

Then again, Dean had a solid point. These things were never really over. And Lynn had a whole new concern now, something else besides Ana to think about.

Her own mother was a mystery now too.

And then, of course, there was Sam. Just when she was starting to patch things up with Sam – albeit, everything was still pretty awkward and strange – Sam goes and says something like what he said back in the motel room. If they killed that demon tonight, he was going to bail on the life – quit hunting and go back to Stanford.

Lynn wasn't sure what to do with that.

"You get in touch with Steve?" Jayne asked suddenly.

Lynn tore her eyes from the floor and looked at Jayne. She shook her head in the negative.

"Voicemail or wrong number?"

"Wrong number."

Jayne shook her head. "I swear, if I ever see that kid again, I'm going to kick the living crap out of him."

Lynn smiled. "Get in line, sister."

Jayne smirked.

"Do you really think this is it?" Lynn asked. "Do you really think this is _the_ demon? You really think we found it?"

Jayne stared at her for a few moments. Then she shook her head.

"No," she said softly.

Lynn frowned. "Really? Why not?"

Jayne shrugged. "I don't know. It's just… it's just too easy, you know?"

Lynn stared.

"It just… it feels too easy," Jayne murmured.

Lynn stared a little longer, and then smiled. "You know what?" she said. "I completely, one hundred percent agree with you."

Jayne chuckled.

They were quiet again. Lynn leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes.

"What if it is?" Jayne asked.

Lynn opened her eyes.

"What if it is?" Jayne asked again. "What if it is the demon? Then what?"

For a while, Lynn just looked at her stepsister. Then she shrugged. "Well… I guess you and me are going to feel pretty damn stupid."

Jayne snorted. "And then?"

"What do you mean, and then?"

"Well… you heard Sam back there. When this is all over, he's going to hang up his holy water and head back to law school."

"So?"

"So… I don't know. You got similar plans?"

Lynn stared, slack-jawed. Jayne wouldn't look at her.

"You really think I'm going to bail?" Lynn asked.

Jayne shrugged. "Nah. No. I don't. I just…"

"Jaynie," Lynn whispered.

Jayne stared.

Lynn stared back and twisted out a smile. "Jaynie… I'm not going anywhere."

Silence.

"You don't have dreams?" Jayne asked. "You wanted to go to school once. You wanted to leave. I mean, if you…"

"I don't," Lynn cut her off. "I don't want to leave, not anymore. I'm not leaving you. I'm not leaving the life. And just because we kill this thing, doesn't mean anything is over. I've still got my own crap to figure out. There's more than one mystery in our twisted family."

Jayne stared at her for a long time.

They were staring at one another an awful lot, Lynn decided.

"We'll figure it out," Jayne said.

Lynn blinked.

"Your mom," Jayne clarified. "We'll figure out how she died, Lynn. We'll figure out what she was doing with the hoodoo. We'll figure it all out, I promise you."

Lynn smiled.

They heard the clomp of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. The two of them fell silent.

Dean Winchester came around the corner and stared at them.

They stared back.

"You get that thing out of the truck?" he asked.

Jayne raised an eyebrow.

"Yep," Lynn said, smiling too hard. "We got it."

Dean nodded. "Good. Let's head back in, then. Finish up. Then we'll head out. Kill ourselves an evil son of a bitch."

He smirked. He winked. Then he turned around and disappeared in the direction he came from.

Lynn looked at her stepsister.

Jayne watched Dean go, her face blank and unreadable – a sure sign that she was troubled.

"What's up?" Lynn asked.

Jayne shrugged. "Not a thing."

They headed back for the motel room.

It didn't take longer than a few minutes for them to finish cleaning and loading and packing up. Soon, they were headed out of the room and for the Impala.

As they walked down the hall and towards the stairs, Sam fell into step beside Lynn. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He looked troubled, but hell, she supposed he had the right. He kept glancing at Dean. The troubled look was mixed with confusion, and it was taking all of Lynn's willpower to not stick her nose into the Winchester's business.

That lasted all of two minutes. "Want to talk about it?" she asked.

Sam sighed and shook his head. "Not particularly."

They lapsed into silence as they walked, falling behind Dean and Jayne, who were several paces ahead of them, joking around as though everything were fine and they were headed off to the bar, or to hunt a werewolf or something equally nonthreatening.

Not that werewolves weren't threatening. They just hadn't changed any of their lives yet.

Lynn glanced at Sam again.

He caught her looking at him and smiled.

She smiled back.

"You really think this thing is… _the_ thing?" she asked.

Sam shrugged. "Don't know. Be nice if it was."

"Maybe," Lynn returned. "You know, unless it's something we are totally ill-equipped to handle and we wind up dying."

Sam chuckled.

They fell quiet.

"What would you do?" he asked suddenly. "If this was the demon, if we were finally going to kill it, end all of this… what would you do?"

She shrugged. "Tequila shots?"

He laughed. "Ok, but after that? What then?"

Lynn didn't look at him. "Drive on to the next hunt."

Silence.

"Seriously?" he asked.

She shrugged again. "What else would I do?"

"You could go to school," he exclaimed, trying to keep his voice down. "Like you wanted to. Major in chemistry and all that. You could finally do it!"

"I don't know… it's been a long time…"

"So? You're one of the smartest people I know. You'd be back on track in no time!"

"Maybe."

"Maybe you could go somewhere around Palo Alto," he went on. "I could help you then, if we were close."

Lynn squeezed her lips together tightly.

"Or even if you went somewhere far away, I could still help you. I mean, that's what cell phones and the internet are for, right?"

"Sure."

He laughed. "You don't sound that enthusiastic."

Lynn sighed. "Sam… I think you and I see things a little differently."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I can't just bail on Jayne," Lynn told him. "And even if I could… well, where would that get me?"

He stared at her.

"Look, when I was younger, I didn't want this," she said. "I thought I wanted normal. And now I realize that whole search for normal was a load of bullshit. What is normal, anyway? Flouncing off to school and getting a nine-to-five, ignoring what's really out there, letting innocent people die?"

"Just because we know about the hunt, doesn't mean we have to live it forever," Sam pointed out.

"No," she agreed. "It doesn't mean that. Or at least, it doesn't mean that for everybody."

"I know you don't want to leave Jayne alone," he said gently. "I don't want to leave Dean. But… you don't always have to be who they want you to be."

She stopped. She turned. He frowned at her again, stopping as well.

She looked him dead in the eye. "Sam, I've chosen this life for myself," she said evenly. "I know I don't have to stay. I know I can leave. But I also know that I can't live any other life but this one. No matter how hard I might try, I'm never going to be able to forget. Ok? I'll always know what's _really_ out there in the dark. How am I supposed to ignore that and go live in apple pie land?"

Sam shook his head, still frowning. "I don't understand," he said.

"I know you don't," she returned. "Maybe that's our real problem, you and me. We keep trying to connect, and we fail. I think it's because we don't understand. We don't see the world the same way."

Sam didn't look like he bought that. "I know I see eye to eye with you a hell of a lot more often than I see eye to eye with Dean, or Jayne, or my Dad," he told her.

She smiled at him. "Yeah. We think and feel a lot of the same, I grant you that. But when it comes down to those big time, important, make-it-or-break-it issues… we don't agree. We can't even understand why we don't agree. And that's our downfall."

He looked at the floor.

"If this is the thing we've been searching for," Lynn said. "If we finally kill it… then I wish you luck, Sam. I hope you get what you've been looking for."

He stared at her a long time.

"Yeah," he said finally. "You too."

She smiled a smile she didn't feel. "Thanks."

Then she marched off after her stepsister and Dean, set on a determined course out to the Impala.

* * *

Jayne slammed the back door to the Impala and automatically winced at the loud, resonating bang, expecting any moment for Dean to start yelling at her for maiming his baby.

He didn't say a word, which made her wince again, because Dean was supposed to be yelling at her for maiming his baby.

She didn't know what to do with this strained and awkward atmosphere that had sprung up between her and Dean. She didn't know where it came from.

Was it Amy? Was it Dean's plea for help, the suspicions about the demon? The way she'd come to his side? Had she come too fast? Was she supposed to dick around and show up in Chicago when she felt like it?

They had agreed to help one another. It had been an awkward agreement, one that came on the heels of an emotional purging she wanted to forget – that he most likely wanted to forget as well.

She shook her head, going around the back bumper of the car. Dean joined her there, unlocking the trunk and swinging it open. He hauled out her duffel and handed it to her.

She hefted it on her shoulder. He pulled out his own bag. Sam ducked in behind him and grabbed his bag. Dean slammed the trunk shut.

Sam took the lead, and Lynn took the rear, leaving Jayne and Dean together, sandwiched awkwardly in the middle, not talking.

She had been in the room when Sam had announced his plans to leave once this demon hunt was finished, and she had to admit, his resolve had frightened her, had made her think that maybe Lynn would leave too, the way Stephen had.

Lynn swore otherwise, and while Jayne couldn't quite believe her – still feared she'd wake up and Lynn would be gone – she had it better than Dean right now.

She knew it must be killing him to contemplate the possibility of losing Sam, especially when he'd just gotten his little brother back.

"So…" he murmured beside her.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He didn't look back, just fumbled about awkwardly for a way to finish that sentence.

"Ready to kick some demon ass?" he finally asked.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Sure."

"Hey, it's an ass-kicking twenty-two years in the making."

She snorted, slightly amused by that one. "Maybe," she returned. "Maybe not."

"Don't think this is our guy?"

"Honestly? No."

He laughed.

"What if it is?" he asked. "How you going to celebrate?"

"Tequila shots?"

She heard Lynn snort behind her.

"Count me in," Dean said.

She smiled.

"So… what are you going to do when it's over?"

She glanced at him. He was pointedly not looking at her.

"I thought you said it was never going to be over," she countered.

"Yeah, well… just because I said it doesn't mean you believe it. Actually, me saying something almost always means you're going to disagree, so…"

"Not this time," she cut him off, her voice dropping to a whisper.

He glanced at her.

"You're right," she told him. "It'll never be over. There'll always be something to hunt."

"So you're in it 'til you die?"

"Until it kills me, yeah."

They were silent.

She glanced at him and caught him looking at her in the strangest way. His eyes were too big and they looked slightly watery. There was a desperation there that she didn't understand and didn't really like. She frowned at him.

He looked away immediately, seeming embarrassed. She didn't push him.

Sam led them into the warehouse and directly to an old caged elevator that didn't work any longer. He began scaling the cage walls, climbing up the shaft towards the top floor.

The rest of them followed with their heavy packs strapped to their backs, grunting and clacking and trying to be silent the whole way.

They had to climb seven stories.

When they finally reached the top floor, out of breath and muscles quivering, they found the woman in question before her black altar, head bowed, chanting in Latin. Jayne frowned. Meg was lithe and long legged, with short cropped blonde hair and suntanned skin. Even standing at that altar chanting nonsense, she had undeniable sex appeal.

The four hunters crept onto the floor, fanning out and ducking behind pillars and crates, shotguns at the ready. They tried to stay silent and hidden, but that went out the window when Meg announced into the dark, airy room, "Boys. Hiding's a little bit childish, don't you think?"

"Well, that didn't work out like I planned," Dean muttered.

Meg turned around, smirking in the direction of the Winchester's hiding place. Jayne sunk lower to the ground behind her crate, clutching her gun.

"Why don't you come out?" Meg asked.

Jayne glanced at Lynn, hiding beside her. Lynn was watching Meg, hands tight on her Glock, looking ready to shoot the blonde in the back of the head. Jayne looked to the Winchesters and found them standing, moving out of cover, and advancing on Meg, guns pointed directly at the young woman.

"Sam," Meg smirked. "I've got to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sam retorted.

"So," Dean drawled. "Where's your little deva friend?"

Meg kept smirking. "Around. And that shot gun's not going to do much good."

Jayne rose up a little higher, keeping cover behind the crate. She aimed directly for the blonde's head, finger resting against the trigger.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Dean smirked back. "The shotgun's not for the demon."

Meg's smirk widened and she tilted her head to the side. "So, when are your lady friends going to pop up? Hmm?"

Jayne's grip on the gun tightened. A quick glance to the right revealed Lynn slumping lower to the ground, back to the pillar she was using for cover, looking wide-eyed. Jayne looked directly at Dean, waiting for some kind of signal. They needed Meg alive right now – she had information – but Jayne was getting anxious to pull the trigger.

Dean chuckled dryly. "Lady friends?" he retorted. "Sorry, princess, but you're going to have to be more specific. We're pretty popular dudes."

"Don't be cute," Meg returned, her smirk fading into something more sinister. She glanced in Jayne and Lynn's direction. "Come on out, girls! This game of hide-and-seek is getting a little old."

Jayne glanced at Lynn. Lynn chewed her lip briefly, and then nodded.

The two of them stood, slowly, coming out of hiding, still aiming their guns at Meg.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," Meg smiled ironically. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Meg."

"Hi, Meg," Lynn smirked, affecting false cheer. "I'm the girl who's going to shoot you right through the head. Nice to meet you."

"Ooh," Meg returned. "Now that's no way to make friends."

"Not here to make friends," Jayne drawled. "Bitch."

"So who is it, Meg?" Sam demanded, turning Meg's attention back to him. "Who are you waiting for?"

Meg smirked again. "You."

Jayne frowned and watched the other three hunters mirror her expression.

The sound of rushing air filled the warehouse. Out of the corner of her eye, Jayne saw the shadow rise up along the far wall.

Then Sam cried out in pain, flying to the floor. Lynn shrieked beside her, vaulting backwards into the wall. Dean grunted, hefted from the ground and smashed directly into a crate.

Jayne's gun was knocked from her hands and sharp stinging pain exploded along her jaw line. She cried out, falling to the floor.

Then she went flying backwards into a pillar.

That's when the world went black.


	43. Hurt

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to marky deedee, 321K-Girl, Lov3good, impalame, X-Mad-Giraffe-Attack-X, Nelle07, SingingInTheRain1989, angeleyenc, supernatural94, ThreeMoons, Spelllesswonder29, AshlynPaige92, legrowl, girly, Joan J., Strangler000, MYP, Lynx, J, BrooklynHiggans63, Penny, BlueEyedPisces, and Little Rock-n-Roll Queen for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 43: Hurt

Lynn blinked awake, her head pounding, struggling against unconsciousness.

She was tied to a pillar.

Fantastic.

Meg was sitting on a crate in the center of the room, grinning wickedly, looking all too pleased with herself. Lynn glowered at her. She hated this chick. Blonde… hot… consorts with demons… tries to kill her… not to mention, catches Sam's eye…

On the other side of the room, she saw her stepsister glaring balefully at the hot little witch too, and Dean looking pissed as all hell. Thick red blood was raining down on both their faces, and Lynn wondered how much blood she was losing too.

Sam was still out of it, but slowly coming to. She watched him as he struggled back to the world of the waking, wincing at the sight of his own bleeding slash marks and the large purple bruise on the side of his face.

He groaned a little, frowning around him.

"Hey, Sam," Dean said, smirking in his brother's direction. "Don't take this the wrong way, but… your girlfriend? She's a bitch."

Lynn watched Meg with narrowed eyes. Her legs were crossed and she was smirking. She looked like sex personified. Not to mention incredibly smug.

"Let me guess," Sam said from where he was tied up. "It was all a trap. Running into you in the bar, following you here, hearing what you had to say… it was all a set up, wasn't it?"

Meg snickered.

Sam shook his head. "And that the victims were from Lawrence?"

"Doesn't mean anything," she gloated, high on her success and seconds away from monologing. Lynn wrinkled her nose in distaste. "It was just to draw you in, that's all."

"You killed those two people for nothing!"

"Baby, I've killed a lot more for a lot less."

"So you trapped us," Dean spoke up. "Good for you. It's Miller time. Why not kill us already?"

"Not very quick on the uptake, are we?" Meg asked, leaning forward.

A short silence followed.

"Dad," Sam said suddenly. "It's a trap for Dad."

Lynn's eyes got huge. She looked from Sam to Dean and back again. She glanced at Jayne. Jayne was watching the evil skank in the middle of the room with calculating eyes.

"Oh sweetheart," Dean sneered at Meg. "You're dumber than you look. Because even if our Dad was in town – which he is not – he'd never walk into something like this. He's too good."

"He is pretty good," Meg returned. "I'll give you that."

She hopped down off her crate and saddled up to Dean, kicking his boot and crouching down in front of him. Her face was inches from his, and she tugged on his jacket.

"But he does have one weakness."

"Really?" Dean retorted. "And what's that."

"You."

Silence again. Meg had them. She had Dean, and she had Sam. Lynn watched, silently, wincing. She looked at Jayne again.

Her stepsister caught her eye. She winked. Lynn glared at her. Jayne wasn't going to fool her for one second with that bravado of hers. No, sir.

"He lets his guard down around his boys," Meg went on. "Lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he _is_ in town. And he'll come. And try to save you. And then the devas will kill everybody. Nice, and slow, and messy."

She tore her eyes from Dean and sent a saucy smirk Sam's way.

Lynn glared at the side of Meg's head, but Meg paid her no mind. Dean was glowering at her too, looking torn between tears and homicide.

"I've got news for you," Dean told her, threat on the edges of his voice. "It's going take a lot more than some shadow to kill him."

"Oh, the devas are here, in this room. Their shadows are just the only parts you can see."

The comment made Lynn's skin crawl.

"Wow. That is one awesome plan."

Lynn started. She looked at her stepsister.

Meg stood up, turning her back on Dean, and eyeing Jayne. She tilted her head to the side.

Jayne smirked at her. "So… why am I still alive? You know, me and Lynn? I'm willing to bet John Winchester doesn't give a rat's ass about us. Why not kill us off prematurely, huh?"

Meg took a step closer to Jayne. Her back was to Lynn, and Lynn couldn't see the look in Meg's dangerous dark eyes, but she struggled a little against the ropes, suddenly terrified for her stepsister.

Jayne was being her infuriating self, of course, smirking idly up at the homicidal maniac with the rabid demons under her control.

"I'll admit," Meg drawled. "I wasn't expecting to catch you two as well. You were definitely a surprise."

"Well, congratulations," Jayne returned. "Consider us your Christmas bonus. Now tell me, _Meg_… why are we still breathing?"

Meg stepped over Jayne's legs and stood over the hunter, arms folded over her chest.

"I should think that would be obvious."

"Stephen."

The name escaped Lynn's lips in a whisper. She regretted it the moment Meg turned away from Jayne and fixed Lynn with a seductive, dangerous smirk.

"That's right, Princess," Meg cooed.

Jayne snorted, directing Meg's attention back to her. "Well, I got news for you, devil-bitch. My brother's been MIA for months now. I've got no phone number, no last place of residence, no forwarding address. You might have the bait in the trap… but you got no way of letting him know about it."

"Sure I do," Meg returned. "You think your brother's _that_ difficult to find? He's good, I'll give you that, but not _that_ good. Not John Winchester good. He'll get the memo – don't you worry."

"And then what?" Jayne asked. "I mean… I'm sure I'll be dying right alongside the Winchesters tonight, so…"

Are you?" Meg cut her off, sounding almost childlike. "My, my. Are you the psychic now?"

"How did you know about that?" Sam demanded.

"Hush, Sammy. You'll get your turn," Meg said to Sam without even glancing his way. Her attention was immediately returned to Jayne. "Actually, I wasn't planning on killing you tonight. You or your stepsister. See… while having you ripped to pieces by devas does have its appeal… I know a certain heartbroken man named Randy who wants to tear you limb from limb himself… and I wouldn't want to deny him the opportunity."

"That demon…" Lynn murmured. Meg shot her another smirk.

"You're just full of the obvious today, aren't you?"

"So you've got other demon pals?" Jayne asked. "Huh. Should I be surprised they've been passing you around?"

_Crack!_

Meg backhanded Jayne across the face. Her head swung to the side violently. Lynn cried out despite herself, anxiety for Jayne winning out over self control.

"You sent his wife to Hell," Meg said, as though the slap hadn't happened. "You remember Faye. He was pretty fond of her. He wants her back… and if he can't have that, well… he'll settle for your head on a silver platter."

She turned her back on Jayne then, sashaying towards Sam instead. Lynn turned wide, concerned eyes on her stepsister, who offered her a lopsided grin, still trying to comfort her from across the room.

Lynn shook her head at Jayne, and then let her eyes slide towards Meg and Sam.

"Why are you doing this, Meg?" he asked as she approached him, looking all too much like a lioness stalking up to a scared, cornered herbivore. "What kind of deal do you got worked out here? And with who?"

Lynn frowned, because it was pretty obvious who Meg was working for – _the_ demon. The one that killed Ana and Mary and Jess.

But exactly who was that demon? That question had yet to be answered. She waited to see if Meg would drop a name.

"I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do," Meg snapped. "Loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy. Or Jess."

"Go to Hell."

"Baby, I'm already there."

She'd reached him now and climbed down to her knees, crawling in between his legs and leering in his face. Lynn glared daggers in her back. "Come on, Sam," Meg murmured, her lips directly alongside his ear. "There's no need to be nasty. I think we both know how you really feel about me."

She sat in his lap. "You know… I saw you. Watching me. Changing in my apartment."

Lynn, already green with jealousy and bursting with possessiveness, felt her jaw drop. "Sam!" she scolded, unable to hold her tongue. "Ew!"

Sam glanced her way, shaking his head frantically. "No… I… it wasn't…"

"I didn't mind," Meg went on, cutting Sam off and acting as though Lynn hadn't spoken. "I liked that you were watching me."

Dean scoffed. "Get a room, you two."

"Come on, Sam," Meg cooed. "You and I can still have a little fun."

She was kissing and sucking on his neck now, and Lynn made a repulsed face. That… that… maybe she and Sam weren't… really anything at all, but… still. Watching Meg touch him like that… well, if she hadn't already wanted to kill the bitch, she'd be ready to now.

"You want to have fun?" Sam sneered. "Go ahead. I'm a little tied up."

Meg grinned and bit his neck.

Lynn stared as the blonde continued ravaging Sam's neck and mouth with her lips and teeth, feeling half disgusted and half repulsed. "Whore," she hissed in an outraged whisper, not entirely meaning to say it out loud.

Meg just winked at her. "What's the matter? Jealous? You can join in, if you'd like."

Lynn shuddered. "No thanks. I have no desire to taste my lunch twice."

There was a noise from Dean's corner of the room.

The oldest Winchester brother winced. Everyone stared at him. Meg crawled away from Sam and right up to Dean. She yanked a small knife from his hands and tossed it across the room.

He smirked at her. She smirked back. And then Meg returned to Sam, crawling back into his lap and breathing all over him. Lynn rolled her eyes.

"Now were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?"

"No," Sam assured her. She grinned, her fingers running over his body. "No."

Then Sam smirked.

"It was because I have a knife of my own."

Lynn's eyes widened. Suddenly, Sam's hands were free and he'd grabbed Meg by the biceps, slamming his forehead into hers.

Meg cried out, crumpling to the floor. Sam groaned in pain, clutching his head.

"Sam!' Dean ordered. "Get the altar!"

Sam struggled up on his feet, leaping over a writhing Meg, who was still on the floor, and then raced for the altar. He knocked the large table over, sending blood and ceramics and candles shattering and scattering all over the warehouse.

That harsh, rushing-air noise from earlier hissed all over the room. Lynn watched, wide-eyed, as two shadows came down from the rafters and charged Meg.

"NO!" the blonde shrieked. "NO!"

Her hands reached out frantically, desperately, trying to grab at anything, anything at all. The devas yanked her backwards. Meg crashed through the large window, shattering glass, still shrieking as she fell to the street below.

Sam ran to his brother's side and sliced through Dean's bonds. Dean headed for Jayne, and Sam came rushing over to Lynn.

"Are you all right?" he demanded as he cut her loose.

Lynn nodded, rubbing her wrists, feeling vaguely hysterical.

Sam hauled her up on her feet. She swayed a little, leaning into his chest. "What about you?" she asked. "Are you ok?"

"Fine," he said. He took her arm and led her towards the broken window.

It was nice, his hand holding her arm. They headed for the window, stopping short of the drop off. Jayne and Dean joined them there moments later.

Meg Masters lay twisted and still on the sidewalk.

Lynn glanced around her, suddenly anxious. Sam's grip on her arm tightened and she wondered if he was thinking what she was. The devas might still be in the room.

Nothing happened. No strange sounds. No blood. No horrible, painful death.

"I guess the devas didn't like being bossed around," Sam commented.

"Guess not," Dean replied.

The four hunters stared silently at the body on the ground.

"Sam," Dean said suddenly. "Next time you want to get laid? Try to find a girl who's not so buckets of crazy. Huh?"

He smirked. Then he headed for the exit.

Sam glowered after him.

"Guess that leaves you out of luck."

Lynn jumped at the whisper in her ear. She turned a dark glare on her stepsister who was smirking beside her.

"Shut up," she growled.

Sam followed after his brother, and Lynn fell into step alongside Jayne, a few paces behind the brothers. "You all right?" Jayne asked.

Lynn nodded. "I'll be fine. I just need a nap. And maybe anther shower."

Jayne chuckled.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Bull. Jayne was anything but fine. Lynn wasn't fine either, and so long as she was silently calling out liars, Sam and Dean weren't fine either. All four of them were sore and bloody and freaked.

In an odd switch, Sam climbed into the backseat, behind Dean and next to her. Lynn frowned as Jayne slid into the front.

Dean started the engine and the Impala rolled away from the curb.

When Sam took her hand, Lynn wasn't really all that surprised. She squeezed back.

They didn't speak, which was odd. She liked to talk. She didn't like to sit silently in the backseat and hold hands. It felt like a date someone might have back in junior high, when they're awkward and wearing prescription deodorant and braces, and the two people in the front seat are somebody's parents, driving the kids to the movie theatre.

She leaned back against the seat, still holding Sam's hand.

"I wasn't watching her change," he said suddenly. "When her shirt came off, I averted my gaze."

Jayne laughed from the front seat.

"Jesus, Sammy," Dean mocked. "I'm not so sure that's something you want to be spreading around. People might get the wrong idea."

"Why?" Lynn returned softly. "What's wrong with being a gentleman?"

Dean snorted loudly.

She squeezed Sam's hand again. He smiled at her.

Maybe they could make things work, after all.

And maybe she was only thinking that because they hadn't found that demon tonight, and Sam wasn't going back to school tomorrow, and for right now they were both still hunters, fighting evil cross country.

She chewed on the inside of her mouth.

Hell, maybe they were doomed. But maybe they could have some fun together, in spite of that. Who was going to stop them, really?

No one but themselves, that's who.

And she was done standing in her own way.

* * *

Dean was tired and sore as he sauntered down the motel hall, keys jingling in his hand. His cuts were beginning to clot, but he still looked like a reject from a Thriller movie.

So did the other three hunters with him. Jayne was slashed and bruised and looking asleep on her feet. Lynn was limping and bleeding, and half of Sam's face was purple. The kid wasn't doing himself any favors either, lugging that heavy duffel cram-packed with weapons to their motel room.

"Why didn't you just leave that stuff in the car?" he asked.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," Sam returned. "Better safe than sorry."

Dean unlocked the door, swinging it open. He stepped over the threshold, Jayne close behind, Sam and Lynn on her heels.

He saw the dark figure, man shaped, in the corner, by the heavily curtained window. His heart leapt into his throat, and he held out an arm to stop Jayne from going any further.

"Hey!" he bellowed.

The figure didn't respond or even move, so Dean flicked on the light. For a moment, the man at the window just stood there, and then he turned slowly, stepping into the light.

Dean would know that face anywhere. Creased with middle-age, half hidden in a full black beard that was freckled in gray. His hair, similar in the black and gray department, was cropped close to his head. He had the same dark green eyes that Dean shared with Sam.

Almost. Dean's eyes were a little different, of course. They looked a little more like Mary Winchester's eyes.

"Dad," he said, not really believing it.

The man actually smiled.

"Hey boys," John Winchester rumbled.

Dean stared at his father for a moment, half convinced the man was a mirage. Then suddenly he was moving, crossing the room, and his father was moving too. They met in the middle in one hell of a bear hug.

Dean Winchester doesn't really hug. John Winchester definitely doesn't.

But this was a special occasion. They hugged fiercely, for a little too long, and then separated, still slapping at each other's arms.

Sam joined them slowly, looking hesitant and uncertain.

John looked at him. Dean watched both of them, hoping for reconciliation, expecting a fight.

"Hi, Sam," John finally said.

"Hey, Dad," Sam replied, lowering his duffel to the floor.

They didn't hug. But hey, at least they weren't throwing punches.

"Dad, it was a trap," Dean explained immediately, his gut aching with… guilt, he supposed. He shouldn't have dragged his father into this mess. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," John reassured him. "I thought it might have been."

"Were you there?"

"Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take a swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?"

"Yes sir," Dean said at the same time as Sam, their responses as automatic as soldiers answering a drill sergeant.

"Good."

That's when Dean saw the two women backing towards the door, looking to duck out. They were uncomfortable, he supposed. They wanted to give the tiny family some privacy.

"It doesn't surprise me," John was saying now, as Dean frowned at the two escaping women. "It's tried to stop me before."

"Hey," Dean called at them, not entirely sure why.

Lynn flinched, freezing but not turning around. Jayne started, catching Dean's eye and staring at him like a bank robber caught in a rifle scope.

"Don't leave," he said. "I mean… you don't have to leave."

"We probably should though," Lynn is quick to say.

John had noticed the two women by now, of course. Although, John probably noticed them the minute they entered; he just hadn't acknowledged them yet.

Dean moved to cut off their escape route, actually grabbing Jayne's arm and thrusting her towards John and Sam. Lynn moved with her stepsister, looking awkward.

"Dad, this is… this is Jayne Gibson," he said. "And, uh… Lynn Juarez. They're…"

"Hunters," John finished for him, scrutinizing them. "You're Russ's girls, aren't you?"

Everyone stared at him.

"You knew our Dad?" Lynn asked, sounding too excited.

John nodded once. "Met him a few times. Worked a few jobs with him. Good hunter. Good man. I was sorry about…"

He didn't actually say the words 'his death.' He just nodded knowingly.

Jayne nodded back at him, as solemn and unsmiling as John. "Thank you," she said.

Dean studied her, feeling like she oddly fit there, in that room. Something about the firm, stoic, unsmiling thing she had going on.

Lynn was odd man out, but then again… Sam usually was too.

"So this _was_ about the demon?" Sam asked, steering the subject back to the more important topic at hand. "It's been…?"

"It knows I'm getting close," John interrupted. "It knows I'm going to kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to Hell… _actually _kill it."

"How?" Dean asked.

His father smirked. "I'm working on that."

Dean smirked back.

"Let us come with you," Sam spoke up. "We'll help."

Dean caught the two stepsisters backing towards the door again. This time he didn't stop them, although he was surprised.

He thought they'd want to know what his father had to say. He thought they'd want the inside scoop on the family demon.

"No, Sam, not yet," John said. "Listen. Try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in the crossfire. I don't want you hurt."

"Dad, you don't have to worry about us."

"Of course I do. I'm your father."

Silence.

"Listen, Sam… the last time we were together we had one hell of a fight."

Dean watched Sam veer closer to the edge of tears. "Yes sir."

John stared at him a moment.

"It's good to see you again," he finally said. "It's been a long time."

Sam nodded. "Too long."

And then John enveloped Sam in a giant hug – a hug Dean never expected to witness.

They broke apart. Everyone was smiling. Jayne and Lynn hadn't even bailed yet. And then, John Winchester went flying backwards into the cabinets of the motel room kitchenette.

Ethereal growls and grunts and harsh metallic scrapes filled the motel room, shadows flickering across the walls, as John Winchester bellowed in agony, angry bloody red lines appearing across his face and along his shirt.

Sam went flying to the side, hollering as well, and Lynn flew towards the beds, screaming in pain, her shirt shredded to ribbons, blood pooling along her face and stomach…

Jayne was shouting, running to her stepsister, and then the devas caught her too, throwing her into the wall and ripping open her face.

Dean stood still, helpless, staring around him, watching all the people he cared about getting torn to shreds… Dad… Sammy… Jaynie… even Lynn…

"No!" he bellowed.

Then the devas came for him, tossing him towards the window, their claws ripping through his face and his abdomen, stinging pain erupting all over as they tore at his skin.

Dean kept fighting to get up, but he couldn't see the devas, couldn't even get a hold of them, could only feel their claws slicing through his flesh, could only hear their vicious growls and his father's agonized shouts of pain… Dean yelled nonsense, fighting, getting laid out on the floor by the table…

Sam had broken free somehow, made it to the duffel in the middle of the room. "Shut your eyes!" he shouted over the frenzy. "These things are shadow demons… so let's light them up!"

He set off a flare.

Bright white light erupted in the room. Dean covered his eyes. Immediately, the claws retracted. He groaned, clutching his gut, stumbling to his feet, trying to see the room through his squinted eyes. He could hear Sam coughing and breaking things as he stumbled towards the door, could hear Lynn moaning somewhere by the beds.

"Dad!" he thundered, fighting his way across the room. "Dad, where are you?"

"Over here!" he heard his father call back. And then Dean found him, grabbing his father's arm, hauling him to his feet and hoisting him on his shoulder.

They were all choking on the smoke. Dean dragged his father to the door, found the knob, threw the door open. He stumbled into the hall, still supporting his father, with Sam on his heels.

He almost didn't notice that Jayne and her stepsister weren't with them.

But he did notice, and instantly his gut dropped, nausea taking hold. Still holding up his father, he half turned towards the motel room, roaring "Jaynie!"

No one came out or yelled back. Dean exchanged a panicked look with his brother.

"Get Dad to the car!" Sam ordered.

Then Sam dropped his bag on the ground and ran back into the room.

* * *

The flare had filled the room with blinding light, and Jayne had to shield her eyes with one hand as she crawled towards where she'd last seen her stepsister.

"Lynn!" she shouted. "Lynn!"

Her flesh was ripped along her ribcage and her calf was torn vertically and her face was so scratched up that her own blood was almost as blinding as the flare in the room. Jayne could hear Lynn moaning in pain, and dragged herself towards the sound, ignoring her own stinging wounds, not stopping until her hand found Lynn's denim-clad thigh.

"Lynn!" she shouted, squinting at her stepsister, grabbing her face. Warm wet blood oozed through her fingers and Jayne wanted to puke.

"Lynn!"

Lynn moaned, her head lolling. "No, damn it!" Jayne yelled at her, smacking her in the cheek. "Come on! We got to move!"

Lynn's eyelids were fluttering, and she moaned again. Jayne cursed, blinking back tears, and yanked her stepsister half up from the floor.

The sweater her stepsister had been wearing was decimated, ripped open and falling off. Blood was raining down her chest and stomach, oozing in a pool on the carpet, starting to stain the top of her jeans. Jayne flinched violently, yanking off her flannel and pressing it against Lynn's torso. She wrapped Lynn's arm around her shoulders and stood, dragging Lynn to her feet.

Her stepsister sagged against Jayne's side. Jayne wrapped an arm around Lynn's waist, pressing the flannel tighter against the wounds, and started tripping towards the door, dragging Lynn's dead weight along with her.

Lynn wasn't even conscious anymore. Jayne stumbled with the weight, falling against one of the beds, trying to hoist Lynn up so she could carry her out…

"Lynn! Jayne!"

Sam's voice echoed in the too bright room.

"Sam!" Jayne called back.

She heard him stumble towards them. His hand found her arm, and then the other one found Lynn. She heard him gasp sharply.

"What the hell…?"

"Help me with her!" Jayne demanded. "She's passing out!"

And then Sam yanked her stepsister from her arms. Jayne's entire body protested, not wanting to let go of her little sister, not when she was so hurt…

Jayne stood, shielding her eyes, and limped after Sam and her stepsister.

They hit the hall, where the light was normal, and she could see again. Sam was carrying her stepsister bridal style, looking concerned and anxious and…

And totally in control of the situation.

Dean was standing there, holding up his father, looking as panicked as she felt. She looked at him, and he frowned back, his eyes going straight to the blood on her wife beater.

"Go, Dean!" Sam ordered.

Dean turned, supporting his father down the hall.

"Grab my bag!" Sam barked at Jayne.

Jayne did as commanded.

Then Sam marched after Dean, holding her stepsister, whose head was lolling on his shoulder and whose blood was spilling over the sleeves of his jacket.

She followed close behind, her stomach leaping and somersaulting, lugging Sam's heavy bag with her, feeling tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

They made it. Somehow, the entire group made it out of the motel and down the fire escape and all the way to the alley where Dean had parked the Impala, where Janis was sitting behind Dean's car, waiting for them.

She dropped the bag on the pavement by the Impala's back tire and wrenched open the back door. Sam bent over, laying Lynn in the backseat, his eyes roving over her body. His hands were shaking as he reached for her, and his eyes were wet.

Jayne shoved him ruthlessly to the side, ducking inside the car. Lynn was completely out now, her blood still spilling. She took small comfort in the way her stepsister's chest heaved up and down.

Her fingers trembled as she tore the shirt from her sister's shoulders. The sweater was in rags now, completely useless for anything except stemming the blood flow. She found the worst two spots and pressed the sweater scraps down on the gushing blood, trying to force the wounds to clot.

Lynn was not allowed to die. She was _not_ allowed to die.

The tears were threatening to fall now, and she pushed them back, ignoring the arguing Winchesters outside the car, caught up in her stepsister.

She couldn't lose her too.

* * *

Dean stopped outside the Impala, helping his father regain his balance. The man was breathing heavily after their mad dash from the motel room, but he was slowly coming back to himself, recovering enough not to need his son's help.

Which was good, because the moment Dean looked at his father's bloodied face, he knew exactly what they were going have to do.

Sam had thrown open the back door on the Impala and shoved Lynn back there, who was unconscious and spilling blood. Dean could see how heartbroken his little brother was at the sight, saw how he nearly started to cry when Jayne shoved him out of her way and flew to her sister's side.

She was clearly on the verge of panic, so he couldn't get too upset. She was allowed to be insensitive.

"All right," Sam recovered. "Come on! We don't have much time. As soon as the flare goes out, they'll be back."

"Wait, Sam, wait!" Dean said, not looking at his brother as the words came. He glanced at his father, and his father met his eyes.

They understood one another.

"Dad," Dean said, wincing as he spoke. "You can't come with us."

John didn't say anything. He didn't need to speak. It was clear they were on the same wavelength.

"_What_?" Sam exploded. "What are you talking about?"

"Look at you boys," John murmured, shaking his head. "You're beat to Hell."

"We'll be all right," Dean practically snapped. His dad needed to leave – _now_.

"Dean, we should stick together!" Sam protested. "We could go after this demon…"

"Sam!" Dean roared, annoyed and anxious. "Listen to me!"

He winced, because the words were hard to say. He felt his eyes staring to burn.

"We almost got Dad killed in there," he bit out. "Don't you understand? They're not going to stop! They're going to try again! They're going to use us to get to him!"

Sam stared, desperate. "Meg's right," Dean pushed on. "Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He's… he's stronger without us around."

Then he looked away, because he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take Sam's desperate eyes and his father's…

"Dad, no," Sam begged, grabbing John by the shoulder. "After everything… After all the time we spent looking for you… please… I got to be a part of this fight!"

Dean rolled his eyes, wincing. Fuck the fight.

"Sam, listen to me," John said gently. "This fight's just starting. And we are _all_ going to have a part to play. But for now… you got to trust me, son. Ok? You got to let me go."

Sam stared.

Dean watched, fighting the burning in his eyes.

Sam looked ready to cry. But he let go. He gave John one last rough pat on the shoulder… and he let go.

John looked at Sam, and then Dean. The three of them stood there, silently… because Winchester men don't say goodbye.

Finally, their father moved. He walked briskly to the huge black truck on the other end of the alley and spared his children one last look.

"Be careful, boys."

Then he climbed inside. The truck came to life with a roar, and then peeled away from the curb.

Sam stared after the truck. "We got to go," Dean said.

"Lynn…" Sam murmured quietly.

Dean nodded, marching to the back. "Come on, Goldilocks," he barked into the car.

She was still bent over her sister, covered in blood… was it wrong to hope most of it was Lynn's? She didn't even look at him.

Dean grabbed her arms and hauled her out of the backseat. As soon as she was clear, Sam grabbed his bag and dove into the back in her place. He heard the bag unzip and knew Sam was digging out their first aid supplies, getting ready to patch up Lynn.

Jayne tried to break free of his grip, but Dean tightened his hands on her arms. "My sister…" she hissed at him.

Her eyes were wet and shining, and he was waiting for the tears to spill. "Sam will take care of her," he replied, trying not to stare at the bleeding slashes on her face.

"I have to… no… _no_…"

"Sam will take care of her," he repeated, keeping his tone firm but gentle. "Ok? He knows what he's doing… he won't let anything else happen to her."

Jayne shook her head furiously. Damn it. She really was going to cry.

"She'll be fine," he insisted. "Now look at me."

She didn't. So he grabbed her chin and made her look at him.

"I need you to get in your truck," he told her. "And follow me. Can you do that?"

She shook her head again. "Lynn…"

"Will be fine," he finished for her. "Sam will take care of her. You need to get in your truck and follow me, ok?"

She stared at him a moment. Then she gave him a quick little nod.

"Good." He leaned over her, giving her a small smirk. "After all, we don't want to leave Janis behind, now do we?"

She shook her head. "I'd never leave Janis."

Her voice was a whisper, but it didn't matter. If she could keep up with the banter, she'd be fine.

He smiled. "Right. I know."

They stood there. He let go of her. She stared at the pavement. Then she nodded – more to herself than to him – and turned slowly, heading for her truck.

"Jayne," he said.

She looked at him.

"She'll be fine," he told her.

She nodded. Then she kept walking. Reached the truck. Climbed inside.

He watched until the door shut behind her. Then he slammed the back door of his car and clambered into the driver's seat, ready to get the hell out of Chicago.

* * *

Sam winced as he unscrewed the cap on the whiskey bottle. He used the alcohol to sanitize the slashes all over Lynn's body. He blinked furiously as he ripped open the package with the needles in it, spilling half of them all over Dean's backseat.

He grabbed a needle and threaded it. Then he picked the worst of Lynn's slashes – and they were all pretty bad, so it was a difficult choice – and started stitching her up.

"Try not to hit any potholes," he said to his brother. "I'm giving her stitches."

"Backseat driver," Dean joked, but his heart wasn't in it.

Sam had a lump in his throat and a knot in his gut. It was a good thing his hands had stopped trembling, because that wouldn't do when he was giving her stitches.

He'd been holding back tears since he'd seen his father in their motel room, so it was no surprise that as he stitched the worst of her cuts shut that a tear finally fought through his defenses and dribbled down his cheek.

Sam wiped it away, sniffing, and tried to channel all his focus onto stitching Lynn up.

He couldn't. He remembered the way she'd felt when he'd grabbed her in the motel room, how her blood had moistened the palm of his hand like a warm, sopping sponge. How limp and heavy she'd felt in his arms. The way her head had fell uselessly on his shoulder, the pained little moans she kept making…

Now she laid before him, still covered in blood, still bleeding, her tattered sweater in strips beside her. Sam had a hard time keeping back a second and third tear.

This was all his fault.

If he had never met her… if he and his brother had never entered Lynn and Jayne's lives… Lynn would not be bleeding to death all over the backseat of the Impala.

Everyone Sam cared about died. It was a fact. His mother… Jessica… this wasn't even the first time he'd watched Lynn nearly die. Dean had almost died back in Nebraska… Dean had almost died a lot, actually, and the same went for their father…

He hated how her head was tilted to the side, limp, her eyes squeezed shut. Her long dark eyelashes stood out against her bronzed cheek. Her black hair had fallen from her ponytail and lay loose around her face.

There was blood in her hair. Sam blinked furiously.

He kept checking her pulse, but it kept going steady. She was breathing normally too. He kept clinging to both those facts, hoping it meant she'd be all right.

Still, she'd lost so much blood…

"Should we take her to the hospital?" Dean asked from the front seat.

Sam glanced at him briefly, sniffing again. "I… I don't know."

Dean nodded once. "Well, we got to get at least two hours outside Chicago before we do anything. Maybe one, if you think she can't hold on."

Sam nodded too. "Right. Yeah, ok."

His voice was hushed. Dean glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Sammy… come on. She'll be all right."

Sam nodded again. "I know."

Even Sam could tell that he didn't sound very convincing. Dean sighed. "How are you holding up back there? Any mortal wounds?"

"Nah," Sam murmured. "I got lucky. Not much damage."

"Wish I could say the same," Dean grumbled.

Sam blinked again, sniffing one more time. He kept working on Lynn's wounds. Finally, he stitched the last of the gashes shut, and whipped out the gauze to cover the stitches up. Once done with that, he moved on to the milder cuts, using butterfly bandages and a little more gauze.

Her breathing was still normal. Heart still going strong.

He tapped at her cheek. "Lynn," he said. "Lynn, you ok?"

Nothing.

He gave her a mild shake. "Lynn! Come on! Wake up!"

"Let her sleep, Sammy."

Sam glared at his brother. "She isn't _sleeping_, Dean, she's _unconscious_!"

He didn't miss Dean's flinch. "I know. I was just saying…"

"Well, don't just say!"

Dean sighed harshly. Sam returned his attention to Lynn.

Life without her would be weird.

Simpler, maybe, he had to admit. Still… no more of those wide warm smiles that made shit seem slightly better, none of her electric touches, never another confused little pout when she got flustered… god, he'd never see her kick Dean in the shin again…

He'd never kiss her again.

He'd never…

Sam stroked her hair, feeling his lip tremble.

They were so different…. and yet so similar. Sometimes they were perfect… other times they didn't get along one iota.

He'd hurt her, and she hadn't deserved that. She'd froze him out… and maybe he had deserved that. Sam wasn't sure. All he knew was that she'd given up on him, and before now, right here, in this moment, he hadn't realized exactly how badly he did not want to be given up on.

He wanted her to keep trying.

Which made him a selfish bastard. Maybe it was time for him to start trying,

He would, he decided. He had to.

And goddamn it, wasn't he just the biggest prig ever to wait until she was practically _dying_ in his lap to figure out what she meant to him?

He kept stroking her hair, staring at her face. He didn't want to lose her… but this really was his fault. And if she were another girl, he'd be hitting the bricks, leaving her behind to keep her safe.

Except she wasn't any other girl. She was Lynn. And Lynn was determined to hunt, to stay on the road and waste evil, determined to stick with Jayne, to do the job…

She'd be in danger anyway he sliced it. So maybe he could stay, and not feel overwhelmingly guilty about it.

He'd still feel guilty. But maybe it would be a guilt he could live with.

After all, he'd lost Jessica. And so far, he was managing to live with that. Live through that and he could live through anything.

Lose Lynn too, though… well, he wasn't in love with girl. But… sometimes he thought he could love her, and that was more than he'd thought about _any_ girl since Jess.

So he couldn't lose her. Or Dean. Or Dad. He'd lost far too much already.

* * *

She ached everywhere.

Every last part of her body burned. Her head felt heavy, like a lead balloon. Lynn blinked, squinting against the dim light, trying to wake up.

"I'll get rooms," she heard a deep voice say.

A door slammed.

She tried to speak but only groaned.

"Lynn?" a familiar voice demanded. She felt warm fingers on her face. "Lynn!"

"Sam?" she croaked, struggling to sit up. She failed miserably and stopped trying.

She finally managed to open her eyes fully and saw him, leaning over her, his brow contorted in a concerned look. One more look that made him resemble a puppy.

"It's me," he reassured her. "Are you… do you need…?"

"I think I'm fine," she managed, swallowing hard.

"I'll get you some water as soon as Dean checks us in," he promised.

She forced a smile.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.

Lynn didn't get a chance to reply, because the sound of boots pounding pavement echoed outside the Impala and the door behind Sam was yanked open.

"Is she all right?" she heard her stepsister demand.

"I think so," Sam replied.

"Lynn?" Jayne practically shouted.

"I'm ok," Lynn whispered.

Sam stepped out of the car, making room for Jayne. Lynn rolled her eyes good-naturedly as Jayne forced herself into the car, sitting beside her.

"You look like crap," Jayne announced.

Lynn sneered. "Thanks a lot."

"Do you want to go to the hospital?"

She nearly choked. "Oh, god no."

"Let me rephrase that: do you _need_ to go to the hospital?"

"I'll be fine, Jaynie."

"Sam?"

"I really think she's ok, Jayne."

"Goddamn it," Jayne spat, glaring at her stepsister. "You nearly get yourself killed one more time sis, and I'll be the one headed towards an early grave."

"Considering your diet and reckless lifestyle, I think you were headed there anyways."

"Ha. This from the smoker."

"Shut up."

Jayne smiled. "You're really all right?"

Lynn smirked. "Just hug me."

Jayne hugged her. Lynn winced, and Jayne loosened her hold.

Sometimes it bothered Lynn that Jayne only hugged her when she was bleeding.

Jayne pulled back and gave her sister a watery smile. "Don't do that again," she said.

Lynn smiled.

"All right," Dean's voice sounded outside of the car. "The dick behind the counter said there was only one room left, so we're rooming together. Don't sweat it; we got two beds."

She saw his head appear in the car door. "Hey, Lynn," he said. "You all right?"

She nodded at him, forcing another smile. "I'll be ok."

"Good," he smirked. "But let me tell you something… if you got bloodstains all over my baby's upholstery, I'll kill you."

"Let's just go inside," Sam said, sounding annoyed.

Jayne climbed out of the Impala, stepping aside to make room for Sam. The youngest Winchester leaned into the backseat and took her arm, draping it over his shoulder. His hands slid under her back and her knees and he lifted her up, carefully sliding them both out of the backseat, and then standing straight once they were clear of the doorway.

He situated her in his arms, and she winced a little. He winced too. "Sorry," he said.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

Dean led the way, Sam close behind, still carrying Lynn. Jayne followed. Lynn tried to stay awake as they approached their motel room, her head tucked against Sam's shoulder.

Dean unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding the door for Sam. Sam marched into the room, headed for the bed farthest from the door, and plopped her down on top of it.

"Sammy, you need patching up?" Dean asked, shutting the door after Jayne entered the room.

"Nah," Sam said. "I took care of it in the car."

Dean nodded.

Lynn looked at Sam. He looked back at her, smiling slightly. The smile was odd – sad – wet and trembling.

"Come on Goldilocks," Dean spoke up. "You look like hell."

"I'm fine," her stepsister said, eyes on Lynn.

"You are not," Lynn said, wincing at the crack in her voice. "Go get patched up."

"I don't need to…"

"Yeah, well I do," Dean snapped, cutting her off. "Come help me."

He headed into the bathroom, lugging their supply of first aid stuff. Jayne looked torn between following him and staying with her stepsister.

"Jaynie," Lynn chided. "Don't be a dumbass."

Jayne started, and then sneered at her sister. Finally, she followed Dean into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

"You should get some rest," Sam murmured.

She smiled. "You promised me water."

He started. "Right," he said. "Of course."

He ran to the sink by the mini-fridge and got a glass, filled it with water, and then rushed back to her, spilling along the way. When he handed the glass to her, she almost laughed.

Instead, she took a long drink from the glass.

Her head was aching, and her body was sore. She felt weak and tired.

She set the glass on the end table and tried to take off her boots. She winced as she bent over. Sam sat on the bed beside her and helped.

"Thanks," she whispered.

He nodded, not looking at her.

She flopped against the pillows. He stared at her.

"I feel like I got hit by an eighteen wheeler," she announced.

He smiled at her, blinking furiously.

"Sam," she whispered. "Come on. I'm ok."

"No," he shook his head. "You're not. I thought you were going to die."

She watched him.

He stared at the carpet.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He frowned. "For what?"

She rolled her eyes. "For stitching me up. Duh."

He smiled slightly. "Of course."

"Probably saved my life."

"It's my fault this happened."

"What? Don't give me that bullshit."

"It _is_. If you'd had never met me…"

"Then I'd be dead. Burned up in a fire out in Stamping Ground, Kentucky."

He stared at her.

"I'm too tired to play 'what-if' with you," she said. "Come lie down and get some sleep."

Sam stared a moment longer. He took off his shoes. He stood up and headed for the other bed.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" she demanded.

Sam froze. Gawked. "Uh…"

"I said _come_ lie down and get some sleep, not _go_ lay down and get some sleep," she pointed out. "Get in this bed, and get in it now."

He looked really adorable when he was confused. He glanced all around him, frowning, his nose crinkled up like a bulldog. "But… what about Jayne and…"

"Jayne and Dean will be just fine in the other bed," Lynn returned.

"Together?"

He sounded skeptical. Lynn snorted.

"Please," she said. "We'd be doing them a favor. Secretly, they're desperate to share a bed."

Sam actually laughed. He titled his head and looked at her – _really_ looked at her.

"Ok," he said quietly.

Off came his jeans and his sweater. He moved to the available side of the bed and turned down the covers, helping her take off her jeans and slide down under the sheets. Then he climbed in with her, turning out the light.

She laid still, sore, eyelids heavy. He lay next to her, not moving either, not touching her.

With a pained grunt, she shifted herself towards him. He rose up on his elbow, reaching for her.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she whispered. "Now cuddle with me, damn it. I didn't ask you to sleep with me just so we could _not_ touch."

He laughed again, sounding surprised. Then he wrapped his arms around her gingerly, afraid of hurting her, and pressed his chest against her back.

Sam was like a giant heating pad. The warmth soothed the pain. The comfort lulled her to sleep.

She wondered if tonight was a onetime deal, on account of her almost dying and all.

Then she decided she didn't care, and tomorrow, if it was still important, she could make certain that this night didn't fade away, could make sure they did this again.

Almost dying puts things in perspective.

* * *

Dean hefted the bag onto the sink, still clutching his gut. He glanced at Jayne as she shut the bathroom door. She stood there by the door for a moment, staring at the linoleum. "Sit down," he told her. "I'll patch you up."

Jayne looked up at him and shook her head. "Nah," she said. "You go first."

He rolled his eyes.

"You are so worse off than I am," she informed him, her tone scolding, like a mother. He smiled slightly. Jayne crossed the room, took his arm, and steered him away from the sink. "Sit," she ordered, gesturing at the toilet. "Take that stupid jacket off."

Dean snorted, running his hands over the leather. "Don't hate on the jacket."

"Just take it off."

"Ooh, someone's frisky tonight."

"Goddamn it, you're an idiot."

He chuckled. Took off the jacket. Sat on the closed up toilet. Jayne yanked out the needles and the thread. The whiskey bottle. The gauze and the butterfly bandages. He had Sammy to thank for those two items… before him, Dean was just as likely to used duct tape.

She knelt before him, jerking his tee shirt up to reveal the slash in his stomach.

"If you want to see me naked, just ask."

"If you want me to punch you in the throat, just ask."

Jayne's fingers trailed the skin around the gash. She frowned at it, drawing in a small, almost unnoticeable hiss of breath.

"That doesn't look good," she said.

"I'm fine."

Her eyes met his – for a brief second. And then her eyes traveled to the deep slashes all over his face, blood half clotted, stark obvious against his pale skin.

"God, you look like shit," she announced. "You must have scared the living hell out of the desk clerk."

Dean smirked. "Oh, yeah. He almost didn't give me the room. But I convinced him in the end."

"Must be your charm."

"You know, you look like shit too."

"Shut up."

The whiskey burned his cuts and gashes. He flinched a little when she started stitching up the slash across his abdomen.

He kept his eyes trained on the top of her head as she bent over him, sewing him shut. She wrapped his gut in gauze. She cleaned up his face, hitting the cuts with whiskey, making him wince, sponging away the blood from his skin with a wet towel. She stitched one slash up, and used the butterfly bandages on the rest.

Their eyes met. They held it for a long time. She swallowed. His eyes traveled to her lips.

"You're finished," she whispered.

He nodded.

She dropped her hand from his face and backed towards the sink.

"Your turn," he said.

She nodded. "Ok."

But she didn't move towards him. She stood at the sink, untangling the gauze.

"_Now_," he barked.

"Give me a minute."

She was still playing with that damn gauze, fingers tripping over bottles on the sink. Dean got to his feet; took her wrist.

"Just sit down already," he grunted, thrusting her towards the toilet.

She sat down too fast, unable to retain her balance. He grabbed the first aid stuff and knelt in front of her, still holding her wrist.

Jayne was a mess. They all were, of course. Lynn had gotten the worst of it. Still, Jayne looked like hell and he didn't care for it. He eyed the slash marks along her jaw, the blood dripping under her eye from the cut slashing through her cheek.

Before he realized what he was doing, Dean was reaching for her face. He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing away the blood.

They made eye contact. He swallowed. Her lip trembled, her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

And then his lips were on her lips, pumping furiously against her equally active mouth. He grabbed her face, rising up on his knees, pressing against her chest. Her back hit the toilet tank. She grabbed at his face too, her hands roaming towards the back of his neck. Dean buried one fist in her hair, gripping her waist with the other arm, devouring her mouth with his own, trying desperately to get closer to her… closer… _closer_…

She inhaled sharply. Immediately he broke the kiss, leaning back to look her in the eye. "What?" he demanded. "Where does it hurt?"

"I'm fine," she insisted, breathless. "I'm…"

Dean yanked up her wife beater, revealing the jagged slash in her side seeping blood.

"Damn it," he swore.

Always something in the way.

"Jesus, Jaynie," he bit out, reaching for the whiskey. "Next time you're bleeding to death say something, will you?"

"It looks worse than it is. I'm _fine._"

He snorted. "Says the woman who needs stitches."

They were quiet as he set about stitching the slash shut.

"_You_ needed stitches," she muttered after awhile, sulky.

He chuckled. "God, you're a pain in the ass."

"You like it."

"You think so, huh?"

"Know so."

He did like it. A lot.

"Dream on."

She hissed as he finished the stitch. He looked up, wincing a little. "Sorry."

Jayne shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

He swore she thought she was John Wayne.

Dean cleaned her cuts with whiskey, provoking a few more harsh hisses and violent winces, and then wrapped her up in gauze and butterfly bandages. He kept kneeling in front of her, even after the job was finished, just watching her.

She frowned. "Done?"

He nodded but didn't move.

Jayne fidgeted. "What?" she asked.

"You all right?"

"As good as you are."

He smirked. "You'll never be as good as I am, Goldilocks."

"Yeah. I'm already better."

He chuckled. Then he got to his feet and took her hands, helping her stand.

He thought about kissing her again.

But he didn't.

He turned away and went to the sink. She stood there a moment, watching him as he put stuff away, and he wondered – hoped, even – that maybe this time she'd kiss him.

She didn't.

She walked out of the bathroom and shut the door gently behind her.

Dean sighed into the empty room, his fingers fumbling, and knocked a bottle into the sink. He rolled his eyes, picking the bottle up and placing it where it belonged. He glanced at the closed door.

He admitted to himself, just for a moment, that he really wanted to kiss her –even just touch her – again.

* * *

Jayne was out the bathroom door and headed for her duffel, but the sight of the bed directly beside the door she'd just exited tripped her up. She stopped short, staring. Her stepsister was fast asleep, her chest moving up and down – thankfully – and Lynn was spooned up against Sam Winchester, who was also out for the count.

They both looked so peaceful like that, more peaceful and content that she'd ever seen either of them look while awake. She stared at them, her eyes suddenly burning.

The bathroom door opened and Dean stepped into the room. He stopped just as she had, eyes on his brother and her stepsister.

She expected him to mock the two sleeping hunters, to have some sort of semi-funny quip at their expense. He didn't. He just stared for a few moments, torn between surprised and… and something else… and then he moved on, crossing the room to his duffel.

Jayne stared at Lynn and Sam a little while longer. She blinked, swallowed. Felt stomach-turningly envious. Hated herself for it. Failed to totally understand why.

She tore her eyes away and headed for her own duffel.

Dean, shirtless and wearing only his boxers, flopped down on the other bed. "Which side do you want?" he asked, smirking, throwing her joke back at her.

She smirked back. "Left side."

He flopped down on the side she'd requested and gave her a tremendous shit-eating grin. She rolled her eyes.

She changed into sweats as he leaned a shot gun against the wall, behind the headboard, and slid a long knife under his pillow. She put the safety on her pistol and tucked it beneath her pillow before climbing into bed beside him.

The lights went out. They lay side by side, silently, carefully not touching. So stupid, after that scene in the bathroom. She wanted to touch him again. She wanted to not want to touch him again.

She heard him sniff.

Jayne frowned, listening hard. There was another sniff and a shaky intake of breath.

She rolled over. He looked away.

For a moment, Jayne just stared at the side of his jaw, his ear. He didn't look back at her. She raised herself up on her elbow and reached out. Her fingers brushed against his cheek and came back wet.

He pointedly would not look at her. She kept staring at him, feeling a strange twist in her gut, not knowing entirely what to do. She understood, of course. He missed his father. He was worried. Scared.

She reached out again and wiped a few tears from his cheek. She brushed a hand over his hair.

Slowly, he looked at her.

She cupped his cheek in her hand and pressed herself into his side.

Without warning, his arm snaked around her waist and pinned her to his chest. She found herself trapped beneath him. His arms wrapped around her waist and he buried his face in her neck.

He needed to shave. The stubble scratched and poked against her skin. It was wet between his cheek and her neck.

He didn't make a sound. Shed only a few more tears. Little dribbles and nothing more. He was like her. He didn't cry much, and when he did, it was almost like he'd forgotten how.

She put her arms around him and snuggled into his warmth, her eyes getting a little wet too.

A thought occurred to her. She was sure she was the only woman to ever see Dean Winchester like this, to ever hold him in this particular way, to see him this weak.

Not that he was weak. He wasn't weak. Not really. Just sad. And he was allowed.

There was a strange sort of pride in the thought that she might be the first woman since Mary Winchester to see Dean cry. A strange, sick little part of her wondered if she'd be the last. Almost hoped, in fact.

She wondered if their roles would ever be reversed, but she doubted it. Doubted she'd ever let him see her like this. She was ok with being the strong one. She was good at it. She was used to it. She wasn't sure she knew how to be anything else.

But then she remembered the scene outside the Impala just hours ago. And realized she wasn't always the strong one. And the only one who really got to see it was Dean.

It was a long time before either of them fell asleep, and she knew in the morning that they wouldn't speak about this. They never spoke about anything that happened between them. They'd pretend it never happened and go on as normal. It was their shtick.

_We've got something, we both know it, we don't talk too much about it._

She closed her eyes. Sniffed at his hair – a seriously creepy move that she would never admit she'd done and that he better never find out about.

Vowed to never bring this night up. Ever.


	44. Hell House

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to Lov3good, supernatural94, deargoodbye, Lynx, AshlynPaige92, impalame, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, BlueEyedPisces, Nelle07, Penny, Spelllesswonder29, 321K-Girl, SingingInTheRain1989, tbelle1234, Peridot809, angeleyenc, Joan J., ThreeMoons, Dean's Wife, MYP and legrowl for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 44: Hell House

Jayne stared at the back bumper of Dean's Impala as she navigated old busted Janis down Interstate 35, through East Texas.

She was done wondering why she was still following them. She didn't care why anymore. Two weeks of dodging demons, shuffling from one random point to the next, hoping to throw Meg Masters off their trail, trying to heal from the deva attacks and still work cases… now, two weeks was up and they were in East Texas and she was still following that Impala down the road.

If Lynn had been pressing her for explanations, Jayne might have been bothered to come up with some sort of excuse. But Lynn hadn't been asking. Jayne suspected that for once, she and Lynn were on the same page. Lynn was right where they both wanted to be.

After that night in that motel two hours outside Chicago, they had not shared another motel room. They had not shared beds. They had fallen into a routine, the four of them. Driving in their separate cars, sleeping in their separate rooms, eating together in the diners and mini-marts. Laughing, joking, talking about anything that wasn't Stephen Juarez or John Winchester or _the_ demon – that scary son of a bitch.

Working cases that were, to be frank, small potatoes. Pretending everything was fine. Pretending Lynn hadn't nearly died, that Sam hadn't held her all night, that Dean hadn't kissed Jayne in that bathroom, that she hadn't pulled him into her arms in bed and let him cry on her neck.

But always remembering. _Always._

Lynn had her boots perched against the glove compartment, and was banging her head on the back of the passenger seat. "Jayne…" she groaned.

Jayne sighed. "What?"

"No more Johnny Cash. _Please_… I am so _freaking_ bored!"

"Well, I'm not letting you hook your IPod up to the cassette deck. The last time you got to pick road tunes, I had to listen to Lady Gaga for _two_ hours! That is not happening again!"

"Lady Gaga is amazingly talented!"

"No, Janis Joplin is amazingly talented! Lady Gaga…"

"Oh, blah, blah, blah, I don't want to hear it! Joplin is a fossil!"

"Lady Gaga _wishes_ that twenty years down the road she could _become_ a fossil!"

"Can we just listen to something we _both_ like? Here… how about some Snow Patrol?"

"Was that a joke?"

"Citizen Cope?"

"Yeah, right! Is it Backwards Day?"

"Jesus… how about Hole?"

"Ha! No."

"Fine!"

Lynn yanked the Johnny Cash cassette out of the tape deck and connected her IPod. Seconds later, Led Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song," had replaced "Ghost Riders in the Sky."

"There," Lynn said, sighing theatrically. "Fair compromise?"

Jayne grunted grudgingly, but didn't complain.

They fell silent, still following the Impala.

"So…" Jayne murmured. "What was this case Sam dug up?"

Lynn sighed. "Some sort of haunted house in Richardson. I guess it's haunted by this whack job ghost that likes to hang chicks from the basement ceiling."

"Hmm. Cheery."

"Yeah. I guess some teenagers went poking around in there a few months back and found a dead girl in there. Hanging from the ceiling, just like in the legend. By the time the cops got there, she was gone."

"Oh, I see. So we're going on a wild goose chase instigated by bored high school kids?"

"Jaynie…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Where'd he dig this up again?"

"Uh… some paranormal website… …"

Jayne snorted. "Oh yeah. That sounds like a reliable source."

"I know, but… well, hell, we got the time. Why not check it out?"

"True, but… shit, isn't that what we been doing for the past two weeks? Checking everything out? We've been working some pretty lame ass cases."

"I know, but…"

"Like that job back in Oklahoma? The supposed chupacabra that was actually a coyote with mange?"

"All right, that was lame, but…"

"I don't know what it is, but it feels like we're just stalling, Lynn. Granted, I don't really know what we're stalling for… don't really know what we're putting off… but still. These cases we've been working lately…"

"Look, I know what you mean. They're training wheels cases, right? Well, has it occurred to you that maybe that's exactly what they are and we might be working them for a reason?"

"Honestly? No."

"We've been sticking with the Winchesters since Chicago. Neither you nor I have made any attempt to leave, to break off, to even suggest heading our own way. And in case you haven't noticed, neither Sam nor Dean has made any attempt to get rid of us. In fact, they've been acting like they _expect_ us to stick around… like we've formed some sort of… Justice League type alliance."

"What's your point? You want to split off again, because I might be ok with that…"

"My point is that we're sticking together – despite the fact that, in tried and true Jayne Gibson-slash-Winchesters fashion, we haven't bothered to discuss exactly what the hell it is we're doing. We're just acting like we already talked about it and hoping everybody's on the same page…"

"Well, why don't you resort to that tried and true Lynn Juarez fashion? You know, trap us all in the same room and demand answers?"

"Don't you think I'm not planning on it! Anyway, my point is that we seem to be officially hunting together. Not just meeting up every once in a while to work a single case – actually hunting together. So… maybe this is like practice time, you know? Getting used to the 'together' dynamic."

"That's bullshit," Jayne retorted. "We've been hunting together for months now. So we used to split up in between cases and now we don't. What's that matter? We already know how we work together."

"Yeah, but it's different when we're on the road together, all the time. You know that. You know things are different between me and you than between us and them."

Jayne sighed.

"And P.S... I _do_ in fact want answers. I've kept quiet for a little while because honestly… I _want_ to stick with the Winchesters."

Jayne made no comment.

"But I can only do this float by, dance around the issue bull crap for so long, and my patience has officially cracked."

Again, Jayne made no comment.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah, I heard you."

"Well, give me some answers, damn it! What are we doing?"

"Why would I know?" Jayne snapped. "You think I've been having in-depth, detailed discussions with Sam and Dean behind your back?"

Lynn sighed. "All right… what do you _want_ then? Do you really want to stick together, hunt with them permanently?"

"Well, I don't know about permanently…"

"Ok… let me rephrase. Do you really want to stick it out with them and hunt side by side until we've finally found that demon and put it in the ground?"

Jayne stared at the Impala's back bumper.

"Jayne?"

"I don't know, ok! I just… don't know."

Lynn stared at her. Then she nodded.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Jayne shot her a glare out of the corner of her eye, but didn't dispute the comment.

"When we get into Richardson, I'm making the boys talk about this," Lynn said decidedly.

"So… you're going to scare them into claiming that they don't want us to stick around… and then you're going to get super offended and storm on out of here just to spite them?"

"No!"

"Really? Because I'm willing to bet that's exactly what's going to happen."

"Is it really so wrong that I need to know what's going on here?"

"No. I'm just saying…"

"And I'm just saying that I'm tired of guessing games. I want clarity, damn it, and I intend to get it."

Jayne sighed heavily, eyes on the road.

"All right. Whatever makes you happy."

They fell silent and remained so for the rest of the trip.

* * *

The Rodeo Drive-In was a rundown greasy burger joint with a cheesy cowboy theme and the kind of prices that teenagers could afford. Lynn crumpled her nose at the cheap exterior and the gaggles of teenagers crowded on the patio, shoving their faces with fries and milkshakes.

She stepped down from the cab and approached the boys, Jayne following close behind. They were bickering, and Sam looked irritated.

"What's wrong with you two?" Lynn asked.

Sam looked at her and said, deadpan, "Dean put a plastic spoon in my mouth while I was sleeping."

Jayne laughed.

Sam glared at her.

"I got a picture," Dean grinned, stepping over to Jayne's side and whipping out his cell phone.

Lynn was tempted to take a look, but refrained when she saw Sam's face. "You took a picture!" he exclaimed.

Dean smirked.

"Just remember who started this," Sam warned his brother, pointing a threatening finger in his direction.

"Bring it, Baldy."

Lynn blinked. "Baldy?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It's a long story."

"Not really," Dean said. "I put Nair in Sam's shampoo when he was fourteen. He didn't have hair for two weeks."

Jayne snorted. Lynn put her hand over her mouth to hide her smirk. Sam's eyes narrowed.

"Fine, it's a really short story," Sam snapped. "You're a freaking jerk. Now let's just go interview those kids, all right?"

He stomped off inside the burger place.

"Well, someone's got their panties in a twist," Dean announced.

Sam responded by walking faster.

Lynn shot the older Winchester a warning look. "You're being a little immature right now," she told him.

Dean shrugged. "What else is new?"

Lynn sighed and shook her head.

The interview with the three kids who'd seen that dead girl hanging from the ceiling in that haunted house's basement wasn't exactly informative, and Lynn could feel herself getting more and more irritated as the kids answered more and more questions.

Oh, sure they gleaned a little vital info. Like the layout of the house. Apparently the walls were painted black – or maybe it was red – hell, it might have been blood.

The walls also had these freaky symbols all over them – like stars and crosses and Pentecostals – which, if memory served, were members of a branch of Christianity, so that might be fun to see.

And the girl in the rafters? Well, she either had red, blonde, or black hair, so… that narrowed it down.

In truth, the only real information they'd gleaned from the teenagers was the name of the boy who'd shown them the house in the first place and told them the legend of Mordechai Murdoch – the house's original owner.

His name was Craig Thurston, and he worked in the local record shop.

Which was why the four hunters were now standing inside the local record shop. It was a pretty cliché looking place – had that whole rock-n-roll hippie pot den vibe going on.

Craig Thurston looked pretty cliché too. His back story even more so.

They'd introduced themselves as reporters for the Dallas Morning News, claiming they wanted to ask him about the haunted house for an article.

His response?

"Really? You know, I'm a writer too. I write for my school's lit magazine."

To which Dean responded with, "Good for you… Morrison."

Craig was more helpful than his friends.

"Supposedly, back in the thirties, this farmer, Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in the Hell House with his six daughters. It was during the Depression, his crops were failing. He didn't even have enough money to feed his own children. So I guess that's when he went off the deep end. He figured it'd be best if his girls died quick, rather than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed. Begged for him to stop. But he just strung them up, one after the other. And when it was all finished he turned around and hung himself. Now they say that his spirit is trapped in the house, stringing up any other girl that goes inside."

The story was more than anything else they'd managed to find. Still, Craig couldn't tell them where the tale originated – only that he'd heard it from his cousin.

And it was pretty obvious that Craig wrote for his school's literary magazine, because the only way he could have made his retelling of the ghost story more melodramatic would have been to hold a flashlight under his chin.

Finally, the four hunters left the record shop and dragged themselves off to the nearest cheap motel – which happened to be called Wyeth's Western Inn.

It was like being trapped in some cheesy Old West theme park. Everywhere Lynn turned, Richardson, Texas had managed to build some sort of symbol of their western heritage.

You'd think they'd be trying to disprove the stereotypes rather than reinforce them.

"All right," Dean announced, keys jangling in his hand as they approached their rooms – two, each with two queen-sized beds, located side by side. "I say we grab a few hours sleep and then head out to the Hell House tomorrow… take a look for ourselves."

"Sounds like a plan," Jayne agreed, stepping towards the room she shared with Lynn, keys out and ready to unlock the door.

Lynn wanted to talk to the Winchesters before they did anything else, but that plan went straight to hell when Dean swung open the door to his motel room, and both he and Sam disappeared inside.

She stared after them, irritated, tapping her toe on the sidewalk, as Jayne unlocked the motel room door and opened it up, stepping inside and flicking the light switch. "You coming in or not?" she asked.

Lynn stomped into the room and shut the door harder than necessary. Her stepsister rolled her eyes.

"What's _this_ tantrum about?" she drawled.

Lynn leveled Jayne with a deadly glower. "I wanted to talk to them," she said.

Jayne shrugged. "Do it tomorrow."

"We keep putting this off, though. I'm starting to think…"

"What?" Jayne interrupted. "That we're never going to talk about it? Sounds good to me."

"Well, it sounds ridiculous to me," Lynn countered, getting more and more annoyed with every word. "Doesn't it bother you that we don't know where we stand?"

Jayne shrugged. "Not really."

"Oh, ok. So you're perfectly fine tagging along behind Sam and Dean without actually knowing whether or not you're wanted."

"I told you. If you want to split up again, I'm ok with it."

"And I told you. I don't want to split up. I just want to make sure we're all on the same page."

Jayne sighed heavily, flopping on one of the beds. "If it's that important to you, bring it up tomorrow."

Lynn sighed too. "Right. Ok."

"What?"

"I know you, Jayne. And more importantly, I know them. The three of you are going to make me dance around this issue as long as you possibly can. You're going to avoid this conversation until it absolutely can be avoided no more. You are going to _drive me crazy_!"

Jayne shrugged. "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

Lynn didn't believe her.

* * *

Dean surveyed the rotting, dilapidated and gray monstrosity of a farmhouse that was located just feet from the winding mud road. His boots squished in the soft damp ground as he approached the leaning front porch, his brother and their two friends following close behind.

"So much for curb appeal," he announced, sidestepping a puddle.

Sam snorted.

The four split, poking around in four strategized corners. Jayne stepped up carefully on the front porch, frowning in the broken windows. Lynn took one side of the porch, prodding at some dying bushes, while Sam took the other, peering in through a smudged pane of glass. Dean stood on the damp grass, EMF out and trying to get a reading.

"You get anything?" Sam asked, abandoning his peeping and rejoining his brother.

Dean shook his head, frowning at the erratic readings. "EMF's no good."

"Why not?"

He jerked his head in the direction of the old power lines outside the farmhouse. "I think that thing's still got some juice in it. It's messing with all the readings."

Sam nodded, eyeing the power lines as well. "That'd do it."

"We going in or not?" Jayne asked from the porch, sounding impatient.

"Hold your horses, Goldilocks," Dean retorted, smirking in her direction.

The four of them moved into the house, Dean keeping his eye peeled for trouble. Jayne and Lynn entered ahead of him and Sam, and Dean frowned at them a little too long, thinking.

They'd been together, the four of them, for a record long time now.

Two whole weeks, hunting side by side. Sure, most of the cases were fall-throughs. Most of the past two weeks had been about healing up after that skank and her demonic pets tore them to shreds in Chicago. It had been important to keep moving, to make sure they'd thrown Meg the bitch off their trail. And at the time, it had never occurred to either him or Sam that the stepsisters should be leaving. It had seemed wise to stick together.

Now, he was starting to feel secure again. Less like he was the one being hunted. So it was time for Jayne and Lynn to leave, the way they usually did.

He did not want them to go.

He didn't see any reason to tell them that; obviously they didn't want to leave either because they weren't. It was odd, but he kind of liked having them around. For so long, it had just been him and his Dad – and more often than not, it had really been just Dean. Then, it had been Dean and Sam… and now, it was Dean, Sam, Jayne, and Lynn… and Dean liked it. He couldn't deny it – not to himself, at least.

Of course, it was problematic in its own way. Things weren't awkward between him and Jayne, surprisingly, but they had the potential to become so. He remembered the night his father left – _again_ – all too well… he remembered what had happened in that motel room.

He wasn't going to bring it up, though. If she brought it up… well, the kiss was one thing. But what had happened later…

If she brought it up, he would deny, deny, _deny._

Of course, she wouldn't bring it up. That was one of the reasons he liked her.

The inside of the Murdoch place was as bad as the exterior. The walls were gray, dirty and falling down. Rotten curtains hung in the windows, rotting furniture littered the dilapidated rooms. The walls were not painted red or black, as it turned out, but they _were_ covered in symbols. Candles and other such supposed satanic paraphernalia were scattered about the house. The candles looked brand new, which was odd considering the state of everything else in the house.

Dean eyed an upside down cross painted on the wall before him. "Looks like Mordechai was a bit of tagger in his time," he said.

"And after his time too," Sam returned, frowning at another of the symbols. He whipped out his cell phone to take a picture. "The reversed cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this Sigil of Sulfur didn't appear in San Francisco until the 60s."

Dean stared incredulously at his little brother's back. "See, that is exactly why you never get laid."

That comment earned him a glare from over Sam's shoulder.

Dean crossed the room to where Jayne was standing, frowning at a strange symbol by the stairs. It looked like a cross, except it didn't join in the middle, and the bottom line resembled an upside down question mark.

"Hey, what about this one?" he asked Sam. "Seen this one before?"

"No."

"I have," Dean returned. "Somewhere…"

He glanced at Jayne. "What about you, Goldilocks?"

She was still frowning at the symbol. "I don't know," she murmured. "It looks kind of familiar to me too."

Sam joined them and reached out, touching the symbol on the wall. "It's paint," he announced. "Seems pretty fresh too."

"And these candles?" Lynn called from the mantelpiece, picking up one of the bright red candles in question. "You know, the ones that seem incredibly clean and brand new? Never been used."

"I don't know, Sam," Dean murmured. "I mean, I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but… I think the cops might be right about this one."

"Great," Jayne grumbled. "Another chupacabra case."

"Shut it," Dean growled. "That coyote was one scary looking mother-fucker."

There was a sudden clatter from the direction of the kitchen.

Instantly, Dean was on guard. He glanced at Sam, who nodded. He exchanged a brief look with Jayne, and then Lynn, and then the four of them were moving, towards the kitchen, up against the wall outside the swinging door.

Sam pushed the door open, and the four of them burst into the next room, only to be instantly assaulted by bright, blinding lights, and frightened yelps.

"What the hell?" Dean thundered.

When the lights were finally lowered and the commotion died down, Dean got a good look at exactly what was lurking in the Hell House kitchen.

Two dweeby looking dudes, both considerably shorter than Dean and his brother, were standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking as irritated as Dean felt. They had large packs strewn about the room, large flashlights in their hands, and some serious high tech equipment. One had curly blonde hair, glasses, and a really pitiful looking beard. The other was pale, scrawny, with black hair.

"Cut!" the blonde one hollered. "It's just some humans!"

"What are you guys doing here?" the black-haired one demanded.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Dean countered.

The blonde one scoffed. "Uh… we belong here? We're professionals."

"Professional what?" Dean retorted.

"Let me guess," Jayne commented dryly on his right. "Exterminators?"

"Paranormal investigators, smartass," the blonde one snapped.

He whipped a stack of business cards out his jacket, fanning them out with a snap. Each of the four hunters took one, brows raised.

Then the distributor of business cards, eyeing each of the hunters before him, took a good look at Lynn and smiled, eyes traveling up and down her generous curves.

Lynn noticed and began shifting around uncomfortably, moving closer to Sam. The blonde wasn't deterred in the slightest.

Dean chuckled under his breath, looking down at the card in his hand. Good luck with that, Dorkzilla. Lynn was _so_ out of this guy's league.

The card read Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler, Hellhoundslair. net.

"You're the guys that run that site," Sam announced.

Excellent powers of observation, Sam.

"Yeah, we're huge fans," Dean drawled sarcastically.

"Yeah," the blonde one retorted. "And we know who you guys are too."

Dean stopped his movement towards the opposite end of the kitchen, turning back and raising an eyebrow. The other three hunters were frowning too. "Really?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Amateurs. Looking for ghosts and cheap thrills."

He winked at Lynn.

Lynn frowned and started analyzing the ceiling.

Dean felt small relief at the response, but also vaguely annoyed amusement. Right. They were the amateurs.

"Yeah," the dark haired dweeb spoke up. "So, if you don't mind… we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here."

"Yeah?" Dean returned sarcastically. "What have you got so far?"

"Well, Harry…" the blonde one said in a hilariously superior tone of voice. "Why don't you tell them about EMF?"

"EMF?" Sam repeated, feigning interest.

Dean snuck a look at his brother, and they shared a smirk. Lynn was eyeing both Dean and Sam like she thought they were being jerks for no good reason – despite the fact that Ed Zeddmore's attentions were obviously making her uncomfortable. Jayne, however, looked as amused as Dean felt.

"Electro-magnetic field?" Harry returned. "Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector."

He withdrew a high tech version of Dean's homemade EMF detector and pulled out the antenna.

Ed snatched the detector out of his hand and stepped closer to Lynn. She frowned, shifting uncomfortably, as he leaned into her side, EMF detector in hand.

"Like this bad boy right here," he said, grinning. "Look at that… _2.8_… it's hot in here."

"Wow," Sam commented.

Dean let loose a mocking whistle.

Lynn mustered up a half-hearted smile for the guy leaning into her arm. "You want to hold it?" he asked, grinning suggestively.

This guy had absolutely no game.

"You know what?" Lynn said, smiling at him a little too brightly. "I'm good, thanks."

She took a step away from Ed Zeddmore.

Ed closed the distance again.

"Huh," Dean commented. "So, uh…. have you guys actually seen a ghost before, or…"

"Once," Ed said solemnly.

Dean cocked an eyebrow.

Jayne barely managed to hide her eye roll.

"We were investigating this old house," Ed explained, addressing Lynn, and Lynn only. "And we saw a vase fall right off a table."

"By itself," Harry added.

Ed was grinning in Lynn's face. She gave him another strained smile and Dean barely managed to contain his laughter. "I mean… we didn't actually _see _it," he went on. "But we heard it. And uh… something like that? It changes you."

He nodded solemnly at Lynn.

"I'll bet," she said with a smile she clearly did not mean.

"Well, I think I get the picture," Dean spoke up, taking pity on Lynn. "We should go. Let them get back to work."

Jayne snorted. Sam nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Definitely," Lynn spoke up.

"You know, you want to stick around?" Ed suddenly asked her. "Your pals are kind of in the way, but… you might have some potential as a paranormal investigator. I can sense it."

"Can you?" Lynn asked, backing away from him. "That's uh… really flattering. But…"

"We could show you the ropes," Ed smirked. "Give you a _hands on_ training experience."

Wow. Watching this guy attempt to hit on Lynn was actually painful. Dean winced, shaking his head, trying with all his might not to laugh out loud.

"Yeah… you know what?" Lynn said, ducking behind Sam. "No."

"No?"

"No."

"Let's just go," Jayne spoke up, moving towards the door.

"Yeah, I think that would be best," Harry said.

"Good luck with your work," Sam offered.

"Work," Ed snorted. He started chuckling as the other four made their way out of the kitchen. "I'm sorry, that pot we smoked gave me the giggles."

The four hunters left the paranormal investigating duo behind, heading for the exit. "Ok," Lynn announced. "That was really scary."

Jayne laughed. "Yeah, it did look pretty terrifying."

"Thanks for your help," Lynn added, glaring at all of them. "All of you, really. I appreciate it."

"Anytime," Dean smirked.

She shuddered.

"Well, it looks like this whole case is a bust," Jayne observed.

"Maybe," Sam murmured. "I think we should do a little more research, just to be sure."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean asked, irritated. "More research? Wasn't the geek squad back there enough evidence?"

Sam sighed harshly. "Just because they don't know what they're doing doesn't mean there's nothing in that house."

Lynn sighed too. "Sam's right," she admitted, not sounding happy about it. "We need to make sure nothing's going on here before we leave."

"Fine," Dean grumbled.

They stepped down off the dilapidated front porch and crossed to the muddy road, beginning the hike back to the shrubbery where Dean had parked the Impala.

* * *

The Impala coasted to a stop outside the Lone Star Tavern. Sam rolled his eyes at the name, but held his tongue.

They had just finished up their research and not one of the four hunters had anything to show for it. Now, after discussing the big steamy pile of nothing… and watching Dean getting assailed by loud salsa music, high speed windshield wipers and a variety of other on-switches – funniest thing he'd seen in a long time and so worth whatever prank Dean threw back at him… they were stopping for a beer. Dean had decided – the way he usually did – that they were going to blow off some steam, catch a few hours sleep, and then hit the road in the morning.

He had decided _all four of them_ were going to do this. Sam wasn't sure what to think about that.

It wasn't that he wanted Jayne and Lynn to leave. He just… didn't understand why they hadn't.

Or, to be perfectly honest, he didn't understand why they hadn't discussed any of this yet – why they hadn't talked about the fact that Jayne and Lynn seemed to be permanently riding with Sam and his brother.

It was a really odd thing to ignore. It was the sort of thing they _should_ be discussing. Sam would bring it up, but he wasn't sure how. He sensed it would be a sensitive subject for Dean.

He knew something Dean didn't know he knew. He'd woken up early, that morning after Chicago, before anyone else. Lynn had still been in his arms…

Sam had to shake off the image of her scratched up face and her ripped up chest. Even now, when he thought about it, it turned his stomach.

He had just laid there for a while, holding her. When he glanced over at the other bed, he'd been startled to see his brother lying on top of Jayne, his face buried in her neck, her arms around him.

Sam had looked away, closed his eyes, and gone back to sleep with great difficulty. He knew neither Dean nor Jayne would be happy to know someone had witnessed them spooning in their sleep, and he decided he wouldn't let them know someone had. They could be private and secretive if they needed to be.

Still, he had seen and now he knew, and he had to wonder if, just maybe, whatever had happened between Dean and Jayne that night was part of the reason Jayne and Lynn had stuck around.

The four of them entered the dark, smoky bar. "You guys grab a table," Lynn said. "I'll get first round."

"Sounds good to me," Dean smirked.

Sam watched Lynn head for the bar and fell into step behind Dean and Jayne, tuning them out as they joked around and picked on each other.

They took a booth in a dark corner of the bar. "Man, I'm going to be glad to get out of this place," Jayne commented. "I don't think I can take anymore Texas pride."

Dean chortled.

Sam wasn't quite ready to let go of the case yet. "I don't know," he murmured. "I just think something more is going on around here."

"Sam, what more proof do you need?" Dean returned. "The whole Murdoch legend was a complete fabrication, there haven't been any missing girls reported in the area, and the guys running that bullshit site were… well, you met them."

Sam winced. "Yeah. That I did."

"I'm telling you, Sammy," Dean said. "This place is clean. Whatever happened in that house was just cranks and pranks."

He smirked. "Speaking of which… I am so going to get you for that little stunt you pulled with my car."

Sam grinned at his brother. "Fine. But just remember who started this."

"Wow," Jayne commented, shaking her head. "Prank war. That's… mature. How old are you two again?"

"Shut it, Goldilocks," Dean retorted.

Lynn slid into the booth beside Sam and plopped down four PBRs. Dean snatched his and took a huge swig. Sam rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his own.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched Lynn gulp down half the bottle in one go.

"So…" Lynn announced, putting her beer bottle back down on the table. "I think we need to talk."

Sam frowned.

Dean groaned. "Great. This can't be fun."

Jayne began playing with the label on her beer bottle.

"So… I know Chicago is sort of a sensitive subject…"

"Then why are you bringing it up?" Dean snapped.

Sam glanced at him in surprise. Dean's joking, laughing demeanor had vanished. He had fixed Lynn with a stony, dangerous look.

Jayne glanced at Dean too. Sam looked back at Lynn, who had hesitated under Dean's glower. But she pushed on.

"I don't want to talk about Chicago," she said carefully. "That's… in the past. But… look, I just want to know what we're doing here."

Sam had similar thoughts, and to be honest, he was actually sort of glad Lynn had brought it up. Dean, on the other hand, didn't look any happier than he had when she'd first broached the subject.

"We're hunting a ghost," he retorted. "Or we were, until we figured out that the ghost wasn't real. So now we're drinking."

He delivered a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Lynn narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, and Sam saw her throw all caution to the wind. Dean was grating on her nerves, and she was no longer worried about how to approach this subject. That was what happened when you put people like Lynn and Dean in the same room. Lynn wanted to talk, Dean didn't, and the moment Dean made a smartass comment, Lynn would forget all about tact.

Sam closed his eyes and hoped there wouldn't be yelling.

"You know that's not what I meant," Lynn returned, tone strained. "Look, we've been traveling together for the past two weeks. At first, I got it. I mean, after what happened with Meg and your father…"

Dean's grip on his beer bottle visibly tightened.

"It made sense to stick together," Lynn pressed on. "But now… things are slowly returning to semi-normal, and… I just want to know what all this means."

Sam nodded, forcing his mouth into a smile. "That's fair," he assured her.

"And what exactly _is_ the 'all this' that you're talking about?" Dean demanded. He didn't look like he thought Lynn's questions were fair at all.

Great. This was going to be bad.

Lynn glared at Dean. "Please tell me you actually _do_ know what I'm talking about and you're just pretending not to in order to be a dick."

And there went the tact.

Sam glanced at Jayne for help. What he saw threw him. There certainly wasn't going to be any help from her corner. She looked uncomfortable and nervous. Her eyes were focused on the table top, she was drinking her beer too fast, and her eyes were wide with something that resembled panic. She didn't know what to do.

She was afraid, Sam suddenly realized. She was afraid of what someone was going to say. And Sam would bet his laptop that someone making her so nervous right now was Dean and not Lynn.

Dean eyed Lynn coldly. "You want to say that again, sweetheart?"

"Enough," Sam intervened. "Dean, we really do need to discuss this."

"Discuss what?"

"The past two weeks!" Lynn snapped. "This whole unspoken arrangement we seem to have made. One of you says go here, Jayne and I follow. Jayne or I say go there, and you two follow. We keep tiptoeing around exactly what our situation is, and I'm sorry, but I can't do that anymore. I need to know where we stand."

"Hey, if you want to bail, go right ahead," Dean retorted. "Ain't no one making you stay."

Lynn narrowed her eyes, nostril's flaring. "So is that your answer? You want Jayne and me gone?"

Sam stared at his brother.

Dean glared at Lynn. He said nothing.

"Well?" Lynn pushed, and Sam kind of wanted to smack her. She was only making things worse. "Is that what you want, Dean? Are we in the way? Because if you don't want us here, then we won't stay. We'll leave right now."

"Go right ahead," Dean returned.

"Fine."

And Lynn was on her feet, eyes on the door.

Jayne, sandwiched between Sam and Dean in the booth, couldn't follow right away. She winced, looking up at Lynn, and then glancing at Dean.

Dean stared at his beer.

Sam slid to the end of the booth and grabbed Lynn's wrist. "I don't want you to leave," he announced.

Lynn whipped her head around to look at him, surprise flickering in her eyes.

"You don't?" she asked.

Sam shook his head. "Just sit down. Please?"

She stared at him. Then she nodded.

"Ok."

She sat back down.

Sam took a deep breath. "Look… I think it makes sense if we all stick together for a while."

"Do you?" Dean asked snidely.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam snapped.

His brother glared at him.

Sam took another deep breath and shook his head. "What happened in Chicago… obviously, whatever this thing is, it's something bad. Something… more than we can handle alone. If we're going to keep hunting for the thing that killed Jess and our Moms… I think we need to join forces. For good. We'll ride together for a little while. We'll stick together until… until we find this thing and we kill it. Honestly, I just don't see any other way we're going to survive this hunt."

Lynn nodded, although he thought he detected a slight disappointment in her eyes. "I agree," she said. "I've been thinking along the same lines. If it's starting to target us, to target our families… then we need to be a lot more careful. And we can start by having constant backup. We should stick together."

Sam nodded. "Ok. Good. So we're all agreed?"

He looked at Jayne and Dean. Dean said nothing. He didn't even look up from the table.

Jayne was staring at Dean as she spoke.

"I think you two are probably on to something," she said carefully. "Maybe we _should_ keep going together. For a little while."

She kept looking at Dean. Dean still said nothing.

Sam stared at Dean too. "Dean?" he asked.

"Whatever," his brother said.

Sam sighed. "Ok. Looks like we're all on the same page."

Lynn smiled. "That's all I wanted."

Sam smiled back.

He wondered if Lynn realized exactly how big a can of worms she'd just opened.

* * *

Jayne leaned against the wall outside the motel, waiting for her stepsister to fish out her keys and unlock the door.

They'd just returned from the bar. It was still early, and they hadn't had too much to drink. Everyone was a little buzzed, but no one was drunk, and Sam and Lynn had spent the ride back to the motel discussing which case they should tackle next.

Sam was smiling too much, and Lynn was getting a little loud. They were still giggling and talking to each other as Jayne waited, silently, staring at the scene before her.

Dean leaned against the wall beside her, equally silent.

"There were those cattle mutilations west of here," Sam announced.

Lynn snorted, giggling a little. "West Texas? I can barely tolerate East Texas!"

Sam laughed out loud, and then immediately sobered. "Texas isn't any different than any other state," he reprimanded her.

"Sam, our motel is called Wyeth's Western Inn."

Sam started laughing again.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Lynn," she barked. "Keys."

Lynn sighed loudly. "All right, all right. Sheesh. Good night, Sam."

"Good night."

Sam went to his motel room door and unlocked it. He ambled inside and left the door standing open for Dean to follow.

Lynn unlocked their room and ducked inside, leaving the door open the same way Sam had.

Jayne nodded at Dean. "See you tomorrow."

She pushed herself off the wall.

"Hey," he said.

She looked at him.

"Lynn… she knows that… I mean, what happened in the bar, that was a little… intense."

Jayne stared at him.

He stared back, his eyes searching.

She shrugged. "Yeah. Kind of saw that coming."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I told her not to bring it up. I mean… it's not like it was that important. I was fine going along the way we had been."

"Yeah. Me too."

Silence.

"You all right?" Dean asked.

Jayne frowned. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

More silence.

She stared at him for a long time. He stared at the parking lot, scratching at the back of his neck.

Where it came from, she didn't know. Maybe it was the buzz off the beer. Maybe she was just tired. Tired of the bullshit. Tired of breaking through, and then closing the wall back up.

"You know," she whispered. "You could have said you didn't want me to go."

He jerked his head towards her, his eyes going wide, startled.

She looked away. "Jackass," she muttered.

He stared at her.

She walked into the motel room and shut the door behind her.

* * *

When the alarm went off the next morning, Sam had been startled awake by the local morning news.

"… after her friends called local law enforcement. She was found early this morning, inside the old house, hanging from the basement ceiling. Police are currently calling it a suicide, but…"

Immediately, he had hauled Dean out of bed, ordering him dressed. Then he'd thrown on his own clothes and rushed next door to wake up Lynn and Jayne.

They'd skipped breakfast and coffee, much to his brother's annoyance, and then the four hunters had driven back out to the old Murdoch place.

Sure enough, the police were swarming around outside the old, gray, dilapidated house. A few neighbors had come to gawk. Sam chose a balding man in a brown jacket, and the four hunters approached him.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"A couple of cops say that poor girl hung herself inside that house," the man replied, nodding towards the ambulance parked outside the front door.

Sam watched as paramedics hauled a stretcher out of the house, the body on it completely covered in a white sheet. "Suicide?" he asked.

The man nodded. "And she was a straight A student too, with a full ride to UT. It just doesn't make sense."

Shaking his head, the man turned away and walked towards the ambulance.

Sam took a deep breath, eyes darting all around the scene. He'd had a bad feeling about this case since they'd started working it, Hellhoundslair. net be damned. Now there was no doubt in his mind that there was something supernatural about that house.

He looked at the other three hunters, who were staring at the house as well. "What do you think?" he asked.

Dean shrugged. "I think we missed something."


	45. Electric Feel

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to hulahula551, Lynx, SingingInTheRain1989, Lov3good, AnonymousForeverandEver, legrowl, BlueEyedPisces, supernatural94, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, Joan J., angeleyenc, AshlynPaige92, Penny, deargoodbye, Nelle07, deansbabygirl934, hornblowerarchiekennedyfan, Carver Edlund, tiaracove, I Don't Bite – Much, ThreeMoons, MYP, toolazytologin, GoLdFiSh Oo, xXxKaraBeckerCutterxXx, PushUpDasies, sweetnsour, Black2Impala, and wizziewoo123 for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 45: Electric Feel

It was cold, damp, and dark out on the Murdoch property.

Jayne hunkered down in the brush outside the house, beside Sam, Dean and Lynn. It was dark out, but the place was guarded by two cops. They were going to have a difficult time getting into that house.

They needed to get inside.

Prior to the sudden death of the local high school student the night before, there had been no reason to suspect anything was off about that house. In fact, it had felt pretty foolish to think there was something wrong. Now, someone was dead, and they needed to figure out why.

To be honest, Jayne wasn't really listening to the whispered conversation of the three hunters around her. But she did notice the rustling of leaves coming from down the mud road.

She looked, as did the other three. Harry Spangler and Ed Zeddmore were stumbling towards the house, decked out in their high tech ghost hunter gear, whispering to one another in fevered tones.

"I've got an idea," Dean suddenly announced.

Jayne looked at him. He rose up higher in the bushes, cupped a hand over his mouth to throw his voice, and yelled, "Who you going to call?"

The cops looked up. The two ghost hunters froze in the street, and then, when the cops' flashlights fell on them, turned tail and ran.

"Hey!" one cop hollered as he and his partner chased after Harry and Ed. "Come back here!"

They waited until the cops and the Ghostbusters were out of sight, and then the four of them rushed towards the house, crawled under the yellow crime scene tape, and burst in through the front door.

Jayne, the last one in, shut the door behind them. Dean dropped his bag on the ground and fell to his knees beside it, digging out a shotgun.

They marched towards the basement, stopping only so Dean could shine a light on the strange symbol he swore he recognized, and then they were all trampling down the creaky wooden steps, making more noise than was probably wise. At the bottom, they fanned out in four different directions, shotguns and flashlights at the ready, eyes and ears peeled for any sign of Mordechai.

Jayne was pretty sure she recognized that symbol as well, but she too was having an impossible time placing it. Maybe if she and Dean put their heads together, they could work it out…

Yeah, right. That wasn't going to happen – at least, not right now. Jayne shook her head, shining her light into a corner of the basement, getting irritated all over again. She'd barely spoken a word to Dean since last night, and he had barely spoken a word to her.

And that was pretty damn stupid on both their parts. After all, they had just agreed to be permanent hunting partners. To hunt and travel together for an undetermined amount of time. They were going to be seeing a lot of each other from here on out.

Pretty shitty timing to start giving one another the silent treatment.

"Hey, Sam," she heard him say from the other end of the basement. "I dare you to take a swig of this."

She glanced over her shoulder and saw him holding up a glass jar full of some skanky red stuff.

"What the hell would I do that for?" Sam retorted.

"I double dare you."

Sam shook his head and walked away.

Dean plunked the jar back down on the shelf. He glanced over his shoulder at her.

Jayne looked away.

They heard the rustling, rattling sound at the same time. Jayne whipped around, eyes landing on a large cupboard by the stairs. Dean and Sam were already rushing towards it.

Jayne locked eyes with Lynn from across the basement and then the two of them followed.

Sam stood on the one side of the cabinet, shotgun ready. Dean positioned himself directly in front of it, pointing his pistol and flashlight at the double doors. Lynn took the other side of the cabinet, and Jayne, despite their less than stellar relations, came unthinkingly to Dean's side, gun pointed at the doors.

Sam looked their way, and they both nodded. Then Sam took a small step closer to the cabinet and opened the doors.

Dean let out a startled shout. Jayne jumped. Lynn full out squealed. Even Sam was surprised when the squeaking, agitated rats came rushing out of the cabinet and raced for new cover.

Jayne snorted, unable to contain her laughter. "You all right, Lynn?" she asked.

"Bite me," Lynn retorted, trying to compose herself.

"Yuck," Dean said. "I hate rats."

"You'd rather it were ghosts?" Sam replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes."

Both brothers were staring at the cabinet. Jayne glanced at her sister. Lynn looked back at her.

Immediately, Lynn's eyes went wide and she reached for her shot gun. "Watch it!" she yelled at the other three, aiming behind their heads.

Jayne stumbled to the side, whirling around to get a look at their new enemy. Sam stumbled the opposite way, turning as well, and Dean ducked as Lynn fired the shotgun.

The rock salt hit the man behind Dean, but it barely fazed him.

Jayne watched wide-eyed as the man swung an ax at Dean's head. She fired her shotgun, and so did Sam.

The man was pale as death, wearing a cowboy hat and overalls, his bare wrists pocked with slash scars. He swung the ax again as Dean fired his shotgun.

The salt hit him in four places and finally the spirit dissipated, dissolving into wispy black clouds.

"What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?" Sam thundered.

"I don't know!" Dean replied, glancing all around for the ghost.

"I suggest we get the hell out of here," Lynn spoke up, panic in her voice.

"I'm with you," Dean agreed.

They ran for it. Jayne was on Dean's heels, racing past the shelf where Dean had picked up the old jar. Mordechai appeared behind the shelf, his ax crashing down on top of it, splintering the wood planks and sending the glass jars shattering against the basement floor.

Dean hit the deck, arm around her waist, dragging her to the floor with him.

They landed in a heap on the ground, arms tangled. Mordechai appeared above them, ax above his head and aimed for theirs.

Sam ducked in front of them, locking his shotgun against Mordechai's ax handle. Grunting and groaning with the strain, he forced the spirit back, shotgun struggling against the ax.

"Go!" Sam ordered. "Get out of here!"

Dean staggered back to his feet, grabbing Jayne's arm and hauling her up with him. "Come on, go, go, go!" he shouted, shoving her towards the stairs.

She ran to the steps, Dean behind her, as Sam fought off the spirit. The two of them rushed past Lynn and ran up the stairs.

"Down, Sam!" Lynn hollered, aiming her shotgun at the spirit's head.

Sam ducked as Lynn fired, emptying her gun into the spirit until it finally disintegrated.

Then Sam ran for the steps. "Go, Lynn!" he thundered.

Lynn rushed up the steps behind Dean, who was still pushing Jayne up to the first story. Sam hit the stairs next, running up behind them.

The four hunters rushed out the front door. Dean was still pushing her, much to Jayne's annoyance, and she stumbled into Sam, who tripped and fell through the yellow caution tape strung up outside the door.

Jayne and Sam hit the ground, rolling on impact. They got back to their feet, Dean and Lynn narrowly missing them as they ran, barely managing not to trip as well. The four hunters rushed to the street, passing two small figures standing stock still in the road, staring at the house and the angry spirit in the doorway.

It was Harry Spangler and Ed Zeddmore, clutching their cameras.

"Sweet lord," Ed exclaimed.

"Of the rings," Harry finished.

"Get that damn thing out of my face!" Dean bellowed, rushing on past.

"Go, go, go!" Sam ordered, right behind him.

Jayne was ahead of both of them, Lynn a few paces behind her. They ran for the woods, dodging the cops, leaving the paranormal investigators in their dust behind them.

When they finally reached the main road and the clump of shrubbery where they'd hidden the Impala, all of them stopped, leaning on the car, breathless.

"I don't understand," Lynn exclaimed, still trying to catch her breath. "The ax… the way it came after all of us…"

"Not to mention the immunity to rock salt," Jayne grumbled, bent over the trunk of the car.

"What is it?" Lynn demanded.

Sam shook his head, leaning heavily against the passenger door. "I don't know," he gasped.

"Everyone in the car," Dean ordered, just as breathless. "Now, before the cops find us."

They all piled in, doors slamming. Dean started up the engine and hit the gas, roaring away from the side of the road.

"Whatever that thing was, we've got to figure it out before it kills again," Sam announced.

"Yeah, thank you Miss Marple," Dean retorted.

"We'll hit the books back at the motel," Lynn decided. "Immediately."

"Great," Dean grumbled.

"Awesome," Jayne added.

"Shut up," Sam and Lynn said simultaneously.

The four hunters lapsed into silence as the Impala roared on down the road.

* * *

Lynn leaned against the headboard on Sam's bed, her laptop sitting on her thighs, her eyes trained on the monitor.

Sam sat at the table by the motel room door, fingers flying over the keys of his own laptop. Jayne was sitting cross-legged at the foot of Sam's bed, leafing through some papers, and Dean was sitting on his own bed, back against the headboard, sketching on a pad of motel stationary.

"What the hell is this symbol?" he exploded. "It's bugging the hell out of me!"

Lynn glanced at him, and then looked at her stepsister. Jayne offered nothing, eyes on her papers.

Weird.

"This whole damn job is bothering me," Dean went on. "I thought the legend said that Mordechai only went after chicks."

"It does," Sam replied.

"Yeah, well… I mean, that explains why he went after the rest of you, but why me?"

"Hilarious," Sam snapped. "Legend also says he hung himself, but did you see those slit wrists?"

"Yeah."

"What's up with that? And the ax, too! I mean, ghosts are pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over…"

"But this one keeps changing."

"Exactly."

"Maybe it's not a ghost," Lynn offered.

"Well then what the hell is it, Nancy Drew?" Dean bit out.

Lynn glared at him. "You don't have to bite my head off, ass-hat."

Sam's fingers were clacking on the keyboard again. "I'm telling you," he announced. "The way the story goes…"

He trailed off. "Wait a minute," he murmured.

"What's up?" Jayne asked, looking up from her research and sparing Sam a glance over her shoulder.

"Someone added a new post on the Hellhounds website," Sam replied. "Listen to this: they say that Mordechai Murdoch was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an ax before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity."

"Where'd they get _that_ bullshit story?" Jayne asked.

"As if the first one wasn't just as bad," Lynn murmured.

"I don't get it," Sam said. "Where the hell is this going?"

Dean suddenly sat up straight on his bed, tapping the stationary pad with his pen and wearing a triumphant smirk. "I don't know," he grinned. "But I think I just figured out where it all started."

The other three looked at him. Dean grinned harder, jumping to his feet. He grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

The remaining hunters exchanged looks. "So… are we supposed to follow him?" Lynn asked.

Sam rolled his eyes, shutting his laptop. "I guess so."

They got to their feet and marched out the door.

* * *

The bell jangled over Dean's head as he opened the door to the Richardson record shop. Craig Thurston, wearing an ugly printed button down and a ragged pair of jeans, ducked out from behind the counter as the four hunters entered his shop, headed for the back of the store.

"Hey, Craig," Dean called out, stopping the kid in his tracks. "Remember us?"

Craig turned around slowly, his shoulders slumping. The kid looked like hell. He was pale, rumpled and tired, heavy shadows under his eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "But I'm not really in the mood to answer any more of your guys' questions today."

"Oh, that's all right," Dean reassured him. "We're just here to buy an album."

He had explained the impromptu trip to the other three on the ride to the shop. They all knew why they were here now, but they were still waiting for his move.

Dean thumbed through the record bins on the table by the front window, finally finding the one he'd been looking for.

"You know," he said loudly to his companions, record in hand as he walked towards Craig. "I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then I realized it doesn't mean anything! It's the logo for Blue Oyster Cult."

Craig turned around to find the four hunters at his back.

"Tell me, Craig," Dean smirked. "You into BOC? Or just scaring the hell out of people?"

He pressed the album into the kid's hands. Craig leaned against the record bins behind him, looking even more exhausted than he had when they'd entered the shop.

"Now why don't you tell us about that house?" Dean asked. "Without lying through your ass this time?"

Craig sighed, album dangling from his fingers. "All right," he conceded. "Um… my cousin. Dana. She was on break from TCU. I don't know, I guess we were just bored, looking for something to do… so I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it'd be funny if we made it look like it was haunted.

"So we painted symbols on the walls… some from some albums, some from Dana's theology text books… and then we found out this guy Murdoch used to live there, so we made up some story to go with that. So… they told people, who told other people… and then these two guys put it on their stupid website… Everything just took on a life of its own. I thought it was funny at first, but now… now that girl's dead."

He looked up at the four people in front of him, his eyes scared and confused. "It was just a joke," he insisted. "You know, none of it was real, we made the whole thing up! I swear!"

Craig rubbed his face with his hands, shaking his head.

"All right," Dean said, taking pity on the kid. "All right."

The four of them turned and headed for the door.

"If none of it was real," Dean murmured on their way out. "Then how the hell do you explain Mordechai?"

* * *

Mere hours after the scene in the record store, Lynn found herself sprawled out on her motel bed, leafing through some old texts she'd checked out of the library. Her stepsister was on the other bed, looking through one of the books as well. The subject matter was dry, and no matter how hard Lynn tried to concentrate on the book, her thoughts continued to wonder.

Lynn had to admit – that discussion in the Lone Star Tavern two nights ago definitely could have gone better.

Still, she'd got what she'd wanted in the end; a clear outline of exactly what they were doing, and an acknowledgement that for the present she, Jayne and the Winchesters were a team.

She wasn't sure what Dean's aversion to the whole conversation had been – really, what was the big deal about saying he wanted them to stick around? It didn't have to be anything poetic – all Sam had said was that he thought the four of them sticking together was a good idea in light of the fact that the demon might be coming after them again.

He could have gone on, she supposed. He could have said he wanted her specifically to stick around, that he liked having her around, that he didn't want her to leave because… well, whatever. She hadn't really expected Sam to say anything like that. She was satisfied with what she had gotten out of him.

After all, things with Sam and her were definitely looking up, and there was no reason to screw with that.

However, things between Jayne and Dean seemed to have deteriorated since that night in the bar, and Lynn couldn't help feeling somewhat responsible. How was she supposed to know Dean would have an unreasonable temper tantrum about the whole thing?

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. Right now, she had more important things to be worried about. Like what the hell was haunting the Hell House, and how the hell she was going to kill it.

Research was getting her nowhere, though. Lynn yawned, laying her book on the bed and stretching. Jayne glanced her way.

Lynn stood, making her way toward the door. "I'll be back," she said.

"You going to talk ghosts with Sam?" Jayne asked.

Lynn nodded, pausing at the door. "You want to come?" she asked.

Selfishly, she hoped the answer would be no.

"Yeah, maybe later. I got a few more texts to look through. I'll be over after that."

"Ok."

Relieved, Lynn stepped outside the motel room and walked the three steps to Sam and Dean's door. She was about to knock, but the door swung open before she got the chance and Dean nearly mowed her over in his haste to get out of the room.

"Hey," he grunted. "Sam's asleep, but feel free to wake him up."

There was a sarcastic bite to the words. Dean pushed past her, heading for his car.

"Dean," Lynn said.

He stopped and looked at her. "Yeah?"

"Are you going to be mad at me now?"

"I'm not mad."

She scoffed. "Bull."

Dean sighed harshly. "You know what? I get it, ok? You're into that whole New Age sharing is caring bull crap. And that's fine – for _you_. But I'm not interested in being a part of your little share circle, all right? I'm not mad – everything's fine – leave me the hell alone."

Then he stomped over to his car, swung the door open and climbed behind the wheel. As she watched, he started the ignition and roared out of his parking space, swerving on his way out of the motel lot.

Lynn raised an eyebrow.

"Ok…" she muttered. "Right. You are _so_ not mad."

Then she stepped inside the motel room and gently shut the door.

Sam was stretched out on one of the beds, face buried in his pillow. For a moment, Lynn felt guilty about coming over to wake him up. She wondered if she should leave.

But he stirred as she stood there, eyelids fluttering open.

"Oh, hey," she said quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

He jumped at her voice, sitting up in bed. Blinking, he glanced around the room before his eyes settled on her.

"It's all right," he murmured groggily. "Is everything ok?"

She nodded. "I guess so."

Sam stretched a little, getting to his feet. He was starting to look more awake. "You guess so?" he repeated. "What does that mean?"

Lynn shrugged, giving him a sheepish smile. "I think your brother's mad at me."

Sam laughed slightly. "He's just annoyed about the other night," he assured her. "It's bothering him that you made us talk about things. Dean… well…"

"Doesn't like to talk about things?" Lynn finished.

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Well, too damn bad," she returned. "Because it looks like I'm sticking around, and I talk about things. I talk about things all the time. It doesn't make sense not to."

Sam smiled slightly and nodded.

"He'll just have to get used to it," Lynn said, tilting her chin.

Sam chuckled again. "Well, that'll go over well."

"Hey, did he fight with Jayne?" Lynn asked suddenly.

Sam shrugged. "Would he have told me if he had?"

"Good point," Lynn sighed. "I thought maybe you knew, though. It's been bugging me… they're usually shoving each other and treating one another like crap. Now they aren't talking."

"You think they're fighting because they _aren't _treating each other like crap?"

Lynn shrugged. "It's their thing… or so I've noticed. They express their affection through sarcasm, and their anger through silence. It's hardly healthy, but I'd expect no less from them. So you don't know if they fought?"

"Sorry."

Lynn sighed again. "I feel like it's my fault," she admitted. "Because Dean got so pissed. He made it sound like we weren't wanted."

"He didn't mean it like that. He likes having you guys around, he just… doesn't like having to say it."

"I know, but… well, he and Jayne are sort of friends now, aren't they? I wonder if he hurt her feelings."

"Jayne's feelings can be hurt?"

Lynn smacked Sam in the arm. He grinned. "Shut up," she said.

They fell into a short silence. Lynn quickly changed the subject. "So, you got any leads on this Murdoch business?"

Sam shook his head. "I was looking through those symbols online? One of them… well, it's this Tibetan spirit sigil. Here, look."

He sat down at the table by the window and opened up his laptop. He typed in his password, clicked a few things on the Hellhounds site, and finally a picture popped up.

Lynn leaned over the computer, frowning at it. The symbol was painted on the wall of the house in black. It looked like a running stick figure, with wavy legs and a curved line for hair.

"What does that thing do?" she asked.

"It helps in meditation," Sam explained. "See, there was this incident in Tibet? Twenty monks all thought about a golem. They meditated on it so hard, they actually brought the thing to life. Out of thin air."

Comprehension dawned on Lynn. "Oh," she murmured. "So all the people visiting this site… they look at this picture, they think about Mordechai…"

"They _believe _in Mordechai," Sam added.

"And they brought him to life."

"He's a tulpa. A thought form."

"Well, shit," Lynn grumbled. "How do you kill a thought?"

Sam shrugged. "Still working on that. I'll tell you this much – it isn't going to be easy, not with these guys helping us. Check it out."

He clicked a link in the browser. A new window popped up and a video started playing.

It was the front door to the Hell House. Lynn watched Sam and her stepsister stumble out of the door, ripping the caution tape, saw herself running like the hounds of hell were on her ass, heard Dean thunder, "Get that damn thing out of my face!"

Then Mordechai appeared in the doorway, a shadowy pale faced figure, barely distinguishable in the dark of the house, except for that wicked ax shining in the moonlight.

"Crap," Lynn hissed.

"You're telling me."

They lapsed into silence. Lynn stared at the video frame frozen on the laptop screen.

"So… I'm going to take a shower," Sam suddenly said.

"Oh, ok," Lynn replied, taking a step away from the table. "I'll, um… I'll run this theory by Jayne."

"Sounds good."

They stood in the room awkwardly for a moment. Sam smiled and then practically ran into the bathroom.

Lynn stared at the bathroom door. She heard the water start running.

It was ridiculous, the way things were between her and Sam. Friendly one moment and awkward the next. All because of that stupid night in Nebraska.

And now here they were, all weird about everything and not having sex. It was a shame too, because they'd had good sex that night in Nebraska. And Lynn liked to have sex.

More importantly, she liked _Sam._ And she didn't like poking around, making nice and pretending they were just friends, when she knew she wanted to be more and suspected Sam wouldn't mind it either.

She squared her shoulders with determination and marched towards the bathroom door.

Lynn Juarez always got what she wanted.

She opened the door quietly and stepped inside. Sam's back was to the door and he was peeling off his shirt. She closed the door behind her, leaning up against it, watching as he tossed the shirt to the floor, back muscles rippling, and lowered his jeans.

"Boo," she said.

He jumped, whirling around, tripping over his jeans. She grinned at him as he stood there in his boxers, trying to regain his balance, his arms folded over his chest.

"Lynn," he said. "Uh… um… what are you… what are you… for crying out loud, I'm taking a shower!"

"I know," she said slyly. "But I was thinking… I was going to take a shower too. And, you know what they say… save the whales, shower with a friend…"

"Who says that?"

Lynn took a step towards him, raising an eyebrow. He stumbled backwards, tripping over his jeans again, grabbing the towel bar for support.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Sam," she said, smiling gently. "I've been thinking… this thing between you and me… well, we're just taking things too seriously. Making a big deal out of what should really be very simple."

"I don't… what are you…?"

"I like you, Sam," she went on. "And you like me. And we both like having sex with one another."

"Lynn…"

"We're friends," she said reassuringly. "And we don't have to be anything more than that. But that doesn't mean we can't… take this friendship to a more physical level."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying we're making all this so much harder than it has to be," Lynn returned. She had crossed the room by now and was standing in front of Sam. There was nowhere left for the younger Winchester to retreat. His bare back was touching the shower curtain.

It was rather amusing, actually. She felt like a predator. Like the older woman in one of those slapstick comedy films, preying on the pool boy.

Sam frowned at her. "You just… you just want to have sex?"

"I want us to be friends," Lynn replied. "Like we already are. Only with benefits."

Sam looked like a dying fish. She forced herself not to laugh.

Her fingers traced the skin on his chest, grinning slyly at him as she pressed her chest against his.

Sam swallowed.

She lifted her shirt up over her head and tossed it to the side.

Sam stared.

"Hurry up," she murmured, unhooking her bra in the back. "The water's going to get cold."

She slid her arms through her bra straps, letting the undergarment fall to the floor.

He swallowed again, and she smiled wider, watching the bob of his Adam's apple.

She stepped out of her boots, perching herself on her tiptoes, her hands gently caressing his stubbly cheeks as she pressed her chest into his, lips softly brushing his mouth.

Sam moaned under her mouth, arms wrapping around her, forcing her harder against him, his hands traveling roughly up and down her bare back. Lynn gripped the back of his neck, kissing him harder, tongue parting his lips, hands running through his shaggy hair.

His fingers found her waistband, unfastening her jeans with hard tug, yanking her pants down towards her ankles. She stepped out her jeans, molding her body to his, forcing her lips harder against his.

His hands rubbed against her bare back, her bare thighs. He bent over her, mouth attached to hers. Lynn's fingers slid under the elastic of his boxers. He gasped into her mouth.

With a vicious tug, the boxers were in a pool at his feet. Her underwear fell next. He lifted her off the cold bathroom tile, lips and teeth worrying at her neck, her legs wrapped around his waist. She rubbed his back, her fingers traveling through his hair, fingernails scratching at his skin.

He stepped into the shower. The hot water was a shock against her skin. Sam lifted her higher. Her back hit the cold wall.

He entered her, moaning into her throat, thrusting her against the wall. She gasped into his ear, clutching tighter at his hair.

It was slow and steady at first, and then harder, harder, more desperate as the minutes ticked by and the water began to turn cold. She tightened around him, moaning and gasping, as he groaned and hitched. The water was ice, and neither of them paid any mind.

She cried out, fingers scratching his back. He groaned as she came, thrusting a few final times before joining her.

They stood in the cold shower, catching their breath.

Later, he stood in the bathroom, towel around his waist and water dripping from his hair, hunched over and staring down the drain, his fingers clutching the sides of the sink. She wrapped a towel around her middle, tucking in the end so it would stay, and crossed the tile to his side, her hand softly gripping his bicep.

He wouldn't look at her. She traced his chin with her fingertip, stepping into his side, moving his arm out of her way.

"We're just friends," she told him. "We can be friends. But we're also human. And humans have needs."

His breath was ragged as his eyes bored through the bottom of the sink.

"It's ok," she whispered, cupping her hand over his cheek. "You don't have to be ashamed."

His eyes met her. She stared into the dark blue that sometimes appeared green – but now it was all blue and gray.

Her thumb caressed his cheekbone. "It's ok," she whispered again. "It's not so bad. You aren't wrong."

His arms closed around her waist. He buried his face in her neck. Her hands moved up and down his back, fingers tugging gently on his hair.

His lips came crashing down on hers. He kissed her hard, clutching her against him, fingers digging into her skin.

She rubbed his back.

He kissed her harder, and then softer, and harder again. She felt him relaxing against her, the tension falling out of his shoulders.

It wasn't a cliché at that moment. Lynn truly felt that everything was going to be all right.

* * *

Dean ducked into the motel room. The water was running in the bathroom, steam leaking out from under the closed door.

He gripped a small paper packet to his chest, chuckling under his breath.

"I'm back!" he called out, running over to the change of clothes Sam had left lying on the bed.

Something fell in the bathroom, hitting the floor with a loud _boom!_ Sam cursed quietly. "Dean?" he called.

"Yeah, it's me!"

Dean ripped open the packet in his hands and began sprinkling its contents all over Sam's clothes.

"Uh… what are you… I didn't think… I… uh… um…"

"Jesus, Sammy, what's wrong with you?" Dean asked, chuckling still. "You got a girl in there or something?"

"What? No! Of course not!"

The door to the motel room opened just then as Dean continued sprinkling the powder from the packet over Sam's boxers. He jumped, eyes going guiltily to the door.

Jayne stepped inside, frowning at him. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

"Nothing," Dean said too quickly. "How'd you get in here?"

"You didn't shut the door all the way, genius," Jayne retorted. "Seriously, what the hell are you doing?"

He wasn't sure what to say. She'd definitely think the prank was childish. But if they could have a little secret together… something fun, that was just between the two of them… maybe she'd stop being so pissed at him.

At least, Dean thought she was pissed at him. He was too afraid to find out, so he hadn't been speaking to her. And since she hadn't spoken to him either, he took that as an affirmation of his fears.

He hadn't meant to hurt her back at the Lone Star, when Lynn had been her annoying self and made them all talk about their feelings. He just… well, he wasn't any good at that sharing and caring bullshit, and goddamn it, Jayne ought to know that about him by now.

He glanced over his shoulder at the bathroom door, and then grinned conspiratorially at her. "It's itching powder," he whispered. "I got it at the local toy store. I'm putting it all in Sam's clothes."

He stood there, grinning like an idiot, waiting for her response.

Jayne blinked at him. She folded her arms over her chest. "Are you twelve?"

He snickered. "You're just jealous I thought it of it first."

Jayne rolled her eyes. "You got me."

Dean went back to sprinkling itching powder in Sam's underwear.

"You seen Lynn?" Jayne asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nah."

"She came over here to talk ghosts with Sam," Jayne went on. "They were trying to figure out… oh for crying out loud, Dean, will you stop that?"

He frowned at her, itching powder in one hand, Sam's boxers in the other. "What?"

"I can't talk to you when you're fondling your brother's boxers."

Dean scoffed. "I'm not… I'm just…"

He looked at the boxers in his hand, rolled his eyes, and then tossed them on the bed.

"There," he snapped. "Now talk."

"Lynn came over here to work on the case with Sam and she hasn't been back… and now she isn't even here, so I was just wondering…"

"Did you guys figure anything out?" Dean interrupted. "You know what this thing is?"

Jayne shook her head. "Nope. I got nothing."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Awesome," he grumbled.

The water shut off in the bathroom.

"Are you almost done in there, Sammy?" Dean called. "I got to piss like a racehorse!"

Jayne rolled her eyes. "You're a classy man, Dean Winchester. Don't let anyone tell you different."

"Uh… I…. no?" Sam called from the bathroom.

Dean frowned at his brother's response. "Sam, what the hell is going on in there?"

"Nothing! I'm taking a shower!"

"You sound… weird."

"I'm fine!"

"Hey, have you seen Lynn?" Jayne asked. "She said she was coming over here."

"Who? What? Lynn? No! No, of course not! Why would I have seen Lynn? Ow!"

There was a loud, strange _smack!_ from behind the bathroom door.

"Sam?" Dean asked, starting to get weirded out. "Uh… are you ok?"

"Yeah! Fine! Um… I did see Lynn, actually. Earlier. Then she, uh… she said… she went for a walk!"

"Uh-huh," Dean murmured, frowning. "And uh… you two have any luck with the case?"

"Um… yeah, actually! I think we're dealing with a tulpa."

"A tulpa?"

"Yeah, you know… a Tibetan thought form."

Dean frowned at Jayne, who shrugged. He was glad not to be the only clueless one in this equation.

"What's a Tibetan thought form?' he called.

"Oh, you know… like… just this thing… look, I'll explain later!"

Dean looked at Jayne. Jayne frowned back. "Well, great, Sammy, but I still got to pee!" Dean announced.

"Right, well… I'm busy! Ask Jayne to let you use her bathroom!"

"You're _busy_?" Dean repeated incredulously.

"Lynn?" Jayne called suddenly. "Are you in there?"

Silence from behind the bathroom door.

"Sammy?" Dean asked.

"I… uh… Lynn's not… Jayne, why would you…?"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Jayne exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "If you two are going to have sex, at least be mature enough to admit it!"

"We're not having sex! She's not here! Will you two just go away?"

"Fine," Jayne sighed. "Come on, Dean, you can piss in my bathroom."

He followed her outside and into the motel room next door. "You really think they're… you know?" he asked.

Jayne snorted. "What's the matter, Dean? You can't say sex?"

"Shut up. You think they're doing it? For real?"

Jayne nodded, collapsing on the bed. "Yep. Didn't you need to take a leak?"

"Huh? Oh, uh… yeah…"

Jayne turned on the TV, leaned against the headboard, and started channel surfing.

Dean frowned and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Well," he muttered. "This is just… weird."

* * *

Sam stood outside the tiny tin trailer, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyeing the pink lawn flamingoes.

He had explained his theory to the rest of the group only hours ago: Mordechai Murdoch, once a non-existent entity, was brought to life by the beliefs and meditations of ten thousand web-surfers… with the assistance of the Tibetan spirit sigil painted on the Hell House wall and then posted on the Hellhounds Lair website for all to see. The ghost changed as people's beliefs about it changed. It was immune to rock salt because it wasn't a traditional spirit.

Which had left them all with the very troubling question: how the hell did they kill an idea?

After Sam had managed to scrub away the itching powder from Dean's latest oh-so-hilarious prank, they'd all headed to the library, where Dean had pulled through with an unexpected stroke of genius.

And now they were outside Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler's trailer, waiting for them to answer the door.

"Come on out here, you guys!" Dean called from beside Sam. "We hear you in there."

The door swung open, and Harry and Ed appeared before the four hunters.

"Well, would you look at that?" Dean commented dryly. "Action figures in their original packaging. What a shocker."

"Guys, we need to talk," Sam said, taking over immediately.

"Yeah, well, we're kind of busy right now," Ed retorted, stepping outside, Harry on his heels. He flashed a smirk at Lynn."But _you_ can come back later."

Lynn frowned at him, taking a step backwards. "Uh…."

"We'll make it quick," Dean snapped. "We need you to shut down your site."

Ed chuckled dryly, folding his arms over his chest. He spared a glance at Harry, who stood with his hands on his hips, looking un-amused. "You know," Ed said. "These guys get us busted last night, you know, in a holding cell…"

"I had to pee in that cell, you know," Harry chimed in, wagging a finger in the direction of the four hunters. "And I get stage fright."

"Why should we trust you?" Ed asked.

"Look," Lynn spoke up. Sam glanced at her, surprised at the sudden breathy quality her voice had taken on. She stepped closer to Ed, who swallowed noticeably. "What we all saw in that house last night… it was messed up. And that video… well, it's impressive. Undoubtedly."

A small grin formed on Ed's face despite his attempts to fight it. His arms remained folded over his chest, but he leaned closer to Lynn, chuckling. "You think so, huh?"

"Definitely," she assured him, still speaking in that breathy voice Sam had never heard before. "But… well, as amazing as that evidence was… well, we all saw that nasty looking ax, didn't we?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry murmured, shifting uncomfortably.

"So, you see… that's exactly the kind of stuff that needs to be taken down," Lynn went on, hand on Ed's arm. Sam frowned, trying to understand exactly what had gotten into her.

"Why?' Ed asked.

"It's dangerous," she pressed. "I mean… with that kind of proof out there for the world to see, people are going to want to go into that house. Kids, paranormal enthusiasts… they'll be poking around that place, getting into trouble… someone might get hurt."

"Maybe she has a point, Ed," Harry spoke up.

"No," Ed returned.

"Nope," Harry agreed.

"You see, we have an obligation to our fans," Ed said. "An obligation to the truth."

"Well, I have an obligation to kick both your little asses…" Dean retorted.

Sam cut him off. "Dean. Dean, hey, hey, hey. Forget it. All right? These guys…we could probably bitch slap them both. I could probably even tell them that thing about Mordechai, but… they aren't going to help us."

"You're right," Jayne spoke up. "We should go."

"Fine," Dean grumbled.

Sam turned away from them, walking towards the car. The other three hunters followed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he heard Harry exclaim.

"Wait just a minute," Ed added.

Sam kept walking, and so did the other hunters. Harry and Ed followed, hot on their heels.

"What was that thing about Mordechai?" Harry asked.

Sam glanced over his shoulder. Dean shook his head.

"Don't tell them, Sam," he said.

"But if they agree to shut down their site…"

"They're not going to do it! You said so yourself."

"No, no!" Ed protested. "Don't listen to him! We'll do it! We'll do it!"

The four hunters stopped.

Sam glanced at Dean. "It's a secret, Sam," his brother said.

He looked at the other two. Jayne rolled her eyes and looked away. Lynn took a deep breath and looked Ed in the eye.

"It's kind of a big deal," she told him.

"And it definitely wasn't easy to dig up," Sam added. "So we have to have your word that you'll shut down the site."

"Totally," Ed grinned.

It was so obvious he was lying that Sam barely managed to muster through his next few lines. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper, unfolding it and attempting to smooth out the wrinkles.

"It's a death certificate," Sam explained, handing it over. "From the thirties. We got it at the library. Now according to the coroner, the official cause of death was a self-inflicted gunshot wound."

"That's right," Dean threw in, still looking surly. "He didn't hang or cut himself."

"He shot himself?" Harry asked, eyes wide.

"Yep," Sam nodded. "With a .45 pistol. To this day, they say he's terrified of them."

"Yeah, as a matter of fact," Dean added. "They say if you shoot him with a .45, loaded with these special wrought-iron rounds, you could kill the bastard."

Sam watched both young men in front of him stifle squeals and smother grins. Harry turned tail and ran for the trailer. Ed, still clutching the certificate, tried to walk at a slower pace.

"Harry!" he called after his partner, trying not to be overheard. "Slow your roll, buddy. Don't let them know we're excited."

They watched the two ghost hunters disappear inside the trailer, slamming the door shut.

* * *

It was a tiny diner, filled sparsely with locals, staffed by waitresses in yellow dresses. Jayne eyed her surroundings warily, picking at her dinner, wishing with all her heart that she hadn't chosen to sit between Dean and the wall.

For the ten millionth time, Dean reached around her, knocking the back of her head with his arm, and pulled the string hanging from the ugly wall decoration over her head.

Instantly, the little clay man with the moustache and the huge fish began cackling loudly, like a deranged clown in some sort of funhouse.

Sam instantly grabbed the string and pulled it again, effectively stopping the noise. "If you pull that string again," he threatened, barely glancing up from his laptop. "I'm going to kill you."

He returned to the computer. Jayne glanced at her stepsister, situated at the end of the booth she was sharing with Sam. Lynn rolled her eyes and sipped on her water.

Dean watched Sam carefully across the table. Jayne winced, grabbing the bridge of her nose.

Sure enough, Dean reached around her and yanked that damn string again. The cackling rang out in the diner for a brief second before Jayne reached over and pulled the string, silencing it.

Dean cackled.

"How do you want to do this thing?" Jayne asked Sam. "Ice pick or chainsaw?"

"I was thinking strangulation," Sam returned, eyes still on the laptop monitor. "With my bare hands."

Dean cackled again. Jayne rolled her eyes and took a swig of her beer.

"They post that thing yet?" Dean asked.

Sam rotated the laptop so Dean could see the screen, glaring at his brother as he did so, and then stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork.

"We've learned from reputable sources," Dean read aloud. "That Mordechai Murdoch has a fatal fear of firearms."

He nodded. "All right. How long do we wait?"

"Long enough for the new story to spread and the legend to change," Sam replied, shutting his computer. "I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker."

He lifted his beer bottle and held it out towards Dean. Dean grabbed his own beer and clinked it with Sam's.

"Sweet," he announced, taking a long swig.

Then he tried to put the bottle down, and failed.

Jayne watched, eyebrows raised, as Dean let go of the bottle and gave his hand a good shake. The bottle held fast.

Sam began to laugh.

"You didn't," Dean accused.

"Oh," Sam returned triumphantly, waving a little tube of superglue like a trophy. "I did."

Dean glared at the beer bottle. Sam continued to laugh.

Jayne started to snicker too. Dean glared at her out of the corner of his eye.

Lynn snorted.

Sam yanked the chain on the laughing man on the wall, and the little clay figurine joined in the laughter.

"I hate you guys," Dean announced.

* * *

The plan had been simple.

Dean had filched the laughing man from the diner. The four of them had strung it up in the woods and rigged it to continue going off. This effectively distracted the cops.

Now they were going in.

Sam turned the knob on the front door. Dean knocked the door open and stormed inside the Murdoch house, flashlight in front of him and pistol cocked and ready.

Sam followed him in, armed. Lynn and Jayne, packing as well, marched in after him.

"Man," Dean complained under his breath. "I barely have any skin left on my palm."

Jayne snorted from somewhere to the left.

"I'm not touching that line with a ten foot pole," Sam returned.

The remark earned him a bright light in the eyes.

The four hunters ducked around the house, lights shining in every room, guns ready to shoot anything that moved. Finally, the four of them met up in the kitchen. Finding it empty, they aimed for the basement door, stopping and waiting.

"Think old Mordechai is home?" Dean drawled.

"I don't know," Sam whispered.

"Me either."

All four hunters jumped and swiveled, aiming their guns in the faces of Harry Spangler and Ed Zeddmore.

"Whoa! Whoa!" the two paranormal investigators shouted, putting their hands up.

Sam was instantly irritated at the sight of them. They were already treading on dangerous ground here. Mordechai could be anywhere, could pop out at anytime… and now these two jokers were here, in the house, in the dead of night, just asking to get axed.

"What are you trying to do?" he thundered. "Get yourselves killed?"

"Hey, we're just trying to get a book and movie deal, ok?" Ed returned.

"Not ok," Jayne snapped. "Get the hell out of here, before your limbs start falling off!"

Harry swallowed noticeably.

The distant scraping sound of an ax being sharpened echoed from behind the basement door. Sam whirled, gun going up once again, eyes on the circle of light that Dean's flashlight had pinned on the old wooden door. All four hunters aimed for the basement, waiting for the door to open, as the sharpening sounds stopped and footsteps began to pound on the basement stairs.

"Uh… guys… you want to go open that door for us?" Ed asked, voice warbling.

"Why don't you?" Dean retorted.

The door burst open, swinging into the kitchen wall. The tall, pale faced ghost called Mordechai burst forth from the basement, ax swinging, roaring at the six people standing in his kitchen.

Four .45s fired, gunshots echoing through the house, wrought-iron rounds whizzing through the not-so-corporeal body of Mordechai Murdoch. The ghost began to dissipate into wispy black smoke, the rounds bouncing off the kitchen wall.

When he vanished, the four hunters split off, exchanging wary looks, and searched the house, guns at the ready. The two paranormal investigators stood in the center of the kitchen, scared out of their minds.

"He's… he's gone," Ed gasped.

"Did you get him?" Harry demanded.

"Huh? Yeah… yeah… they got him…"

"No, _on camera_, did you get him on camera?"

"Huh? Oh."

Sam heard a loud clunking sound and a terrified scream. He turned and ran for the kitchen, finding Harry clambering up off the floor, as well as Dean, Jayne, and Lynn rushing into the room.

"Hey!" his brother demanded from the other side of the room. "Didn't you two post that bull shit story we gave you?"

"Of course we did," Ed retorted.

"Yeah, but then our server crashed," Harry added.

Sam sighed heavily, rolling his eyes heavenward. "So it didn't take?" he heard his brother ask, irritation and slight anxiety in his tone. "So these guns don't work?"

"Uh…."

"Great," Dean exploded. "Any ideas?"

Sam shrugged at his brother. Jayne sighed harshly, shaking her head.

"We're getting the hell out of here," Harry announced.

"About damn time," Lynn piped up, her own irritation clear now too.

Harry ran. Ed didn't move. Harry ran back, grabbed Ed, and shoved him towards the exit.

Sam sighed, stepping into the kitchen. "Now what?" Dean demanded.

"You got any ideas, I'd be glad to hear them," Sam retorted.

Terrified screams echoed from the front of the house.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Lynn grumbled.

Sam ran for the source. He exited the kitchen, raced through the front room, and ducked around the corner, into the small narrow passage that led to the back door.

Harry and Ed stood at the far end of the hall, backs to a window, cowering in fear as Mordechai towered over him, ax raised high.

"The power of Christ compels you!" Ed was bellowing. "The power of Christ compels you!"

"Hey!" Sam shouted, rushing into the hall. "Come and get it, you ugly son of a bitch!"

Mordechai turned towards Sam instead, abandoning the would-be paranormal investigators by the window. Sam grabbed the ax handle before the spirit could do any damage, fighting for control over the weapon.

Mordechai smashed the wooden handle into Sam's windpipe, pinning his back to the wall and cutting off his air supply.

"Run!" Sam ordered Harry and Ed. "Get out of here!"

The two investigators didn't need to be told twice. They shoved themselves off the wall and ran for the front door.

Sam struggled against the ax handle, choking and gasping, feeling his head go dizzy and the life leak out of him.

* * *

Dean tore apart the kitchen cabinets as Sam raced from the kitchen, Lynn hot on his heels.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jayne demanded.

"Here!" Dean ordered, thrusting a can of lighter fluid in her direction, saving one for himself. "Spread this around out front!"

"What?" Jayne bellowed, eyeing the can in her hand. "Why? What the hell kind of stupid plan…?"

"Hey, the guy can't leave the house!" Dean pointed out. "So… if there is no house…"

Jayne gawked at him.

"You got any better ideas, Goldilocks?" he thundered.

She glared at him, eyes darting to the lighter fluid. Finally, she rolled her eyes and stamped her foot.

"Damn it," she grumbled, running for the front room.

Dean uncapped his own can, flinging the fluid all around the kitchen. Once he'd trailed the lighter fluid all the way out the kitchen door, he yanked an aerosol canister from under the sink, abandoning the lighter fluid container on the floor, and ran for the front of the house.

This had better work.

* * *

Lynn tore around the corner of the front room, headed for the hall that led to the house's side door.

Sam had his back against the wall, struggling for breath as Mordechai Murdoch strangled him with the handle of his ax.

"Dean!" Sam roared.

Lynn took a step back, raised the .45, and fired.

The rounds wouldn't kill the ghost, of course. But they rattled through the apparition, irritating him enough until he vanished into his usual odd wisps of black smoke.

Sam fell forward, gripping his knees, gasping for breath. She raced to his side and grabbed his arm. "Sam?" she called, concerned.

"I'm ok," he rasped.

"All right," she nodded, giving his arm a tug. "Come on, we've got to go!"

She yanked him towards the front. Sam, still gasping, visibly forced himself to run after her. Lynn held fast to his arm, dragging him across the front room, past her stepsister, and out the front door.

They hit the dilapidated front porch and paused, looking back at the house.

Jayne hollered from inside.

"Oh, crap," Lynn murmured, hand going to her heart.

She ran back for the door.

* * *

Jayne swore under her breath, hurrying around the front room, sprinkling lighter fluid as she went.

This was a stupid plan. They were going to burn down the damn house?

She kept going until the can was empty. Then she flung it to the side and ran for the exit.

The ax sang through the air directly before her nose. She cried out, stumbling backwards and hitting the floor.

She grabbed her gun, firing into the air in front of her, but the ghost had already vanished.

Then the unearthly roar sounded from behind her. Jayne went to her knees, but the ax swung down and knocked the gun from her hands. Mordechai advanced on her, ax high and aimed for her head. She scrambled backwards.

"Hey!"

Dean appeared off to the side. Mordechai looked up at the shout and Dean aimed an aerosol can at the tulpa's face, his lighter flaring up before the nozzle.

Fire erupted out the end, hitting the tulpa in the face. Mordechai roared, vanishing into thin air.

The fire went out. Dean grabbed her arm and yanked her back up on her feet. "Go!" he ordered, shoving her towards the door.

Jayne ran outside and nearly mowed over Lynn, who'd been rushing back inside.

"What the hell, Lynn?" she snapped.

"I heard you scream!" Lynn retorted. "Sorry I love you!"

Jayne blinked. Then she turned, hearing Dean's steps on the porch behind her.

Both Winchesters stood by the door of the Hell House, looking inside.

"Look, if Mordechai can't leave the house and we can't kill him… we improvise!" Dean announced.

Jayne winced. She grabbed Lynn's arm and started hauling her away from the house. "Come on," she ordered. "Time to go."

Dean lit his lighter and dropped it into the lighter fluid.

The front of the Murdoch house went up in flames.

Sam stared at his brother in shock, looking ready to protest.

Dean gave him a push in the right direction, and the two raced after Jayne and Lynn, running back into the brush outside.

"That's your solution?" Sam roared as soon as they hit cover. "Burn the whole damn place to the ground!"

Dean shrugged. "Well… no one will go in anymore."

"No one will go in anymore!" Lynn exploded. Jayne jumped, surprised. "Seriously?"

"I mean, look," Dean snapped. "Mordechai can't haunt a house if there's no house to haunt! It's fast and dirty, but it works."

"What if the legend changes again?" Sam demanded. "And Mordechai is allowed to leave the house?"

Jayne raised an eyebrow, looking expectantly at Dean. It was a well-made point.

Dean shrugged again. "Then we'll just have to come back."

Sam gawked at his brother.

Lynn rolled her eyes, slumping against a tree trunk. "I cannot believe what I am hearing."

Jayne smiled slightly. "Well… I mean… the logic is kind of sound."

Sam and Lynn gawked at her.

Dean frowned, surprised at her comment. Then a small smile crossed his lips.

She grinned back. And, just like that, without either of them really saying anything at all, the two of them and their friendship were all right once again.

* * *

Lynn leaned against the picnic table situated outside the camp store of Richardson, located on the edge of the RV park where Harry Spangler and Ed Zeddmore had parked their trailer.

The case had finally been wrapped up – although she couldn't say she was entirely thrilled about the way things had gone down in the final hour – and now they were all packed and rested and ready to head out.

After, of course, they said goodbye to the Hellhounds.

Lynn didn't fully comprehend why they were waiting outside this camp store for the two paranormal investigators. She had no desire to see them off, didn't want to be leered at by creepy Ed anymore, and she was almost positive that they owed them nothing.

Anyway, it looked as though the two of them were moving. Their car was hitched to their trailer and loaded with boxes.

But Dean and Sam had wanted to see them off. More specifically, Sam had wanted to see them off. And since the four hunters were now a package deal…

It was strange, to say the least. It was what she had wanted, but now that she had gotten it… it felt strange, and that was that.

Sex with Sam, though… that had felt amazing. What felt even better was the fact that things had not gotten awkward between them since that hour or two in the shower. It was… nothing short of miraculous, quite frankly.

She'd love to get inside his head and pick at his thoughts, to know exactly what he was thinking… but she could live with the mystery for a while. She was learning – albeit very slowly – that when it came to Sam, it wasn't always best to push.

The door to the camp store swung open and out stepped Harry and Ed, arms laden with paper grocery bags.

"Well, well, look who it is," Ed announced, grinning that smarmy smirk of his. He winked in Lynn's direction.

She grimaced.

"Hey, guys," Sam offered.

"Should we tell them?" Harry whispered to his pal.

Lynn raised an eyebrow.

"Might as well," Ed returned. "They're just going to read about it in the trades."

"Tell us what?" Lynn asked.

"Like anyone actually cares," Jayne muttered.

Harry ignored her, announcing in a too loud voice, "So this morning we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer."

"Oh yeah?" Dean returned. "Wrong number?"

"No, smartass," Ed retorted. "He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights… maybe even have us write it."

"And create the RPG," Harry added.

"The what?" Dean frowned.

Harry looked slightly less enthused as he explained. "The role-playing game."

"That's a little lingo for you," Ed spoke up. "Any who... uh… excuse us… we're off to La-La land."

"Well, congratulations, guys, that sounds really great," Sam said.

"Yeah… best of luck to you…" Dean added, although it was obvious he didn't mean it.

"Oh, luck, you know, it's got nothing to do with it," Ed drawled. "It's about talent – sheer, unabashed talent."

Harry nodded.

The four hunters stared.

"Later," Ed said, climbing into the driver's seat of his car.

Harry clambered in on the passenger side. Their doors slammed and the engine turned over, protesting all the way.

"See you around," Ed nodded through the open window.

The car pulled away, engine whining and scratching, muffler completely not working. The trailer rocked along behind the car. The four hunters watched as the two investigators pulled out of the lot and headed for the road.

"Wow," Dean shook his head.

The four hunters headed for their own vehicles.

"I've got a confession to make," Sam spoke up.

"What's that?" Dean asked.

Lynn eyed Sam suspiciously, trying not to be obvious.

"I… uh… I was the one that called and told them I was a producer."

Lynn stopped short, jaw dropping. "Sam!" she scolded.

Much to her disconcertment, Jayne burst out laughing.

Dean joined her, glancing over his shoulder at the vanishing trailer. Sam grinned wide as Dean continued to chuckle. Lynn shook her head disapprovingly.

"Yeah, well," Dean said through his snickers. "I'm the one that put the dead fish in their backseat."

Sam guffawed. Jayne snorted, laughing harder.

"Wow," Lynn said, although if she were really being honest, she was trying not to laugh too. "That's great, guys. Really mature."

"That's hilarious," Jayne cackled.

Lynn rolled her eyes, stomping to the passenger side of the truck and waiting impatiently for Jayne to unlock it.

Jayne ambled to the driver's side, stopping by the front bumper and glancing at the brothers. Sam and Dean had come to a stop by their respective doors on the Impala.

"Truce?" Sam asked.

Dean looked up. "Yeah," he grinned. "At least for the next hundred miles."

Sam laughed.

"You guys _better_ stop this prank shit," Jayne said. "Don't make me bump your back bumper."

Dean looked horrified at the thought. "You wouldn't dare!"

Jayne grinned wickedly. "Watch me."

Lynn laughed in spite of herself.

"All right, we've called a truce," Dean announced, pointing at Sam. He then leveled a warning finger in Jayne's direction. "You and me, though? Not so much."

Jayne laughed, climbing into the cab of the truck. Sam laughed too, sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala.

Dean glared, getting behind the wheel.

Lynn shook her head and smiled, stepping into the cab and slamming the door.

Two engines turned over. The Impala rolled towards the exit and the truck followed.

Two weeks so far, and no one had killed anyone else. Lynn watched the taillights of the Impala as the two vehicles rumbled towards the Interstate, wondering just how much longer she'd be staring at the Impala's back end.


	46. Something Wicked

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous Terry, GoLdFiSh Oo, Nelle07, Rose, hornblowerarchiekennedyfan, wizziewoo123, angeleyenc, tiaracove, BlueEyedPisces, Lynx, Penelope Halliwell, supernatural94, Spelllesswonder29, Joan J., Lov3good, xXxKaraBeckerCutterxXx, AshlynPaige92, Strangler000, skm228, MYP, dude where's my shotgun, PushUpDasies, and SayNo2DemonBlood for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 46: Something Wicked

Jayne yawned, leaning her elbow on the cheap Formica table and picking at her eggs. The diner she and Dean were sitting in was crowded that morning, with the waitresses and the cooks screaming at each other, and people chatting loudly over coffee and pancakes.

Dean looked up from across the table, mouth full of hashbrowns, and asked, "Tired?"

She shrugged. "Kind of. Don't talk with your mouth full."

"Sorry, Mom."

"Where we headed next?"

She plopped a forkful of eggs in her mouth, grimacing at the taste and forcing herself to swallow.

Dean shrugged. "I have no idea. That's usually Sam's bag."

"Where _is_ Sam?" Jayne asked, getting surly. "And Lynn too for that matter."

He shrugged again. "Got me by the ass. If I had three guesses though, I'd say knocking boots in your motel room."

Jayne shuddered. "Why _my_ motel room? Why not _yours_?"

Dean smirked.

Jayne sighed, still poking at her eggs. "You want something else?" Dean asked. "Watching you try and eat those eggs is like watching the Godzilla remake: painful."

She glared at him. "I'm fine." She poked at her eggs a little more and sipped some coffee. "I don't understand why they're trying so hard to sneak around," she muttered. "It's not like we don't know the two of them are shacking up."

Dean shrugged. "Aw, let them have their little secret. It's probably spicing things up in the bedroom."

"Do you have to talk about my stepsister, your brother, and spicing it up in the bedroom in the same sentence?"

He grinned at her, popping a whole sausage link in his mouth. "Man, these are the best little sausages _ever_."

Jayne snorted. "That's what she said."

Dean glared at her. He eyed his remaining sausages sadly, and then glared at her again. "Why did you have to ruin this for me?"

She smirked. Then she pushed her plate back from the edge of the table.

"Not hungry?" he asked.

She shrugged. "No."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Oh, ok. Bull shit."

"Leave me alone, Dean."

Suddenly, Dean's phone buzzed – just once, but the sound was still loud and obnoxious. Dean fished the phone out of his jeans and frowned at the display screen, still chewing his breakfast. "Huh."

"What?"

"Unknown number."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But, uh… it's coordinates."

Jayne's jaw dropped. "Coordinates?"

"Yeah."

"As in…?"

"My dad, yeah."

Silence descended over their booth.

Jayne watched him frown at the display screen on his phone. He was chewing the inside of his mouth. Suddenly, he was shoving his phone back into his jacket and tossing a few bills on the table.

"Let's go," he said.

He jumped to his feet and motored towards the door. Jayne got up and followed, mentally cursing John Winchester in her head.

That man was a regular class act. Every time he reared his emotionally and physically distant head – or failed to rear his head, like in Nebraska – Dean closed up like an oyster with a pearl, turning into super-macho hunter man. As if he thought that could hide what every mention of his father did to him.

Dean was already waiting in the cab of her truck when Jayne slid behind the wheel and turned over the engine. Still, she thought as she pulled out the parking lot, it wasn't like Russ Juarez was father of the year. With each new skeleton that tumbled out of the family closet, Jayne's faith and admiration for her stepdad faded just a little bit more.

The incubus. Her mother. Whatever was wrong with Stephen. Whatever happened to Inez Rodriguez. The secrets kept piling up.

Guilt turned her stomach. She wasn't any better than Russ, she thought. Keeping things from Lynn, things about Ana Gibson and Stephen's powers and certain perverted demons…

She shook her head clear. It was all for the best. Lynn had her own shit to deal with right now.

A tiny voice in the back of her head wondered how often those words had flitted through Russ Juarez's mind.

* * *

"You know, maybe we should come clean," Sam said, voice too loud in the quiet emptiness of their small motel room.

Lynn rolled over on her side, sheets around her bare chest, and poked Sam in the center of his ribcage. "Why?" she grinned.

Sam smiled back. "I'm pretty sure Jayne and Dean know what we're doing."

"Oh, I'm sure they do. But why go and make a big deal of telling them? I mean, Sam… it's not like this is some huge development in our lives, right? We're still just friends."

He didn't answer right away. Lynn frowned.

"Right, Sam?"

"Right," he agreed finally. "It's just that… for friends? We've kind of been having a lot of sex."

She stared blankly at him.

"Like… a lot," he repeated.

Lynn shrugged. "Yeah, well… it happens sometimes. We'll hit a dry spell eventually."

Sam laughed. "You say that like it's something for me to look forward to."

"Trust me; _I'm _not looking forward to it. But you _were_ the one complaining here, Sam…"

She grinned slyly. Sam smiled too and looked at the ceiling.

The door swung open.

Lynn squeaked, clutching at the sheets. Sam jumped about a foot in the air.

Dean chuckled from his place in the doorway. "Gotcha."

"Dean!" Sam shouted, annoyed. "What the hell?"

"We got a case, Sammy," Dean returned. "Time to get up, get packed, and get on the road."

"A case?" Sam repeated.

"What kind of a case?" Lynn asked suspiciously.

Dean shrugged. "Dad texted us coordinates."

Sam gawked. "_Dad_?"

Dean shrugged again.

"Well, did he say anything else?"

"Nope. Just the coordinates. It's a place called Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Now up and at 'em! Let's go!"

He turned around, letting the door fall shut behind him. "Hey Goldilocks!" they heard him yelling through the door. "Guess where I found your stepsister!"

Lynn groaned and buried her face in her pillow.

"Well," Sam observed, trying to smile. "I guess that takes care of that."

"Yep," she muttered into the pillow. Then she lifted her head and caught his eye. "So… a case, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam said, bitter. "A case from Dad. No hellos, no goodbyes, no 'don't worry, I'm safe,' just the typical ex-Marine crap. Coordinates."

Lynn sat up and leaned against the headboard, taking Sam's hand under the sheets. "I know every time you hear from John, it messes everything up," she murmured sympathetically.

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, well… at least I know he's alive, right?"

She nodded, trying to smile.

Sam sighed and rolled out of bed, reaching for his pants. "Let's just get this over with."

* * *

Dean drove too fast down the winding Wisconsin highway, green road sign for Fitchburg looming ahead, already visible.

"Well, if this is a hunt, Dean, then why didn't I find anything here?"

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's whining voice beside him. "Because you probably missed something, that's why."

"Dude, I ran Lexus Nexus, local police reports, newspapers… I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?"

"Yeah, I double checked. Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Look, Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important, Sammy."

"Well, I'm telling you, I looked, and all I could find was a big steaming pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something, I don't know what."

"Maybe he's going to meet us there."

"Right," Sam laughed bitterly. "Because he's been so easy to find up to this point."

"You're a real smartass, you know that? Don't worry, I'm sure there's something in Fitchburg worth killing."

"Yeah? What makes you so sure?"

"Because I'm the oldest, which means I'm always right."

"No, it doesn't!"

"Yeah, it totally does."

Sam still looked exasperated. Dean gave him a smirk, and hit the gas. The Impala crossed the city line, into Fitchburg.

The gray Nissan rumbling behind them followed two seconds later.

* * *

Jayne glared at the house in front of her. It was a modest two story with blue shutters, abandoned while its occupants hung around the local hospital.

The four hunters had rolled into town mere hours ago. At first, Fitchburg had seemed normal. Nothing to hunt, nothing to kill. Then Sam had noticed the lack of kids on the playground. Dean had learned that the children of the town were getting sick – seriously sick, as in hospital sick. Not having anything else to go on, Dean and Sam had donned suits and hightailed it to the hospital.

Presumably, the two men were still there, interviewing the man who owned this house. Sam had texted Lynn earlier, telling her about the mysterious illness – first diagnosed as pneumonia, the doctor now believed it was something more dangerous. None of the kids admitted to the hospital were conscious, and their bodies seemed to just be wearing out.

He'd sent Jayne and Lynn to this house to look around while he and Dean interviewed the owner. Jayne had parked her truck at the side of the road and now she was marching towards the front door, her stepsister following close behind.

Lynn kept watch as Jayne knelt at the door, picking the lock. "So, you think we've got something here?" she asked, eyes on the street.

Jayne shrugged, intent on the lock. "Nothing else seemed to be going on around here. Bunch of sick kids is all we've got to go on right now."

The lock gave and Jayne turned the knob. She stepped into the house, Lynn on her heels.

They climbed the stairs, headed for the bedrooms of the family's two little girls. They ducked into the first one.

It was definitely the younger daughter's, Jayne decided upon entry. It was decked out in pink and white, baby dolls and stuffed animals scattered everywhere, ruffles on the bedspread.

Lynn sighed, stopping in the doorway. "Damn," she announced. "I hate cases about kids."

Jayne shrugged, headed for the window. "Yeah," she murmured unaffectedly. "Everyone does."

She heard Lynn's footsteps creaking along the floor as she moved around, checking things out with her EMF detector. Jayne glanced around the room, sniffing the air for suspicious smells, finally coming to a stop at the bedroom window.

She frowned.

The wooden sill on the outside of the window was painted white, and the paint was peeling and cracked. But what was most interesting about the sill was the strange, narrow, crooked handprint with the long, knobby fingers that had literally been rotted into the wood.

She whistled. "Hey, Lynn," she called. "I need your phone."

Lynn came up behind her, standing at her elbow and peering down at the handprint. "Yikes," she said. "What the hell is that?"

"Handprint?"

"Yeah, but from _what_?"

"Don't know," Jayne shrugged, stepping back from the window. "Snap away."

Lynn dug her cell phone out of her jeans and took a few pictures of the handprint on the windowsill.

Minutes later, Jayne found herself behind the wheel of her truck once again, driving away from the curb.

Lynn was examining the picture on her phone. "I've never seen anything like it," she murmured, half in awe.

"We'll figure it out."

Silence.

"Hey," Jayne commented casually. "So… why were you and Sam hiding all the sex?"

Lynn nearly dropped her phone. "What?"

"Well, we already knew, you know. Me and Dean? We knew even before this morning."

Lynn shuffled uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

"I mean… it's not that I need or want to know. I was just… curious. Why all the secrecy?"

Lynn didn't answer for a while. Jayne began to think she wasn't going to, but suddenly she sighed and shrugged.

"Oh, hell, I don't know," she admitted. "It was just… we're not really anything, Sam and I. Just friends."

"With benefits," Jayne cracked.

"Shut up. Yes, friends with benefits. That's it – it's not anything serious. See, that was our whole problem, I think. We were always too serious. What's the point?"

"Amen to that."

"I mean it, though. You remember. It was always Jessica this and Nebraska that. You hurt my feelings, I miss my girlfriend… I mean, what the hell were we thinking? What exactly were we trying to do? What did we think was going to happen?"

"No clue."

"This makes sense. Just friends. Sex for the sake of sex. We really should have figured this out sooner."

"Well, I'm glad you're all ok now."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Jayne…"

"What?"

"Do you think this is stupid? Me and Sam? Having sex?"

Jayne shrugged. "I don't see what's wrong with it."

"Ok. Good."

They didn't speak again for the rest of the ride.

Jayne couldn't put her finger on what was bothering her exactly. She didn't care if Lynn and Sam did it… she didn't care if Lynn didn't tell her about it. She just…

It had to be the road and all the secrets catching up to her. Sometimes, lying awake at night, Jayne wondered why the hell she didn't just tell Lynn everything she knew – about Stephen, about Mom, about the incubus…

All the secrets – they just kept getting in the way. She just couldn't open up. It was… it was damn stupid.

She was becoming Russ. Slowly but surely, Jayne could feel herself morphing into her stepfather.

* * *

Dean was more than a little annoyed.

It was bad enough this case involved kids – innocent kids lying in the hospital, dying from some unknown supernatural illness.

The doctor had thought pneumonia at first – until the kids' bodies simply started wearing out. Now he was stumped. The nurse had mentioned the way the illness spread as a point of fascination; it worked its way through families, one kid after another, but never the adults.

He and Sam had interviewed some of the parents, and it was always the same story – open window. Who opened said window? Not a clue.

They'd stopped to check into a motel, and the boy at the counter was just the icing on the cake. First with the ever-so-amusing assumption that he and his brother were gay… did that gag never get old?

And then when the kid's mom showed up… well, it always got to him somehow. Older brother, taking care of the littler one, even though they were both too young to be taking care of anybody.

Now he was sitting on his bed in his motel room, watching Sam answer the knock on the motel room door. Predictably, Jayne and Lynn were on the other side.

"Hey," Sam greeted them, stepping back so they could enter. "Find anything?"

"Yep," Lynn returned, digging her cell phone out of her jeans. "I have no idea what this is, but it definitely looks like our kind of thing."

She flopped on the bed next to Dean. He promptly rolled his eyes. "One of these days, Lynn," he grunted. "I'm giving you a tutorial on personal space."

Sam arrived at his side, peering at the cell phone Lynn had in her hands. Jayne flopped down on the bed across from them.

Lynn sorted through various pictures… a weird road sign, a stray cat, her sneakers…

"Is this what you do when you get bored?" Dean griped.

His question earned him a smack in the arm. "Would you be patient?" she snapped.

He rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath.

"There!" she announced triumphantly, thrusting the cell phone in Sam and Dean's direction. "What do you make of that?"

Dean didn't have many heart-stopping moments. He wasn't scared of much because he'd seen too much, pretty girls were nice to look at but not enough to induce a slow motion sequence set to a porno soundtrack, and it was damn difficult to be shaken emotionally when, as a rule, you repressed pretty much everything.

But that picture threw him.

A handprint, burned into the windowsill. It was long and crooked and gnarled. And he'd seen it once before.

"That wood's been rotted away," Sam breathed.

"Yep," Jayne spoke up. "So, uh… what the hell leaves a handprint like that?"

Dean knew exactly what left a handprint like that.

He could see it now, in his mind's eye, sixteen years ago. A black and white photo lying on the kitchen table in the latest cheap motel room.

"I've seen this before," he announced.

Sam frowned at him.

"You have?"

"I know why Dad sent us here," he went on, half to himself. "He's faced this thing before."

He looked up from the cell phone in Lynn's hand. All eyes were on him.

"He wants us to finish the job."

* * *

Only a couple hours had passed, but it was getting dark. Rain pattered outside the window. Sam was sitting on his bed and hunched over his laptop. Lynn sat at the counter in the tiny half kitchen on a high stool, her own laptop set up on the surface in front of her. Jayne had stretched out on the other bed in the room, a notebook in her lap.

Dean stood across the counter from Lynn, poring over a few open texts. Sam raised his brow at his brother.

"So… this _shtriga_," Sam began skeptically. "You said it's a…"

"Witch," Dean cut him off. "Or kind of a witch. I don't know."

"Well, I've never heard of it."

"That makes two of us," Lynn spoke up.

"It's also not in Dad's journal," Sam pressed.

Dean shrugged. "I told you, Sam. Sixteen, seventeen years ago, Dad hunted this thing in Fort Douglass, Wisconsin. You seriously don't remember?"

"No."

"Whatever."

Sam hunched over the laptop again, frustrated. "So, if Dad hunted this thing, why is it still breathing?"

Dean shrugged again. "It got away."

"It got away?"

"Yeah. It happens."

"Not very often."

"Well I don't know what to tell you, Sam. Maybe Dad didn't have his Wheaties that morning."

"Huh," Jayne spoke up.

"What?" Lynn asked. "Find something?"

Sam turned curious eyes on Jayne. She sat up slightly off the bed she was sprawled on, eyes on the yellow Steno pad in her hands. "Shtriga," she said. "Of Albanian lore. A vampiric witch who feeds on the blood of infants."

"Seriously?" Lynn intoned. "You found that in Dad's notebooks?"

"Otherwise known as a shtrigoi," Jayne read on, ignoring her stepsister's sidebar. "From Romanian mythology. Similar to most eastern European legends about the vampire and the walking dead. Frequently blamed as the cause of deaths during epidemics."

"Told you," Dean said.

"So, what then?" Sam asked. "We're dealing with some combo of the two?"

Jayne shrugged. "Different groups of people have different legends about the same things. You know that as well as I. The trick is figuring out which legends help us kill this sucker."

Sam began typing keywords in his search bar.

"Anything else in there?" Lynn asked her sister.

"Uh… shtriga and shtrigoi are supposedly the evil souls of dead witches… a shtriga will feed on her victims and then transform into a flying insect – right, that's just rich. Ooh, that doesn't look good."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Albanian folklore says only the shtriga herself can cure those that she drained… usually by spitting in their mouths. Those she didn't cure eventually sickened and…"

Jayne trailed off.

"And what?" Dean demanded.

She winced a little. "Uh… they died."

Silence followed this statement. Sam tried to ignore the heavy tension in the room, focused on yielding his own search results and – hopefully – more positive answers.

After nearly twenty minutes, he was rewarded.

"Found it," Sam spoke up. "Wasn't easy, but I found it."

"Yeah?" Jayne asked dryly, unimpressed. "Tell me how I'm doing so far, Velma."

"Your stepdad's got it down pretty accurately, according to this site," Sam replied. "Vampiric witch, blamed for epidemics… and it also says that the shtriga feeds on spiritus vitae."

"Spirtu-what?" Dean returned.

"Spiritus vitae," Sam repeated. "Life force. A person's vitality."

Dean nodded. "Didn't the doctor say the kids' bodies were wearing out?"

"It's a thought," Sam agreed. "You know, she takes your life force – your vitality – and then your immunity goes to hell and pneumonia takes hold… anyway, shtrigas can feed off anyone, but they prefer…"

"Children," Dean finished.

"Right," Sam frowned. "Probably because they have a stronger life force. And get this. It also says that the shtriga is immortal to all weapons devised by God or man."

"Does it?" Jayne retorted. "Because my stepdad seemed to think it could be killed while feasting on the life force of its prey."

"Russ was right," Dean spoke up. "She's vulnerable while she feeds; you catch her then, you can blast her with consecrated wrought-irons… uh, buck shots or rounds, I think."

Sam stared at his brother incredulously. "How do you know that?"

Dean shrugged – again. "Dad told me. I remember."

Sam gawked at Dean. Dean didn't seem to notice.

There was something off about this hunt. Sam knew it, just the way he knew that Dean wasn't telling him the whole truth. "Right," he said, his tone tinged with sarcasm. "So, uh… anything else Dad might have mentioned?"

Dean shook his head, sarcasm undetected. "No. That's it."

Sam stared a while longer.

"What?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "Nothing."

He shut the laptop and got to his feet, headed for the coffee in the kitchen. "Anyway… assuming she _can_ be killed while she eats, we've still got to find the thing… and that ain't going to be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they're not hunting."

"Oh, I've got the answer to that," Jayne said, pointing at a passage on the Steno pad. "To find a shtriga? All we got to do is find a cross made out of bone and plant it at the entrance to a church on Easter Sunday. Any shtrigas lurking around in there will be trapped and easy to kill."

The other three stared at her.

"What?" she asked. "You think I'm making this stuff up?"

Sam sighed and shook his head. He wasn't in the mood for jokes.

Neither was Lynn, apparently. "Thank you, Jayne," she said slowly, her impatience showing in her voice. "That was really very helpful."

Jayne shrugged. "Russ also says the shtriga can disguise itself as anything… but usually chooses a feeble old woman."

Sam raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. That tidbit of information might actually help.

Dean brightened beside him. "Hang on," he exclaimed, rushing for his bag and grabbing a sheet of paper.

"What?" Sam asked.

"Check this out," his brother demanded, spreading the sheet out on the countertop.

Sam moved away from the coffee machine, empty mug still in his hand. Lynn moved her laptop off to the side of the counter, leaning in towards the paper. Even Jayne tossed the notebook in her lap and heaved herself off the bed, ambling to Dean's side.

Dean pointed at the paper in front of him. Sam saw immediately that it was a map of the area. "I marked down all the addresses of the victims," his brother explained. "These are the houses that have been hit so far. And dead center…?"

"The hospital," Sam murmured.

"The hospital," Dean agreed. "When we were there, I saw a patient. An old woman."

Sam stared at his brother. Dean didn't look up, so he glanced at Lynn.

She raised her eyebrow at him, looking as skeptical as he felt.

"An old person, huh?" Sam asked his brother. "In the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"Whew. Better call the Coast Guard."

Lynn giggled.

Jayne snorted.

Dean glared at them all. "Listen, smartass, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall."

Sam's smirk vanished.

Dean raised his eyebrows at him, waiting for a response.

Jayne snorted again. "Well," she said. "Aren't we embarrassed."

Dean glared at her again.

"All right then," Lynn murmured. "Guess that means we're going to the hospital."

* * *

Lynn had only two possessions that she gave a damn about; her computer, and her Glock.

That gun was her best friend. Her most dependable back up. It was never far from her person. She almost always carried it on her.

One of the few places she didn't bring that gun was into hospitals.

So it felt more than a little weird to be slouched against the whitewashed wall of the local hospital, sidled up alongside Sam Winchester, waiting for Dean to announce the coast was clear, all the while with her gun tucked into the back of her jeans.

The four of them headed up the hall for the ward in which Dean had seen the questionable old lady with the inverted cross on her wall.

Dean ducked his head around the corner of the hall, and then ducked it right back, motioning at the rest of them to stop and play it cool. From around the corner, she heard a nurse say, "Good night Dr. Heideker."

"See you tomorrow, Betty."

"Try and get some sleep."

The doctor in question walked past their hall. Eyes averted and vision blocked by the giant Winchester brothers, Lynn failed to get a good look at him. She caught a vague impression of dark hair and a gray suit, and that was all.

When he had walked on, Dean checked the corner again, and then motioned the rest of them to follow.

"Was that the doctor you talked to earlier?" she asked Sam, tone hushed.

He nodded. "Yep."

There seemed to be nothing more to say on the subject, so they fell silent and kept walking.

It didn't take long to reach the correct ward, and finally they stopped outside a white door, shut up tight, labeled 237.

Dean pulled his gun preemptively, earning him a disapproving look from Sam. He simply shrugged and then gestured at the door.

Lynn rolled her eyes in Jayne's direction, who gave her a small smirk.

Sam slowly, quietly pushed the door open. Dean ducked inside, gun out and ready. Lynn followed him in, ducking around the door and the pulling her Glock from her waistband. Jayne was next, drawing her pistol as she crossed the threshold.

In the sliver of light from the hallway, Lynn caught sight of their target. She was an old woman, with long, wild, frizzy white hair, sitting in a wheelchair in the center of the room. Then Sam shut the door behind him before drawing his own weapon, casting the room into darkness, and the woman into shadow.

Dean snuck forward, edging to the side of the elderly woman. The other three followed quietly, watching Dean's advancement.

He reached the woman's side, glanced back at the other three, and, gun raised, leaned towards the woman's face.

"Who's there?"

The cry startled everyone. Lynn stumbled back a step, yelping, her grip tightening on her gun. Sam started, and Jayne jumped half a foot in the air.

Dean cried out, alarmed, and tumbled backwards into the wall, hand running over his face.

"You trying to steal my stuff?" the old woman hollered. "They're always stealing around here."

Sam flicked the light switch, fighting a grin threatening to form on his face. "Uh, no ma'am," he said quickly. "We're maintenance? We thought you were sleeping."

"Nonsense," the woman replied. "I was sleeping with my peepers open."

Sam glanced at her incredulously. Lynn bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

The old woman herself started cackling.

Dean straightened up, slowly recovering. "Fix that crucifix, would you?" the old woman asked. "I've asked four damn times already."

Lynn glanced at her stepsister. Jayne raised her eyebrows at her, shaking her head. Dean obliged the old woman, giving the crucifix a gentle spin, turning it right side up.

They mumbled apologies to the old woman, wished her a goodnight, and hightailed it out of that hospital as fast as their legs would carry them.

Soon they were all piled into the Impala, headed back for the hospital. The sun was rising by now, brightening the street in front of them.

Sam couldn't stop laughing.

"Shut up, Sam," Dean growled as they neared the motel.

"I was sleeping with my peepers open?"

Lynn couldn't help it. She started giggling too.

"Knock it off back there!" Dean barked.

She couldn't stop. She kept giggling. Sam kept laughing. And then their laughter set off Jayne's.

Dean made eye contact with Jayne in the rearview mirror. "Backstabber."

They pulled into the motel parking lot after the sun was already in the sky, still laughing despite Dean's grumpy expression.

"Are you done yet?" he snapped, parking the car and shutting down the engine.

Sam swung open the passenger door and stepped out of the car. "You should have seen your face, Dean!"

The rest of them climbed out of the car too. "I almost smoked that old broad, I swear," Dean grumbled. "It's not funny."

Sam laughed harder.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Now we're back to square one."

The doors slammed shut on the Impala and Lynn began to follow Jayne towards their motel room. Sam was headed for the room he shared with his brother when Dean spoke, stopping the three of them in their tracks.

"Hang on."

Lynn glanced in his direction. He was staring at the main building, where the office was located. One of the little boys belonging to the woman who ran the motel was seated outside on a bench, staring at his sneakers. The boy was obviously upset.

Dean started for the boy. Sam followed. Lynn made to go behind them, but stopped when she noticed Jayne backing towards their motel room.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked.

Jayne shuffled on her feet. "Oh, uh… nah."

"Nah?"

"Well, you know. Kids. I'm not so… you know, great with kids. And when it comes to _sad_ kids…. well… that's just way beyond my capabilities."

Lynn stared at her sister for a moment. "Jayne," she said finally. "Get your butt over there, or I'm going to push you."

Jayne sighed harshly, rolling her eyes. "Fine," she grumbled, marching towards the bench.

Lynn rolled her eyes too, and followed.

* * *

Dean came to a stop by the bench before the motel office, hearing the footsteps of the other three hunters pounding behind him.

Michael, the boy he'd watched taking care of his younger brother, was sitting on the bench, looking depressed.

"Hey," he said, kneeling at eye level. "What's wrong?"

Michael sniffed. "My brother's sick."

"The little guy?"

The kid nodded. "Pneumonia."

Pneumonia. The word was a kick to the gut.

"It's my fault he got sick," Michael went on.

Dean blinked. "What are you talking about? How?"

"I should have made sure the window was latched. He wouldn't have got pneumonia if the window was latched."

Dean glanced over his shoulder. Sam and Lynn were behind him, almost identical frowns creasing their brows. Under different circumstances, he might have laughed.

Jayne looked the way he felt, but that didn't change the fact that she had her arms folded over her chest and appeared distinctly uncomfortable.

He looked back at Michael. "Listen to me," he said. "I can promise you that this is not your fault. Ok?"

Which was one hundred percent true. It could not possibly be Michael's fault that some nasty shtriga – or shtrigoi or whatever – climbed its way inside his bedroom and sucked the life force of his little brother.

If it was anyone's fault at all, Dean could safely say that it was his own.

Michael, however, wasn't buying it. "It's my job to look after him," he insisted.

That's when the office door swung open, and Michael's pretty brunette mother stepped out into the parking lot, arms laden with a pillow, a teddy bear, and a blanket. "Michael," she said, opening the door to her SUV. "I want you to turn on the No Vacancy sign while I'm gone. I've got Denise covering room service, so I don't want you to bother with any of the rooms, ok?"

"I'm coming with you," Michael announced, getting off the bench.

"Not now, Michael."

"But I've got to see Asher!"

"Hey, Michael," Dean intervened. "Hey, I know how you feel. I'm a big brother too. But you got to go easy on your mom right now, ok?"

His mother's purse clattered to the pavement. "Damn it!" she cursed.

Sam swooped in, lifting the purse from the ground and handing it to the flustered woman. "I got it. Here."

"Thanks."

"Listen, you're in no condition to drive," Dean offered. "Why don't you let me give you a lift to the hospital?"

"No… I couldn't possibly…"

"It's no trouble. I insist."

She still looked hesitant, but nodded. "Thanks."

Dean took the car keys from her hand and shut the passenger door behind her. Sam, Jayne, and Lynn were huddled by the SUV, watching him. He stopped, leaning in so only they could hear.

"We're going to kill this thing," he growled. "I want it dead, you hear me?"

Then he marched off to the driver's side of the vehicle, got in, and tried not to burn rubber as he pulled out of the parking space.

* * *

They'd been at the library for hours

Jayne had weeded through countless newspapers, records from all over the country, websites…

This whole case bothered her.

It was the kids, obviously. No one liked to watch kids get sick. No wanted a kid to die.

And then, of course, there was Dean.

She hated watching him like this. Dean was only Dean when he was grinning, cracking jokes, singing along to the radio… eating like a toddler.

Now he was upset. Something about this case was eating at him, and it went deeper than just the kids. He was hiding something. She knew him far too well by now to miss when he was hiding something.

Part of it had to do with Sam. The whole Michael and Asher thing… it was classic Dean and Sam. Dean the overprotective big brother, Sam the little brother he was supposed to watch out for. It had struck a chord with Dean.

She got it. She really did. That's why they got along so well, her and Dean. They both got things like that.

But that wasn't the whole story, she was positive. Something else was going on here.

Lyn yawned and stretched on Jayne's left. "What did you find about Fort Douglass?" she asked Sam quietly.

Jayne looked expectantly in Sam's direction.

Sam sighed. "Well, it's just like Dean said. It was about fifteen years ago, and it was the same deal we've got here. How about you? What about Fort Augendale?"

"Same," Lynn sighed. "Epidemic, worked its way through several kids… they all languished into comas and died."

"North Haverbrook, same deal," Jayne grunted.

"Looks that way in Brockway too," Sam murmured. "So… every fifteen years, this thing strikes in a small town like Fitchburg… and from the looks of things, it's just getting started here."

Lynn nodded. "We've got what, seven kids in the hospital right now? There were dozens in Augendale."

"Same in Fort Douglass and Brockway," Sam agreed. "This is going to go on for months before the shtriga moves on."

Jayne sighed and cracked her neck. "Great," she muttered. "So… how are we going to find this thing?"

Sam sighed too. "I have no idea."

"How far back does this thing go?"Lynn asked.

"I don't know," Sam said. "Earliest mention I could find was some place called Black River Falls. It got hit in the 1890s."

He moved to the computer on the desk, typing a few things in and clicking on some links. Suddenly, his frown deepened. "Whoa."

"What?" Lynn demanded.

"You aren't going to believe this."

"Try us," Jayne retorted.

"I'm looking at a picture from Black River Falls? A bunch of doctors standing around a kid's bed. One of them looks exactly – and I do mean _exactly_ – like Heideker."

Jayne exchanged a look with Lynn. "You mean the pediatrician at the hospital?"

Sam nodded.

Lynn swallowed and asked in a tiny voice, "And this picture was taken when?"

Sam looked her in the eye. "1893."

Lynn blinked. She nodded, and then lowered her eyes to the table. "Right then."

Silence descended over the three of them. Finally, Jayne shrugged, rubbed the back of her neck, and then raised her eyebrow at the other two.

"Guess this means we found our shtriga."


	47. Ding Dong the Witch is Dead

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to angeleyenc, hulahula551, Terry, GoLdFiSh Oo, wizziewoo123, hornblowerarchiekennedyfan, tiaracove, Raine, SayNo2DemonBlood, Penelope Halliwell, AshlynPaige92, supernatural94, Three Moons, xXxKaraBeckerCutterxXx, anonymous, Lynx, BlueEyedPisces, Carver Edlund, DesElements, Spelllesswonder29, Joan J., Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, MYP and Lov3good for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 47: Ding Dong the Witch is Dead

Jayne ambled down the fluorescently lit hall of the pediatric ward, headed straight for the line of chairs across from one of the many hospital rooms. Dean sat leaning back in one of those chairs, his arm perched on its neighbor and his legs sprawled out in front of him. His eyes were boring holes into the room on the other side of the hall.

She stopped short beside him and kicked the sole of his boot. He started slightly and glanced up at her. A slight frown creased his brow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

She waved her keys at him. "I'm your ride, Miss Daisy."

He smirked, so small it was barely noticeable. Jayne plopped down in the chair beside him, eyes going to the large window across the hall. The motel owner was sitting at her son's bedside, conferring with the doctor.

Dr. Heideker. Jayne's jaw tightened.

"How's Asher?" she asked.

"Bad," Dean returned.

Silence.

"How was the library?" he asked.

She sighed. "Uh… productive."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. "Um… we started with Fort Douglass, when your father was there. And then we tracked this thing through several different towns, all in the state of Wisconsin. About every fifteen years, this thing finds itself a new town and works its way through it for…. well, several months."

Dean cursed under his breath.

"We're talking dozens of kids," she murmured. "This thing is… it's just getting started."

"Damn it."

"Earliest record of this thing we could find was in Black River Falls, in the 1890s," Jayne went on. "And Sam found a picture. Bunch of doctors standing around a sick kid's bed."

"And?"

"And one of those doctors was… was Heideker."

Dean's shoulders tensed. His jaw clicked. "Heideker?"

"Yep."

"And this photo… it's from…?"

"1893."

Dean exhaled sharply, glaring through the window at the pediatrician. "That bastard."

Jayne's eyes widened as Dean got to his feet and started for the hospital room. "Whoa," she said, scrambling out of her chair. "Dean, where the hell are you going?"

He was already at the door to the room. She reached him just as Heideker stepped through the doorway and into the hall. "So what's the CDC come up with?"

Dean leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. Jayne froze, watching him.

"Well, we're still working on a few theories," Dean replied, forcing a small smile. "You'll know something as soon as we do."

"Well, nothing's more important to me than these kids," Heideker said, and Jayne found her fists clenching into tight little balls. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

Dean nodded. "I'll do that."

Heideker disappeared down the hall. Jayne smacked Dean in the arm.

"What?" he asked.

"What the hell was that all about?"

"Relax," he brushed her off. "I wasn't going to do anything."

"Oh, really?" she retorted. "Is that why you rushed off towards the good doctor at a full speed charge?"

"Let's just get out of here," he replied, starting off down the hall.

Jayne followed after him. "Dean," she said. "I know this case… it's getting to all of us."

"Mm-hmm."

"You're really on edge."

He snorted. "Yeah, and you never are?"

"You know what I'm getting at. What's going on here, Dean? Why is this case getting you so… so… edgy?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

He never wanted to talk about anything.

It was infuriating. But at the same time, it would be hypocritical to push. Because Jayne knew damn well that she was equally as frustrating. She never wanted to talk about anything either.

Still, when she watched him like this… she felt this very strange and alien need to reach out. To talk to him.

But she wasn't Lynn, and she wasn't Sam, and she doubted she ever would be like them. So she let it drop. She fell into silence. They walked to the parking lot without another word. And when they got in the truck, Jayne turned up the volume on the radio.

Still, it hurt a little. There had been this conversation back in Michigan, outside the Miller house, in the wake of that poor kid's death, where she had told him maybe a little too much about herself and her problems. And the fact that he wouldn't tell her about his own problems…

Maybe it was her own fault. Because she wasn't willing to push. After all, back in Michigan, even Dean had pushed a little.

Someday, she promised herself. Someday she was going to push.

* * *

"I can't believe we didn't think of this sooner!" Sam exclaimed, leaning against the counter in the motel room kitchenette. "A doctor is the perfect disguise! You're trusted; you can control the whole thing."

He sounded pissed as all hell, and Dean couldn't blame him. He was even angrier. Off came the jacket, thrust at the bed beside him. He started pacing. "That son of a bitch."

Jayne was leaning against the far wall, her arms folded, shaking her head with her tongue in her cheek. "Thing had some nerve," she said, growling low in her throat. "Way he talked about the kids. Saying there was nothing more important…"

"I'm surprised you didn't draw on it right there," Sam grumbled.

"So am I," Lynn murmured from the stool by the counter. She sounded a lot less angry than Sam and a lot more relieved – presumably because neither Dean nor Jayne had shot at the pediatrician.

"Yeah, well," Dean groused. "First of all, I'm not going to open fire in a freaking pediatrics ward."

Sam nodded. "Good call."

"Second, it wouldn't have done any good, because the bastard's bulletproof unless it's chowing down on something. And third? I wasn't packing, which is probably a really good thing, because I probably would have burnt a clip in him off of principle alone."

Lynn raised an eyebrow. "And what was your excuse?" she asked her stepsister.

"All of the above," Jayne drawled.

Sam shook his head. "Getting wise in your old age."

"Damn right," Dean replied. "Because now I know how we're going to get it."

He wasn't surprised when three heads turned, surprise and confusion flicking across their faces. "What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"This shtriga works its way through siblings, right?"

"Right."

"Well, last night?"

"It went after Asher."

"So I'm thinking tonight it's probably going to come after Michael."

Sam's eyes widened. "Well, then we got to get him out of here!"

"No, no! That'll blow the whole deal!"

"What?" Sam exploded.

Dean heard Jayne sigh behind him, mumbling something that sounded a lot like "Shit."

"You want to use the kid as bait?"

Dean nodded, maybe just a tad too eagerly.

"Are you nuts?" Sam burst out.

"That's a terrible idea!" Lynn exclaimed.

"Why?"

"Why?" Sam repeated incredulously. "He's a _kid_, Dean! Forget it; it's out of the question!"

"It's not out of the question! It's the only way!"

"Whoa, Dean, come on," Jayne spoke up. "Look, the plan's logical, I'll give you that. But Michael's what? Eleven? There's got to be a better way. No way we're tossing that kid into the line of fire."

"Definitely no way," Lynn added with a bite to her voice. "If this thing…"

"If this thing disappears," Dean interrupted, voice rising. "It could be years before we get another chance! I cannot let that happen!"

"I don't care!" Sam bellowed. "He's a _kid_! And I am not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook!"

"Dad did not send me here to walk away!" Dean snarled.

"Send _you_ here?" Sam retorted. "Dad didn't send you here; he sent _us_ here."

"This isn't about you, Sam!" he thundered, wheeling around and marching towards the other side of the room. "All right, I'm the one who screwed up! It's _my_ fault! There's no telling how many kids might have gotten hurt because of me!"

The words came tumbling out before he could stop them. He winced. It was too much – so much more than he'd meant to say.

Silence.

"Um…" he heard Lynn say. "Well… that was kind of a curveball."

He whirled back around to glare at her.

"What do you mean, Dean?" Sam asked quietly. "_How_ was it your fault?"

Dean looked at the wall. He didn't say a word.

Sam sighed. "Dean. You've been hiding something from the get-go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does Dad let something get away?"

Dean sat on the bed, mouth shut.

"Talk to me, man. Tell me what's going on."

Dean did not want to have this conversation.

He did not want to relive Fort Douglass, Wisconsin. He did not want to discuss what happened in the past; what it meant for the present. He just plain did not want to talk about it. He wanted to shut up and work the job.

But Sam wasn't going to let him do that. And from the looks on Jayne and Lynn's faces, Dean doubted he was going to get any support from either one of them.

"Fort Douglass, Wisconsin," he finally said, eyes on the carpet. "It was… it was the third night in this… this crap room, and I was climbing the walls, man, I needed to get some air."

They were all quiet as he spoke, and suddenly, it was like Dean was there, back in Fort Douglass, a stupid ten year old kid all over again.

His fingers had been twitching, his foot tapping impatiently. It was hell sitting in a suite the size of a closet, and he'd had enough TV. He'd switched it off, gave Sammy one last look over his shoulder – Sammy, at six, fast asleep in the next room – and then headed out.

He'd taken precautions. Locked the door up, deadbolt included; shut all the windows.

He'd walked down the road a piece to the arcade. Played some mind-rotting, alien shooting game until the owner had told him they were closing.

Then he'd gone back to the motel. Walked in through the door. Known immediately something was up.

The door to Sammy's room was shut, almost all the way. The light was on. And more importantly, there was an eerie whispering coming from behind the door.

He'd grabbed the rifle from where it leaned against the wall. Moved slowly towards the room. Pushed open the door.

It was an ugly sucker in a long tattered black robe, hunched threateningly over Dean's baby brother. He'd pointed the gun at it and taken a deep breath… the monster looked up and hissed.

Then the motel room door had burst open.

"Get out of the way!" his father had thundered, rushing inside.

Dean had ducked. His father had fired several rounds into the monster. The shtriga turned and ran superhumanly fast, smashing its way out through the bedroom window.

Then his dad had rushed for the bed, shaking Sammy awake, hugging him close when the kid woke up, groggy and confused.

"What happened?" he'd demanded.

Dean had faltered. "I just went out."

His father had gone cold. "What?"

"Just for a second. I'm sorry."

"I told you not to leave this room! I told you not to let him out of your sight!"

There had been nothing to say to that. He hadn't replied. The look his dad had given him… it was a memory he didn't like having.

And then he was back in the present, in Fitchburg. Sam had moved to sit beside him on the bed. "Dad just grabbed us and booked," Dean finished the story. "Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away. By the time he got back to Fort Douglass, the shtriga had disappeared. It was just gone."

Dean swallowed. Sam was staring at him with those earnest puppy eyes of his, and Dean refused to make eye contact.

"Never resurfaced until now," he went on. "Dad never spoke about it again. I didn't ask. But he, uh… he looked at me different. You know? Which was worse. Not that I blame him. I mean, he gave me an order and I didn't listen. Almost got you killed."

"You were just a kid," Sam said softly.

"Don't," Dean barked. "Don't. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it."

Sam, Jayne and Lynn were all staring at him now. Dean didn't like it. He tried not to make eye contact with any of them.

"But… using Michael?" Sam spoke. "I don't know, Dean. I mean… how about one of us hides under the covers? You know, we'll be the bait?"

Dean shook his head. "No, that won't work. It's got to get close enough to feed; it'll see us."

He got to his feet, walking away from Sam. "Believe me, I don't like it, but it's got to be the kid."

Sam didn't reply.

"I think Dean's right, Sam," Lynn murmured from her stool.

Dean frowned at her, surprised.

Lynn met his eyes and gave him a small smile. Dean immediately looked away.

"I can't see another option here," Lynn went on. "I mean… the shtriga can't be killed unless she's feeding, and… well, I hate this plan, honestly. I just… well, now that I really think about it, I can't see another out."

Sam sighed. "Right. I'm starting to see that. Jayne?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you think?"

Dean heard her sigh. He refused to even look in her direction.

"If it's got to be the kid, it's got to be the kid," was all she said.

And so it was decided. Michael would be bait.

* * *

"You're crazy! Just… go away or I'm calling the cops!"

Sam wasn't the least bit surprised at Michael's reaction.

Marching into the motel's main office, ringing the bell until Michael poked his head out, and then simply telling him, flat out, that not only were monsters real, but one of them was responsible for his baby brother's condition… it was hardly a genius plan.

"Hang on," Dean said, leaning on the circulation desk. "Just listen to me. You have to believe me. Ok? This thing came through the window and it attacked your brother. I've seen it. I know what it looks like. Because once it attacked my brother too."

It wasn't the way you talk to a kid. It sounded like Dean was conversing with an adult. And maybe that was the way people should talk to kids, because it worked. Michael slowly lowered the receiver and hesitantly hung up the phone.

"This… this thing," Michael said, reluctant. "Does it… like… have this long black robe?"

"You saw it last night, didn't you?" Dean asked.

"I thought I was having a nightmare."

Dean's eyes fell to the countertop and then he looked back up at the kid. "I'd give anything not to tell you this… but sometimes? Nightmares are real."

"Then why _are_ you telling me?"

"Because we need your help."

"_My_ help?"

"We can kill it," Dean explained. He nodded towards Sam. "Me and him, and those two women you saw us with earlier. It's what we do. But we can't do it without you."

Sam watched the kid's eyes go from confused to scared in mere seconds. "What?" Michael asked, shaking his head. "No!"

"Michael, listen to me," Dean said, leaning closer. "This thing hurt Asher. And it's going to keep hurting kids unless we stop it, do you understand me?"

Michael stared at them. They stared back.

And about five minutes later, Sam found himself back outside his motel room door, Dean beside him, and no Michael.

"Well, that went crappy," Dean grumbled, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

"What did you expect?" Sam returned, following him in. "You can't even ask an adult to do something like that, much less a kid."

He shut the door behind him as Dean shrugged out of his jacket. Lynn and Jayne were sitting in the room, waiting for them.

At their entry, both women had looked up from the guns they'd been cleaning, clearly listening to the tail end of their conversation. "Let me guess," Lynn sighed. "He said no."

Sam crinkled his nose. "That's about right."

"Well, of course he did," Jayne muttered. "You ask an eleven year old kid if he'd mind holding still while a monster sucks his life force so you can shoot at it, he better say no. Otherwise, kid's not stable."

"Maybe," Dean practically growled, pacing. "But now we don't have a way to kill this son of a bitch."

Sam sighed, sitting on an unoccupied bed. "We'll think of something."

There was a knock at the door.

The four of them started. Sam exchanged a look with Dean, who stopped his pacing and went to the door.

When he opened it, Michael was standing on the other side.

"If you kill it," he asked. "Will Asher get better?"

Sam stared at his brother's back. Dean glanced back at him, at Jayne, at Lynn. He returned his eyes to the kid.

"Honestly?" Dean leveled. "We don't know."

Michael swallowed. "You said you're a big brother," he said.

"Yeah."

"You take care of your little brother? Do anything for him?"

Sam frowned. Dean didn't hesitate.

"Yeah," he said. "I would."

Michael nodded.

"Me too," he replied. "I'll help."

* * *

After Michael gave his agreement, the four hunters wasted no time getting ready for the shtriga.

They set up cameras in Michael's room, connecting them to Sam's laptop. Then they'd moved all their stuff into the room next door.

Dean had given Michael a tutorial on what to do – hide under the bed, don't come out until one of them said to, cover his ears. Then they'd left him to get ready for bed, and the four of them had tried to get some sleep.

Dean had insisted on not leaving the room next door, and Jayne knew that meant he wasn't going to take his quick nap and rest up before the kill. Sam and Lynn had disappeared, and if they weren't so responsible, Jayne would bet they were off bumping uglies – _again._ Still, they had a long night ahead of them, and she was… sixty percent positive that they really were going to sleep.

She wasn't tired.

Dean and Michael's little exchange… yeah, she got that.

She wasn't a big _brother_ per say. But she _was_ a big sister, and that amounted to the same thing.

She had walked into the room next to Michael's and found Dean laying flat on his back on one of the beds, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

"Boo," she offered.

He didn't even look at her. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" he asked.

"Aren't you?" she returned.

He didn't reply.

Jayne stood awkwardly in the room, toe of her boot picking at the carpet. Finally, she sighed, crossed the room, and sat at the foot of his bed. Facing the wall, profile to him, legs stretched out in front of her. Heels in the carpet, ankles crossed, hands gripping the side of the mattress.

"What do you want?" he asked her.

She shrugged. "Just making sure you're… not… troubled."

He snorted.

Silence.

"I was sixteen," she said suddenly.

He frowned at her. "What?"

"I was sixteen," she repeated, eyes on her boots. "I was at the Hannigans' place, like usual. Lynn was at some bullshit dance… Homecoming, I think. She was one of _those _people."

Dean snorted, so small she barely heard it.

"Rufus and Russ were in the next town, tracking a werewolf," Jayne went on. "It was the last night of the cycle. And… and he warned me, before he left. Russ did. He told me not to leave the house because the wolf might catch his scent… his and Rufus's… and then it would follow the trail back to the pub. Stephen and Deedee, they were only twelve, so…"

She stopped. She swallowed. Dean stared. She kept looking at her shoes.

"So… they'd been gone a few hours… and I knew, you know, that I should stay in the house. But… but I didn't. I went out, to the barn… so I could make out with my goddamn boyfriend."

"Boyfriend?"

"Yeah."

"Who was your boyfriend?"

He was teasing her. She smiled slightly, still not looking at him.

"Danny Hannigan."

"Ew. Seriously?"

She fought the smile back as it tried to grow. "Anyway… Russ was right. The thing, it… it caught his scent and followed the trail back to the house. Thing busted in… went for Deedee… and Stephen, well… even at twelve, he was a hunter, you know? He took it on, nothing but a knife… and… and it caught him across the cheek, sliced him up good… sent him flying into the television and kept on coming…"

She stopped again. Swallowed again. Blinked.

"By then we'd gotten back to the house, and Danny… he was eighteen at the time… he pulled his gun and shot at the thing, shot it right out of the house… didn't get it though, didn't kill it… but chased it off. Russ and Rufus showed up seconds later. Came in, saw the damage, heard the thing howling outside…"

She took a deep breath.

"He looked at me. Shouted, you know. 'What the hell happened here?' And I told him… you know, that I'd gone out to the barn… and he just…"

She half choked. She could remember it like it was yesterday. The way Russ's eyes had narrowed, going dark and dangerous… and more importantly, disappointed. And Stephen… the blood dripping down from his cheek, the way he cradled his arm…

"He told me I should have known better. And goddamn it, he was right. I was _sixteen_. Sixteen! I was old enough to know… I did know. I knew better. I should have stayed in the house, protected him…"

"You were a horny teenager. It happens."

"Don't you dare," she snapped.

He fell silent.

"When you said… that John looked at you different… well, I know that look. Russ, he gave me that look. I… it's what I remember the most, next to all the blood. The look."

Silence.

"You were a kid, Dean. Like ten years old. Kids make mistakes. They're kids; it's what they do. Adults don't give kids that much responsibility for a reason. But me? Sixteen, Dean. I was practically grown up. I should have known better."

More silence.

"They didn't catch it right away, either," she murmured. "The hunt, the gunfire… it changed its territory. Moved into the next county. It took Russ and Rufus months before they finally tracked it down. When I think of all the people who died… if I had stayed in the house…"

"It wouldn't have mattered."

"It might have."

Silence. It dragged on for eons. Jayne lifted her head, eyes finally leaving her boots, and trained her stare on the ceiling instead.

"You know when bad shit happens?" Dean asked suddenly. "And you… you tell someone about it?"

She nodded, eyes still on the ceiling.

"And they always tell you… they say they understand?"

She didn't answer right away. He was quiet too. When she did speak, her voice was tiny.

"But they never do."

Her words were met once again with the longest silence ever. Jayne's eyes never left the ceiling.

"_You_ actually understand," he said suddenly.

She started. Then she looked at him.

He met her eyes dead on.

She nodded, slowly. "Yeah," she whispered. "You too."

More silence. Dean tore his eyes from hers, looking back up at the ceiling.

"We're in trouble, aren't we?" he said.

She looked away too, training her eyes back on her boots.

"So much trouble," she agreed.

* * *

Lynn was wired.

It had been Dean's suggestion to get an hour or two of sleep before the big showdown, and she had agreed with him. But she honestly didn't think she could fall asleep.

It had been a long day; chock full of head pounding research, mind-blowing revelations and way too much coffee. Her pulse was buzzing.

She suspected Sam was wired too, because he didn't retreat to the motel room he shared with Dean. He followed her into her room.

Jayne wasn't there, and Lynn doubted she was going to show up. She hadn't looked particularly tired either, and Lynn knew she was concerned about Dean. It didn't take a genius to figure out where Jayne was.

Sam shut the door gently and leaned against the wall, shoulders hunched awkwardly and hands shoved in his pockets. Lynn exhaled heavily, blowing air into her bangs, and turned to face him.

"Something on your mind?" she asked.

Sam shrugged. "No, I… it's nothing."

"Really? Because, uh… it doesn't look that way to me."

He sighed. "I'm way too buzzed to catch some sleep."

Lynn smiled. "Yeah, I know how you feel."

He pushed himself off the wall and took a seat at the counter. Lynn perched herself at the edge of her bed.

"I don't remember any of that," he said suddenly.

Lynn tilted her head to the side.

"Dean's story," Sam clarified. "What he said about the shtriga… I don't remember that."

She stared for a moment.

"Well," she said finally. "You were what, six? No one expects you to remember."

He nodded.

Silence.

"You were eight," he spoke. "Back when it must have happened… you'd have been eight."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Is this the part where you freak out over the age difference? Because it's not like you're sleeping with somebody's grandma, Sam. I'm only two years older than you."

"No, no, it's not that, I just… I don't know. It was such a long time ago, you know? And yet Dean remembers. He remembers everything so perfectly. He even remembers how to kill this thing. I mean… it's like the whole incident is ingrained in his memory. It's like… I mean… does this… does this thing haunt him? Keep him awake at night?"

Lynn stared. She shrugged, shaking her head slowly. "Sam, I… I wouldn't know."

"I know. I just meant… I don't know."

She smiled ruefully. "No, no. I get it. Kind of. I mean, the things you learn about people you thought you knew, right?"

Sam nodded. Sort of smiled.

Lynn took a deep breath. "You know… I just recently found out that my mom didn't die in childbirth like my dad told me she did."

He blinked. Stared. Frowned.

She shrugged and forced a smile. "So, yeah."

"What happened to her?"

Lynn sighed. "Well, that's the sixty-four dollar question. We don't know. The death certificate just says it was accidental. Rufus claims she was practicing hoodoo… might have gotten in over her head. I… I don't really know anything at all, or even where to start looking. It's… it's kind of driving me insane."

He just stared at her for a moment. "Jayne…" he said finally. "Did she…?"

"She says she had no idea," Lynn answered the unspoken question. "At first, I didn't believe her, but… now I think she honestly didn't know."

Sam nodded. They were quiet for a little while.

"I'm sorry," she half-laughed. "I'm not really sure why I told you that."

"Because you had to tell someone," he replied. "And Jayne…"

He trailed off. "Doesn't really talk about things?" Lynn supplied.

Sam laughed. "Um… yeah. Exactly."

Lynn nodded, laughing a little too. "True enough."

"You know we'll help, right?" Sam asked. "Dean and I… we'll help you figure this out, if you want us to."

"I know," she replied. "I do, I just… I don't know. Maybe I'm a little scared."

"Scared?"

"Yeah, I mean… if she really was messing around with dark stuff, if she did go a little crazy… well, crazy's hereditary."

He laughed. "You? Go dark side? Crazy, maybe, but…"

"Hey!"

He smiled wider. "You couldn't go dark side if you tried," he told her.

She smiled back. "Yeah. That's what Jayne said."

"She's right."

Lynn nodded.

They lapsed into silence.

"I do want to know," she said suddenly. "I do, and I'm going to find out. I just… well, I know how hypocritical I must seem right now. I have that whole 'the truth is always better' philosophy going on. And I do believe that, and I am going to find out the truth about my mom, I am, but… but I'm scared. I really am. And I just can't help that."

More silence. Lynn looked at the floor. Sam looked up at her, and offered her a smile.

"Tell you what," he said. "As soon as this hunt is over, why don't we do some research about her? All four of us. Together."

"I don't know…"

"Well, think about it. Ok?"

She forced a smile for him.

"Ok."

* * *

It was edging towards three in the morning when something happened.

They were sitting in the room next to Michael's, eyes glued to the monitor of Sam's laptop. He was next to his brother Dean, watching carefully for any sign at all of the shtriga entering Michael's window.

Jayne and Lynn were seated on the next bed over, waiting their turn – or Sam's signal.

No one had really spoken the entire time they'd been in there. Sam glanced over his shoulder at Jayne and Lynn, making sure they weren't listening, and then spoke.

"You sure these iron rounds are going to work?" he asked Dean.

"Consecrated iron rounds," Dean corrected him. "And yeah, it's what Dad used last time."

Sam nodded.

They fell silent.

"Hey Dean, I'm sorry," Sam spoke suddenly.

Dean gave him a weird look. "For what?"

Sam shrugged, sighing. "You know… I've really given you a lot of crap for always following Dad's orders. But I know why you do it."

Dean rolled his eyes, returning his gaze to the laptop screen. "Oh, god, kill me now."

Sam laughed, and then looked to the monitor as well, still holding the microphone speaker against his ear.

"Wait," Dean murmured. "Look."

Sam heard tapping against the window for a brief second before he put the speaker down. Frowning at the screen, he too saw what had given Dean cause for alarm.

It started out looking like a tree branch scraping against the window. But slowly, the tree branch morphed into a long, gnarled hand, and the hand opened the window.

The glass pane slid back and the shadow appeared.

"It's coming in."

Lynn had appeared at his shoulder, breathing the words at his ear. Sam nodded.

"Now," he ordered.

"Not yet!" Dean barked.

Sam sat, anxious, clutching his gun. Dean had his gun out too, holding it tight, staring at the monitor.

He saw the Glock in Lynn's hands, saw her rocking on her heels, raring to go.

"That thing's getting way too close," Jayne spoke up, worry and impatience coming through in her tone.

Dean shook his head, silently telling them all to wait.

They watched the black-robed monster cross the boy's bedroom, hands outstretched, leaning forward towards the bed…

"Go!" Dean ordered.

And then Dean was running for the exit. He was out the door by the time Sam got to his feet. He raced out after his brother, Jayne and Lynn on his heels.

* * *

Dean kicked open Michael's door.

"Michael, down!" he ordered.

The shtriga looked up at the door, hissing.

Jayne, Lynn and Sam appeared beside Dean, guns at the ready.

Michael hit the deck, rolling under the bed.

All four hunters opened fire.

Bullets riddled the shtriga's body. It shook with each impact, stumbling backwards, finally falling back and hitting the floor with a loud, long wheeze.

When the smoke cleared and Dean's ears stopped ringing and the shtriga finally quit moving, Dean slowly, hesitantly, lowered his gun.

Sam lowered his as well, and so did Lynn. Jayne caught his eye; her hand falling slowly as she reluctantly lowered the pistol. Dean looked at each of them in turn, all of them exchanging looks, unsure how to proceed, if the witch was indeed dead…

"Mike, you all right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," the kid replied.

"Just sit tight," he ordered.

He picked his way over to the shtriga's side. Sam moved with him, staying by the foot of the bed. Jayne stepped that way too, and Lynn moved towards Michael's nightstand.

Dean frowned down at the body. It lay still on the floor, robe torn and burned, and bullet holes all through the carcass. Its face, half hidden in the hood of the black robe, was twisted and pallid. Dean watched, carefully. The shtriga didn't move a muscle.

He glanced back at the other three, shrugging. Sam made an uncertain face.

He heard the shtriga get up before he saw it. Head whirling at the rustle of black robes, Dean saw the face of the monster come up inches before his, its long knobby fingers grabbing him by the front of his jacket and heaving him into the bookshelf on the other end of the room.

It hurt. He groaned, trying to force himself to move. Lynn fired, and the shtriga leapt at her, knocking the gun out of her hand and tossing her towards the closet.

Jayne hit it twice in the back; Sam hit it once in the front. The shtriga took them both down. First, Jayne, when it knocked the gun away and threw her into the window. She shattered a pane of glass and tumbled to the floor. Then it came for Sam, disarming him and tossing him down, on the bed, grabbing him by the chin.

Dean snatched up his pistol and aimed for the shtriga's head. The creature forced open Sam's mouth, leaning over him. A blue light began to glow between its open mouth and Sam's. Sam was frozen.

"Hey!" Dean bellowed.

The shtriga looked up.

_Bang!_ The bullet burned its way through the shtriga's forehead. The monster hissed, wheezed, and flew backwards, back hitting the ground.

This time, it didn't get back up.

"You all right, little brother?" he asked.

Sam nodded, breathing heavily, giving him two thumbs up.

Dean groaned and grunted, dragging himself out of the wreckage of the bookshelf. Sam, still panting, rolled off the bed and stood up straight.

Jayne hauled herself off the ground, groaning a little, shaking glass off her flannel. Lynn grabbed the bar in the closet, pulling herself to her feet, and stumbled out of the wardrobe.

Dean aimed and fired, twice more, directly into the shtriga's head.

It wheezed. Little blobs of white light began to escape the shtriga's mouth.

"It's all right, Michael," Dean said. "You can come on out."

The boy climbed out from under the bed. His mouth was open, his eyes wide. Michael moved forward, staring at the monster in shock.

Sam clapped the kid's shoulder comfortingly. Michael gave Dean a still stunned smile, and Dean grinned back.

The monster was slowly disintegrating before them, fading away as the little lights escaped, leaving nothing behind but its long black robe, still smoking from the gunfire.

He'd finished it.

* * *

Lynn groaned, hefting her heavy duffel into the back of the truck, still sore from the night before. The fight with the shtriga and the toss into the closet had bruised her up bad, but that wasn't the worst of it. Once the monster had been deemed dead, she, Jayne, Sam and Dean had spent the rest of the night rebuilding a bookshelf, repairing a window, and fixing a closet door. Not exactly conducive to healing up.

Jayne was marching towards the truck now too, a sour look on her face. Lynn frowned at her, watching as her sister threw her bag into the bed with a little too much force. "What's up?" she asked.

Jayne shrugged. "Nothing," she grumbled.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Oh, that was convincing."

Her stepsister sighed. "I'm tired, sore, and cranky. Don't pull the share and care crap on me right now."

"You just seem so upset…"

Jayne glared. Lynn clammed up. "Sorry."

Jayne sighed again. "No, it's fine," she relented. "I just… you think those kids are all right?"

Lynn faltered. She scrutinized her stepsister, who frowned back. Then Lynn sighed and shrugged.

"I hope so."

Jayne frowned across the parking lot. "Hey, motel woman is back," she said, sounding hopeful.

Lynn glanced over her shoulder and saw Michael's mom climbing down from her SUV. She shot Jayne a disapproving glare. "Her name is Joanna."

Jayne shrugged and started crossing the lot, headed for the Impala, where Joanna was approaching the Winchester boys. She heeded Lynn's reprimand no mind.

Lynn followed.

They reached the Impala in time to see Michael rush out of the motel, grinning wide, and throw his arms around his mother.

"How's Ash?" he asked.

Lynn nodded hello at Sam, and he gave her a smile. She leaned on the back bumper of the Impala, listening in. Her stepsister went around the passenger side of the car, forearms on the roof, looking lurky.

Lynn rolled her eyes.

"Good news," Joanna smiled, and Lynn felt instant relief. "You're brother's going to be all right."

"Really?"

Michael's mom nodded. "Yeah. Really. No one can explain it. It's uh… a miracle."

Lynn smiled.

"They're going to keep him in overnight for observation," Joanna went on, addressing the hunters now. "But after that he's coming home."

"That's great," Dean said.

"How are all the other kids doing?" Sam asked.

"Great," Joanna replied. "Real great. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr. Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town."

"Dr. Travis?" Sam repeated. "What happened to Dr. Heideker?"

Joanna shrugged. "Oh, he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Must have."

Joanna turned back to Michael. "So did anything happen while I was gone?"

"No," Michael replied. "Same old stuff."

"Ok. You want to go see Ash?"

"Now?"

"Only if you want to."

Michael turned bright eyes on Dean, who nodded at him. Then the kid turned tail and ran, leaping into the passenger seat of the SUV.

Joanna laughed. "I better go before he hotwires the car and drives himself."

She turned and walked off, headed for the SUV.

Lynn grinned. "Well," she said. "That's good news."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I'll say."

"It's great news," Jayne said shortly. "You guys ready?"

"Yep," Dean said.

"Where we headed?" Lynn asked.

Dean shrugged. "Sam?"

"Uh… breakfast?"

Dean cackled. "Took the words right out of my mouth, Sammy."

Sam grinned.

"We'll be right behind you," Lynn promised. Sam and Dean nodded at her, and then she followed Jayne back across the parking lot.

* * *

Dean watched the stepsisters cross the lot, headed for their truck, as he closed the trunk of the Impala.

"It's too bad," Sam said suddenly, headed for the passenger side door.

"Nah, Ash'll be fine," Dean replied, moving to the driver's side.

"That's not what I meant."

Dean frowned at his brother. Sam leaned on the roof of the car.

"I meant Michael," he explained. "He'll always know there are things out there in the dark. He'll never be the same, you know?"

Dean didn't really know what to say. He looked away as Sam began shaking his head. "Sometimes I wish…"

Sam trailed off. He laughed a little, like he'd decided his words were going to sound stupid.

"What?" Dean demanded.

Sam shook his head again. Shrugged. Met Dean's eyes.

"I wish I could have that kind of innocence."

Dean stared at him. Nodded. Looked back over his shoulder at the SUV that was currently driving away.

He turned back to Sam, examining his car keys. Then he looked Sam in the eyes.

"If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too."

Sam stared. Dean looked away and climbed in the car. He started her up, turned up the radio. After a moment, Sam slid into the passenger seat.

They didn't talk, or even look at one another. Dean shifted out of park, pulled out of his parking space, and then gunned it for the exit.

* * *

Lynn climbed into Janis's cab, where Jayne was already seated and waiting for her, engine running.

They waited, watching the Impala until the boys got in it and started her up. Lynn watched Joanna and Michael's SUV pull out of the parking lot. "I guess this case ended well, huh?" she commented.

Jayne shrugged. "Yeah."

They watched the Impala wheel out of the parking space by the front office. Jayne shifted gears and followed it out of the lot and down the road.

"It's going to be strange for that kid now," Jayne observed suddenly.

Lynn glanced her way. "Who, Michael?"

Jayne nodded. "Yeah, just… knowing stuff like what he knows now. I mean… not many kids are going to be on the same page, you know?"

Lynn nodded. "Yeah, I get that. Still, he's got it better than Asher."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… unless Michael tells him, that kid's never really going to know what's out there. He'll be living in the dark."

Jayne glanced at her. An ornery smile was playing on her lips. "Some might say that's a blessing," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, and those people would be wrong."

They were quiet for a moment. Jayne's smirk vanished and she began chewing on the inside of her cheek. "You might be right," she said suddenly. "But still… you have to admit… Michael? He's only eleven, Lynn. And now he's got to spend the rest of his childhood listening for bumps in the night, checking around every corner… just waiting for the next nightmare to turn out real. He'll never be able to write off a strange sound or a weird shadow ever again."

It was a fair point. Lynn nodded, getting serious too. "I know. But Asher won't even know that sometimes nightmares _can_ come true, Jayne. At least the next time one of those nightmares turns out real, Michael will be prepared. Asher… well, the next time won't be any different than this time, will it? The next nightmare he stumbles across… he won't even see it coming."

The cab fell silent.

"Doesn't really matter," Jayne observed. "They'll both be miserable eventually. That's just life. Give it time."

Lynn snorted. "Wow, Jayne. Way to be the glass half empty."

Jayne shrugged. "You know it's true."

"I don't know that."

"Sure you do."

They were silent again.

"Michael will spend the rest of his life scared," Jayne said quietly. "And Asher will too, let's face it. After what Michael saw last night, he'll be breathing down that kid's neck and scaring him shitless for the next twenty years."

Lynn laughed a little.

They lapsed back into silence, following the Impala towards the Interstate.


	48. Feelings

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to Lov3good, wizziewoo123, hulahula551, AshlynPaige92, hornblowerarchiekennedyfan, Three Moons, Lynx, Carver Edlund, BlueEyedPisces, GoLdFiSh Oo, Raine, nwinchester, supernatural94, SayNo2DemonBlood, xXxKaraBeckerCutterxXx, MYP, Joan J. and Little Rock-n-Roll Queen for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 48: Feelings

The sun was streaming in through the crack in the motel curtains. Jayne blinked against the offending brightness, rolling over and pulling the sheets up around her neck.

Her stepsister, surprisingly, was seated on the bed beside hers, fully dressed, bed made up, and balancing her laptop on her knees.

"Lynn?" she asked groggily.

Lynn flashed a too bright smile in Jayne's direction. "Morning!"

Jayne stared, brow furrowed incredulously. "What the hell?"

"What?"

"Since when are you a morning person?"

Lynn rolled her eyes. "I'm not. I got up early against my natural instincts."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Research."

Jayne sat up, softening. "Your mom?"

Lynn nodded.

Jayne shoved back the covers, swinging her legs over the side of her bed. "You and Sam have been at it pretty heavy since Fitchburg."

"I am not discussing my sex life with you."

"Gross!" Jayne exclaimed. "I'm not discussing it either! I meant with the research, gutter-brain."

Lynn delivered a wicked grin, to which Jayne responded by rolling her eyes. "Well, after I came clean about the whole death certificate hoodoo thing, he offered to help. So…"

Jayne nodded. "You guys turning up anything?"

Her stepsister sighed, shaking her head. "Besides nothing? Nope, not so much."

Jayne climbed out of bed, heading for her duffel. "You know," she murmured hesitantly. "I've been thinking. About your mom… maybe we ought to head to Brooklyn?"

Lynn looked up from her laptop. "Brooklyn?"

"Yeah. I mean… that's where she was from. Where she lived. Where she… died. It makes sense to go back there, you know? To the beginning?"

"Maybe…" Lynn murmured, chewing her lip. "I don't know, Jayne. Would we even know where to start once we got there?"

"Well… we don't have to, if you don't want to…"

"I don't know," Lynn said again. "Maybe."

She bowed her head over the laptop again. Jayne watched her for a moment, and then sighed, digging fresh clothes out of her duffel bag.

Her cell phone rang.

Frowning, Jayne snatched it up, eyeing the display screen.

Danny.

Jayne flipped open the phone. "What the hell do you want?"

Danny Hannigan laughed loudly in her ear. "I miss you too, Gibson, I miss you too."

She smirked, trying not to laugh with him. "So what's your deal, Danny?" she asked wryly. "Motorcycle wreck… ghost you can't handle… get yourself kidnapped by witches or demons or…?"

"Shut your face, Gibson," he retorted, not sounding remotely upset by her digs. "I am one hundred percent fine, and kicking demonic ass everywhere I go, thank you very much."

"I'll bet."

"Where are you?"

"Like I'm telling you."

"Aw, come on baby, don't be like that."

"I'm going to _be_ handing you your own ass on a plate, Hannigan."

"Will you just tell me where you are, you freaking lunatic!"

"Northern Illinois. Why?"

"You got to come meet me out in West Virginia. Pronto."

"What?"

"It's a town called Mineral Wells, just inside the border. Come meet me."

"Why? What's the case?"

"Well… it's hard to explain… I'm not really sure what I'm facing… I'll give you the details when you get here…"

"Look, Danny," Jayne said, getting serious. "It's not just me and Lynn anymore. I teamed up with another pair of hunters, and if I have any hope of convincing them to drive all the way out to freaking West Virginia, I'm going to need something better to go on than 'I'll give you the details when you get there'."

"All right, all right, Gibson. Don't go getting all stern on me, you know I hate that. Look, I can't really explain the case because I'm not really sure how. It's weird. But that ain't all. I'm calling you for another reason besides."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"I've seen your brother."

Jayne froze, staring at the wall over the two queen sized beds.

Silence.

"Gibson? Still there?"

"You… you… saw…"

"He's here. I saw him in this bar, next door to my motel. Bartender said he comes in there a lot – or has been for the past week. Don't worry; he didn't see me."

"You sure about that?"

"Puh-lease, Gibson. I'm smooth like Exlax. Boy never knew I was there."

"Smooth like Exlax? Danny, I've never met someone less smooth in my whole life."

"Bite me. You want to find Steve or not?"

Jayne sighed.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I do."

"Then get your ass down here."

She sighed again. "Ok. We'll be there."

"Cool. Oh, and Gibson?"

"Yeah?"

"Who the hell are these other hunters you're riding with?"

She laughed. "You've met them."

"Aw, man, are you kidding me? I know you don't mean those Winchester boys."

"That's exactly who I mean."

"You can't ride with them! They suck!"

"Managed to kick your ass!"

"Don't. Ever. Bring. That. Up. Again. My ass has never been kicked, comprende?"

"Sorry, I don't speak delusional."

"Again, bite me. Get here."

"See you soon."

She hung up. Lynn was watching her.

"What the hell did Danny want?" she demanded.

Jayne shrugged, eyes on the carpet. "He's got some weirdo case he'd like some help on… wouldn't give me the details over the phone…"

Lynn snorted. "Dean'll be happy about that."

Jayne nodded. "Um… also, he… he said he saw Stephen."

Lynn almost dropped her laptop. She caught it just in time, her mouth falling open. "What?"

Jayne looked her in the eye. "Danny saw Steve. Out in Mineral Wells, West Virginia."

"Is he still there?"

"Yeah. That's where Danny wants to meet us. Look, I know what I said back in Burkitsville…"

"But I strongly disagreed with what you said back in Burkitsville," Lynn interrupted. "So if you want to go out to Mineral Wells and track down Stephen, I'm all for it."

Jayne smirked. "Thought you might say that. All right, then it's settled. We're heading out to West Virginia."

Lynn shut her laptop. "Now all we got to do is convince Sam and Dean to come along."

"Think they'll give us a problem about it?"

"Not Sam," Lynn was quick to say. "I'm sure he'll be ok with it. Dean, though… well, it's usually hit or miss with him. I'd say we got a fifty-fifty shot."

Jayne sighed. "Great. Well, we're going, whether he likes it or not."

Lynn raised an eyebrow, smirking. "And that attitude is sure to win him over to our side."

"Bite me."

* * *

"You want to _what_?"

Lynn rolled her eyes at Dean's outburst, taking a seat at the small table in the corner of the room. Her eyes traveled over to Sam, who was still stretched out on his bed. He wrinkled his nose, sending her a sympathetic smile.

Jayne was standing in the middle of the room, two inches from Dean's chest, staring the elder Winchester down. She had just finished explaining the situation: Danny had called, he'd seen Stephen, he'd invited them hunting. Predictably, Dean's reaction had been unreasonable.

"Are you actually mad right now?" Jayne asked, sounding surprisingly calm.

Dean faltered. "Uh… well… not _mad_…"

"Because I explained the situation very thoroughly to you," Jayne went on. "And I got to say, your reaction is a little… ridiculous."

Lynn pinched the bridge of her nose. That was sure to rile Dean back up.

"_Ridiculous_?" he repeated dangerously.

"Yeah," Jayne returned, her tone growing more sardonic with every word. "We aren't working a case right now. We aren't even that far from West Virginia. Danny's offered us a hunt, which we've been looking for. More importantly, Danny's also sighted my little brother around town, and we all know how long _he's_ been missing in action. There is absolutely no reason not to go. There is no reason for you to be exploding. And there is every reason for me to _want _to go. So, Lynn and I are going to West Virginia – with or without you."

Dean folded his arms across his chest, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, you are, are you?"

"Damn straight."

"You're just gonna go ahead and do whatever you damn well please?"

"Sounds about right."

He smirked. "You really think that's a good idea?"

Jayne cocked an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"You're going to take a tip and a hunt from Danny Hannigan?" Dean asked. 'The guy who beat you to a bloody pulp the last time you saw him? And you don't see a problem with that?"

Lynn looked at Sam, slightly confused. Sam shrugged.

Jayne frowned. "That wasn't Danny! It was a demon!"

"No, it _was_ Danny! The demons possessed the house, remember? Not the giant red-headed moron!"

"I can't believe what an idiot you're being!"

"Excuse me?"

"House or person, the effect is the same! Danny can't be held responsible for that shit!"

"Oh yeah? Well from where I'm standing, he sure as hell can!"

"Well, from where I'm standing? You're being an idiot! And I'm still going!"

"How do you even know this hunt is real, huh? He didn't even tell you what was going on!"

"He told me about my little brother! That's all I need to know!"

"Oh, that's smart."

"He's _Danny_! I've known him since _childhood_! I watched him go through _puberty_!"

"And that means he's a-ok, right?"

"Damn right it does!"

"You don't even know what we're hunting!"

"So what?"

"So… so… he could be lying!"

"He's not lying! Why would he be lying? That's stupid!"

"You're stupid!"

"Real mature."

"Listen to me, Goldilocks; I got a bad feeling about this one. Ok? And I don't trust that Hannigan boy…"

"Well, I do. And I'm going."

"Well, fine! Go! But I'm not coming!"

"Fine!"

Jayne turned and marched for the door. Lynn sat up straighter in her chair, suddenly worried.

"Where the hell are you going?" Dean thundered.

"West Virginia!"

"But… you… I said no!"

Jayne, having opened the door partially, suddenly froze. Lynn winced. Then Jayne slammed the door shut again and whirled around to glare at Dean.

Dean tried not to flinch. He failed. Lynn chewed her lip nervously, watching as Dean folded his arms and stood his ground. Jayne's glower faded, and she grew calm. Dangerously calm.

"You said no?" she asked slowly.

Dean wisely did not answer.

Jayne lifted her chin, staring Dean down. "Who the hell do you think you're talking to?"

"Look, I…"

"No, you look," she interrupted. "Just because we ride together does not mean you have any control over what my sister and I do, or where we go."

Dean didn't say anything.

"You don't have to come," Jayne went on. "Stay here, if you want. I'm not going to twist your arm. But Lynn and I? We're going to West Virginia."

She turned back to the door. Swung it open. Then stopped again and looked at Dean over her shoulder.

"You don't have to come," she said again. "But just remember: two weeks ago? Your father texted you coordinates with no explanation attached. So you dragged all of us off to the middle of Wisconsin, on a hunt neither of us knew anything about – a hunt we weren't even positive existed! And did Lynn and I bitch? No! We shut up, got in the truck, and followed your ass to Fitchburg, no questions asked!"

Silence.

Then Jayne shrugged, turning back around. "But you don't have to come."

She stepped outside and slammed the door behind her.

Lynn sat stock still in her chair, staring at Dean with wide eyes. He didn't move from the center of the room. He just stared at the door where Jayne had been moments before.

She looked to Sam instead, who was still on his bed, eyes as wide as hers. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Help?" she whispered.

Sam took a deep breath. "Dean."

"What?" Dean snapped.

"You know we're going to have to go with them, right?"

Dean didn't answer.

"Dean," Sam said again. "Jayne was right; they followed us to Fitchburg, we can follow them to Mineral Wells."

Still nothing.

"Dean," Lynn tried. "Please."

He looked at her.

She gave him the saddest eyes she could muster. "It's our baby brother."

For a moment, Dean just stared at her. Then, suddenly, his foot swung out violently and he kicked the bed so hard it shook, the headboard rattling against the motel room wall.

"Damn it!" he snapped. Then he stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

Lynn blinked. Stared at the bathroom door a moment. Then she looked at Sam.

Sam wrinkled up his nose and offered her a sheepish smile. "Coffee?" he asked.

"Sure."

They got up and headed outside.

"That was a yes, right?" Lynn said as Sam shut the door behind them.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Or, as close to a yes as we're going to get."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Exactly what is his problem?"

"I don't know."

"Seriously. Why doesn't he like Danny?"

"Well… uh… like he said. I think it might have something to do with Danny… you know… beating your sister to a… bloody… pulp."

He gave her another sheepish face, shrugging apologetically.

Lynn blinked. "That was a demon!" she exploded.

"Look, I know that, and you know that, and Jayne knows that," Sam replied. "And you know, somewhere deep down, Dean knows that too. But… look… I just think that… whatever is between Dean and your sister… you know, I think it might be more than just friendship… at least, on Dean's side. Not that he'll ever admit to it, don't get me wrong, but…"

Sam took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, shrugging again. "I just think… maybe… he's a little jealous."

"What?"

"Well, Jayne and Danny used to be a thing, right? I just think…"

"Dean is jealous of Danny?"

Sam scratched the back of his neck. "I don't know… maybe…"

Lynn blinked. "Dean is jealous of Danny… because he likes Jayne."

Sam shrugged again. "Um… yeah. Possibly."

Lynn smiled.

Sam frowned. "What?"

"That's… _adorable_!"

Sam's frown deepened. "What?" he asked again.

"That's adorable," Lynn repeated, her smile getting wider. "That's like… puppies and kittens and ducklings adorable."

"Uh… ok…"

"No, it totally is," Lynn informed him. "And you know it."

"Um… I… uh… I do?"

"Yep," she smirked. "Coffee?"

"Uh… I… sure?"

Lynn headed for the car.

Sam followed, still frowning, totally confused.

* * *

Jayne pressed down on the gas, engine roaring as she flew past the green road sign that read "Mineral Wells."

Lynn chewed her bottom lip, eyeing her sister warily out the corner of her eye.

Jayne glowered darkly through the windshield.

"So…" Lynn said. "Where's Danny meeting us?"

"Some dive bar next door to the Microtel."

"Cool."

Silence. Lynn fidgeted uncomfortably.

"You know, Dean didn't mean anything by what he said back in Illinois," Lynn spoke suddenly.

Jayne's dark glower transferred momentarily from the road to Lynn.

Lynn swallowed and ignored the look. "I mean… he's just looking out for us."

"And who the hell asked him to look out for us?"

"Well… no one… but he's just… you know, trying to be a friend."

"Yeah, well, if he was really our friend, he'd shut the hell up and help us find our little brother."

More silence.

"So… I don't suppose there's anything I can say that will make you less angry with him, is there?"

"Nope."

"Figured."

Lynn sighed, leaning back in her seat. Jayne kept glaring straight out the windshield, driving too fast.

Soon, they reached the Microtel.

Lynn crinkled her nose at the tiny, outdated motel. "Are we staying there?" she asked.

Jayne shrugged. Nothing more was said as she turned into the parking lot next door to the motel, parking as close as possible to the entrance of the little tavern Danny had designated as their meeting spot. It was rundown, with countless cars packing the too small lot, and country music was playing loudly from inside.

Dean's black Impala coasted into the open space beside them.

"I see Danny's Harley," Lynn observed as Jayne shut down the engine. "He's here."

"Good," Jayne grunted, swinging open her door. Lynn scrambled out of the cab too, following Jayne towards the front door.

Sam hurried to catch up with them. Dean kept his distance. "Are they going to be like this the whole time we're here?" Lynn hissed at Sam.

Sam sighed, shaking his head. "I seriously hope not. That was the longest ride of my life."

"I know, right? Jayne wouldn't say a word."

"Lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"Dean wouldn't shut up."

They entered the bar then, and all hope of continuing their conversation dissolved.

It was packed and smoky, the music too loud to hear over. Jayne moved forward, at the head of the group, her head turning every which way.

"_Gibson_!"

Lynn heard Danny's booming voice echo out over the chatter of the bar patrons. Seconds later, the tall, broad-shouldered redhead pushed his way through the crowd, threw his arms around Jayne, and lifted her off the ground in a gigantic, aggressive, bone-crushing bear hug.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jayne barked at him.

Danny laughed, swinging her around. "Hugging you! Obviously! Geez, sometimes you are such an alien."

"Put me down!"

He complied, still laughing. "How's my best girl?"

"Go to hell."

Nothing ever made Danny stop laughing, Lynn noted, rolling her eyes. He chuckled again, and then pushed past Jayne.

"Lynnette!" he bellowed, wearing that shit-eating grin as he roughly tousled her hair, mussing it beyond repair.

She shrieked, predictably, shoving his arm away and kicking him in the shin. "Damn it, Danny!"

"Ow! What the hell?"

"You touched my hair _and_ called me Lynnette – two things you know I hate!"

"Love you too, Lynnsies."

"I will kill you _so_ slowly and painfully."

Danny threw his head back and laughed. Then he shoved past her to clap Sam on the back – hard enough that Sam's knees nearly buckled. "I remember these two boners!" he exclaimed.

"Wow," Jayne remarked dryly. "Impressive vocabulary, Hannigan."

"Sam, right?" he asked, giving the younger Winchester's shoulder a vigorous shake.

Sam winced, slightly. "Yeah. That's me."

"The fireman, right? Mr. Hero?"

"Uh…"

"Shut it, Danny," Lynn snapped.

Danny made a face at her, and then moved on to Dean. The punch in the arm Danny bestowed on the older Winchester was decidedly unfriendly, Lynn noticed, despite the grin on Danny's face.

"And you," Danny smirked. "Can't forget you, can I?"

Dean smirked back – a smirk equally as unfriendly as Danny's punch. "Let's hope not."

Danny laughed. He nudged Dean in the arm, and smirked again. Lynn watched, ill at ease, not buying the smirk for a minute. It was a plastic mask, obviously fake, barely covering some serious animosity.

"Owe you a few hits, there," Danny grinned, his joking manner ringing false. "Don't I, Winchester?"

Dean's grin was equally plastic, his laugh threatening at best. "Anytime, anyplace," he returned, winking. Lynn sighed. Dean's wink, usually so charming, did nothing to sell the joke.

She exchanged a pained look with Sam. Sam grimaced back at her.

This hunt was going to suck.

"I got us a table," Danny announced. "Perfect little spot. Only place you can see the door where the door can't see you."

He led the way to a booth in the corner, hidden around the jukebox. "I'll get first round," Sam volunteered quickly – _too _quickly. Before anyone could argue, he had vanished into the crowd.

Lynn slid into the round booth beside her stepsister. Danny squeezed himself on the edge, right beside Jayne.

Dean glowered at Danny as he lowered himself beside Lynn. Lynn pinched the bridge of her nose. Danny paid them no mind, lifting a half-full beer from the table and offering it to Jayne. "Here," he said. "Drink this."

Jayne stared at him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because I left it unattended in this shithole of a bar! Someone probably roofied it."

"So you're giving it to _me_?"

"Duh! I'm not going to drink it!"

"Nice, asshole."

"Hey, this is the only way we'll know if someone messed with it! You don't pass out, it's fine; you pass out, some creep dropped something in it."

"You are so close to having that Heineken wind up in your lap."

Danny smirked at her, taking the beer and draining it in one gulp.

Jayne smirked back. "If that beer really was roofied… I am so leaving your ass to sleep it off in the bar."

Danny touched his chest, looking wounded. "You're the worst knight in shining armor I've ever had."

Jayne smacked him in the arm.

He shoved her in the shoulder.

Sam chose that moment to return, five PBRs in hand. "Here," he said, smiling uncertainly.

Dean stood, letting Sam slide into the booth next to Lynn, and then took his seat again.

"So," Lynn spoke, getting straight to business. "What's this hunt you mentioned on the phone, Danny? Why couldn't you explain it until we got here?"

"Ooh," he smirked, leaning in across the table. "All work and no play makes Lynn a dull girl, huh?"

She kicked him under the table.

"Ow," Sam complained.

Lynn winced, turning to him. "Crap, I'm sorry! I was aiming for Danny!"

"No, it's fine," Sam assured her… through clenched teeth. "I, uh… have long legs."

Jayne smacked Danny upside the head.

"What the hell was that for?" Danny bellowed.

Jayne shrugged. "Doing Lynn a solid."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Thanks, Jayne."

"I'm here for you."

"Seriously, Danny," Lynn said, focusing. "What's the hunt?"

"I'll get to it, I'll get to it," he waved her off. "Right now, we got to talk family business."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jayne demanded.

"Hunting _is_ the family business," Lynn retorted.

"I'm talking about Steve! Duh! Why do you think I asked you to meet me here, huh? I told you, I talked to the bartender. Guy said your brother's been in here just about every night for the past week. You got to keep a sharp eye, or we might miss him walking in."

Dean chuckled dryly. Lynn closed her eyes, waiting for the worst.

He did not disappoint.

"Well, that's just typical," Dean announced. "What did I tell you, Goldilocks?"

Jayne glared at Dean. "I don't know. You'll have to be more specific. See, I tune out most of the crap you tell me, on the grounds that it's probably stupid."

They were the first words the two of them had spoken to one another in eight hours. Lynn shook her head. Why was she not surprised the words were so confrontational?

Dean glared back. "I told you that your boy Danny here was blowing smoke. And here we are, in good old West Virginia, waiting for details on a hunt that for some reason, he isn't giving us. I wonder why that would be."

"Dean…" Sam warned his brother. "Don't do this…"

"Well, if you were listening…. which I know is difficult for you," Jayne retorted. "Then you would have heard _exactly_ why we're not getting the details yet."

"Oh, I was listening," Dean returned. "And you want to know what I heard?"

"Not particularly."

"Wow," Danny commented, grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning. "What's wrong with you two?"

Lynn kicked him – and this time she didn't miss.

"Dude," Danny whined. "Ow!"

"Uh… guys?" Sam said.

Dean leaned in closer to Jayne, who glared at him, maintaining cold eye contact without flinching.

"I heard," he drawled. "That this hunt…"

"Guys," Sam said again. "Seriously."

Dean ignored him. "This hunt… is not real."

"Ok, am I just invisible now?" Sam complained.

"It was a ploy," Dean pushed, eyes boring into Jayne's. "And you fell for it, sweetheart."

Jayne stared at him.

"Oh, no…" Lynn murmured.

"_Guys_," Sam said.

"Did you just call me a liar?" Danny asked.

A smirk spread slowly across Jayne's face. "Well, there are some deductive reasoning skills for you," she sniped, her eyes never leaving Dean's. "Where'd you pull that genius conclusion from? Cause if I had to guess, I'd say it probably wasn't your _brain_…"

"Stephen Juarez walked into this bar about two minutes ago," Sam suddenly snapped, losing all patience with the people sitting around him.

Lynn felt her jaw drop. She turned to Sam momentarily, and then craned her head in all directions, searching for her brother. "_What_?" she demanded. "Where?"

"He's at the bar," Sam replied, taking a swig of his beer. "And he just ordered three shots of tequila."

Jayne was looking now too. She spotted him first. Lynn saw her sister's face morph from pissed off to shocked and… and…

And sad, she decided. That was the best word for it.

"Got to say, he's got the right idea," Sam went on conversationally. "I mean, straight tequila's looking pretty good to me too right about now."

Lynn rose up as far as the table would allow her, still craning her head in search of her brother. Finally, she found him, sitting at the bar, methodically slamming his way through the three shots on the counter in front of him.

Jayne pushed on Danny's shoulder, forcing him out of the booth, and then climbed out after him, marching for the bar.

Lynn slid out behind her, struggling to keep up with her sister's long-legged strides.

Stephen looked up from the bar at just that moment, choking down the last of his shots, and his eyes fell right on his sisters.

"Steve!" Lynn called.

He bolted.

* * *

Jayne was running, shoving bar patrons out of her way, hot on Stephen's tail as he tore for the door. She could feel Lynn racing after her; assumed the other three hunters were following on her heels.

They waded through the packed bar, ducked out the front entrance, tore through the parking lot, around the corner of the building. Jayne flew past trashcans, past a dumpster, past parked cars, catching her brother as he made a leap for the fence separating the bar from the Microtel.

She caught him by the collar of his leather jacket, jerking him back from the fence. He whirled and she snatched him by the lapels, slamming his back against the fence.

Surprised, apologetic, slightly annoyed gray eyes blinked up at her. Stephen lifted his hands up in surrender. "All right, all right, you caught me," he said. "Let go before I bruise."

"So you can run again?" she retorted. "Ha-ha. I don't think so."

Stephen sighed. Jayne heard running footsteps on the concrete behind her. "Cue the rest of the Scooby gang, eh?" he drawled.

She yanked him off the fence and slammed him back against it. Stephen winced. "Don't be cute," she snapped. "You are ten seconds from a headlock."

"You're abusive."

"Why'd you run?"

No answer.

"Stephen… why the _hell _did you run?"

"Steve!"

Lynn appeared beside them, panting. "What the hell were you thinking?" she gasped out. "We're _family_, not demons! You are _not_ supposed to run from us!"

Stephen sighed and rolled his eyes, knocking his head back against the fence. "That's a matter of perspective," he grumbled.

Jayne shoved him up against the fence a little harder. "_Headlock_," she growled.

"Yo!" Danny's voice rang out from behind her.

Jayne rolled her eyes at the same time Stephen and Lynn did. Danny appeared on her other side, wearing his typical shit-eating grin. Right behind him were Sam and Dean, taking their place on her right side, one at each of Lynn's shoulders.

Stephen caught sight of them and groaned. "Them too?"

Sam gave Stephen a small, almost sheepish smile. "Hi."

Dean just grunted.

Stephen glared. "Hi," he said shortly. Then he turned back to Jayne. "Why the hell are you bringing _them_ along?"

Jayne shrugged. "A lot's changed since you've been gone."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means we ride together now."

"What the hell are you doing that for?"

"Oh, you know," Lynn answered. "Because of some crazy shit that went down in Chicago about three weeks ago."

"What kind of crazy shit?"

"The demonic kind," Jayne retorted. "Which you would have already known all about had you not been so busy running around the country, playing hide and seek with your head up your ass."

"So where the hell _have_ you been, Steve-man?" Danny spoke up, smirking. "And why the hell are you running from us, huh?"

Stephen glared at Danny. "Because I hate the sight of your face."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Lynn groaned. "Are you two really going to do this right now?"

"Why is _he_ here?" Stephen snapped.

"You're kidding, right?" Danny laughed. "Who do you think turned you in, runaway?"

Stephen looked at Jayne.

She looked back. "He saw you here last night," she explained. "And he called me."

Stephen glared at Danny. "Thanks."

He smirked. "Anytime."

"You know you really are pathetic," Stephen went on. "Using my sister's affection for me in yet another sad attempt to worm your way back into her pants? Whole new low."

Jayne simmered, seeing red. "Shut up, Steve!"

"Hey, I don't have to worm," Danny returned. "If that's what I wanted, I could get it… anytime, anywhere, and I wouldn't need some stupid plan to do it."

Jayne's jaw dropped. She let go of Stephen, turning on Danny. "What the _fuck_ did you just say?"

Stephen lunged. Jayne reached for him and missed. Her brother tackled Danny, knocking him to the pavement.

"Stephen!" she thundered.

He paid her no mind, grabbing Danny by his flannel shirt and punching him in the face.

"Don't you ever talk about my sister like that!" he roared.

In mere seconds, the two of them were rolling around on the ground, fists flying, elbows in one another's stomachs, kicking and wrestling and choking one another. It was suddenly a full blown wrestling match.

"Stop it!" Lynn exclaimed.

Danny slugged Stephen across the jaw and climbed on top of him.

"I am going to kill both of you!" Jayne exploded.

Stephen gained the upper hand, kicking Danny in the ribs and rolling them both over. He hit the taller man in the eye.

Dean chuckled. "My money's on the kid."

Jayne shot him an incredulous look. He smirked at her.

"Stop it! Please!" Lynn screamed at the two fighting men.

Jayne had had enough. She jumped in and grabbed Stephen under the arms, trying to wrestle him off Danny. He fought back, twisting against her grip. She struggled with him. Danny grabbed Stephen's neck.

Sam was there in a flash, grabbing Danny's arms and pulling. Jayne yanked on her brother, and together she and Sam managed to break up the fight.

"Let me go!" Stephen shouted.

She shoved him back against the fence. "Cool it!"

"You little shit!" Danny hollered.

Sam pushed him back, keeping a tight grip on his jacket. "Calm down," he ordered.

"I'm going to…!"

"Shut up, Danny!" Jayne snapped. She shook her head, frustrated. "You know, you two are unbelievable. You can't be around one another for longer than three seconds, or suddenly you're throwing punches! Aren't you sick of this shit yet? Because the rest of us sure as hell are!"

Stephen glowered darkly in Danny's direction and said nothing.

Danny grumbled something under his breath, shoving Sam's arm off him.

Jayne let go of Stephen. Neither man moved toward the other.

She smacked her brother in the head.

"Ow!" Stephen exclaimed. "What the hell?"

"Never beat someone up for me! You know better than that; I can do it myself!" Still glaring, she marched over to Danny and smacked him the head.

"Watch it!"

"Never talk about me like I'm meat, you got it?" she barked at him. "Not even to rile up my brother – _especially_ not to rile up my brother! And you!"

She smacked Dean in the head. "Hey!" he shouted.

"Stop enjoying this!" she hollered.

Silence.

Jayne glared at her brother, who was glaring at the ground. Then she glared at Danny, who was shuffling about awkwardly, looking embarrassed. That was the nice thing about Danny Hannigan. He had a temper, but his tantrums never lasted long. He got mad, he blew up, and then ten seconds later, he got over it.

She glared at Dean instead.

He glared right back.

"So, uh…" Danny spoke up suddenly, wiping blood from his nose. "I got a room next door…"

"And?" Stephen snapped.

"Shut it, Steve," Lynn intervened. "Let's go over to Danny's, all right? Talk this out? Discuss the case? Please? And without the fists?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Sam spoke up. "I think we all need to cool down a little. Talk business."

Silence.

"Guys?" Lynn asked.

"I'm for it," Danny agreed.

More silence.

"Jayne?" Lynn tried.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, let's do that."

Again, silence.

"Really?" Lynn bit out.

"Fine," Dean growled.

"Whatever," Stephen muttered.

Jayne shook her head, sighing. "You all suck."

She marched toward the Microtel. Danny hurried after her, keys jangling. Stephen marched off in the same direction, and Dean followed, keeping a wide berth.

Sam and Lynn took the rear, exchanging a look and a sigh, shaking their heads the whole way to the motel.

* * *

Dean leaned against the wall of Danny Hannigan's motel room, as close to the door as possible, his arms folded stiffly across his chest.

Stephen stood on the opposite end of the room, also leaning on the wall, arms folded in the same stiff, annoyed manner. Lynn handed him ice, which – after rolling his eyes – he held up against his swelling lower lip.

Dean glowered at him a moment, and then chose to glower at Jayne instead. She was sitting at the small table by the window, next to Sam, waiting for Danny. Danny slapped a file folder down on the table in front of them, taking his seat on Jayne's other side. Lynn handed him ice for his swelling eye, and Danny snatched it from her in irritation. Lynn smacked him in the head and stomped over to the bed, sitting down with crossed arms and a dirty look. Danny paid her no mind as he pressed the ice to his eye, and opened the file folder in front of him.

"Here's why this joint caught my eye," he drawled, lifting out papers and flinging them towards Jayne and Sam. "One month, four deaths, all very strange."

Sam drew the papers towards him. "What kind of strange?" Jayne asked, leaning back in her chair and studying the Hannigan boy.

Dean glowered at the back of Danny's head.

"Strange," Danny returned. "And if Dad hadn't shunted this one my way, I might have never even seen it for a hunt. But… well the first guy. Man had a good life, was happy for the most part… no recent deaths or breakups or anything like that… and then suddenly he was breaking down in the workplace, rushing home and…"

Danny trailed off.

"And what?" Dean barked.

Danny glared at him. "And hanging himself from his ceiling fan."

Silence.

"And the other three?" Lynn asked.

Danny shook his head. "Guy number two goes bungee jumping. Gets a taste for the adrenaline, starts trying riskier and riskier stunts… by the end of the week, he's dead. Russian roulette."

"Russian roulette?" Jayne repeated incredulously.

Danny shrugged. "And then there are these last two jokers. Bar brawl, right there in that dive we just left. One guy gets up, angry as hell, and just starts beating up this complete stranger. Kills the man. Didn't know the guy, couldn't explain why he'd gotten so angry…"

"So the cops arrest him," Stephen spoke up.

Everyone looked at the kid. Stephen kept talking. "He slips into a funk on the ride to the station. They lock him up in the holding cell. By the time they come back, the guy's used his shirt to hang himself from the bars on the window."

Silence.

"How'd you know?" Danny demanded.

Stephen shrugged. "What the hell do you think I'm doing hanging around this place, huh? Working the same case you are, Hannigan."

More silence.

Sam leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. "So… you think all these are related?'

"That's about right," Danny replied.

"How?"

"Got me by the short ones. All I know is that the people I've interviewed say all these guys were acting pretty strange. Angry guy had been growing steadily angrier before the blow up – took about a week, his pal said. And ceiling fan dude had been slipping into weird moods all week before the suicide – but not before that week. And the adrenaline guy, well… you get the picture."

"So… you think something's… what, exactly?" Lynn asked. "Possessing people? Or controlling people's minds?"

"More like controlling their emotions," Stephen returned.

Everyone looked at him.

Stephen sighed harshly. "You all going to do that every time I speak? I swear, it's like I got five Chihuahuas in my rear windshield."

"You're lucky you don't have five knuckles in your face," Jayne snapped. "Now… will you please explain what you're talking about – and do it without the attitude?"

"I'll try, but it goes against my nature," Stephen smirked.

She rolled her eyes and glared at him,

He sighed again. "I think we're dealing with a demon or a ghost… maybe a psychic? Someone – or something – with the ability to affect people's moods. You know, like driving them so sad they're suicidal, or pissing them off to the point of committing homicide?"

"Or my personal fave… getting them so hungry for adrenaline they play a game of Russian roulette and lose," Danny spoke up. "Yeah… as much as I hate to agree with the punk kid over there, I got to say… that theory makes sense."

"But what could affect someone's moods?" Lynn asked, frowning.

"We saw it back in Stamping Ground," Jayne pointed out. "All those demons taking root on your property, Danny… they made everyone angry."

"Yeah," Dean commented snidely. "Really angry. Homicidal angry… right, Danny?"

Danny looked at him. Dean cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Right," the Hannigan boy agreed slowly, his eyes never leaving Dean's. "Some of us did get… homicidal angry."

Dean smirked his way. "So what do you think? There might be demons hanging around here? Making people crazy or… how did you put it Lynn?"

He screwed up his face in thought. "Uh… oh, I remember. Preying on people's inner resentments and not-so-nice desires?"

He smirked in Danny's direction once again. The other man glowered at him.

Lynn eyed him, then Danny, and raised her eyebrow. "Yeah, that sounds right…" she murmured hesitantly – and quickly changed the subject. "I don't know though, you guys. The demons back at the pub only made people angry, and they used emotions we already felt to do it. These people… it's like their behavior just came out of the blue. Unexpected, no back story… the guy who started the brawl didn't even know the guy he killed."

"Or so he says," Dean retorted. "I mean… can we trust a guy being mind-manipulated who's going around whacking people?"

"I don't know, Dean," Sam spoke up. "The emotions… this feels to me more like a spirit. You know, recreating what it felt before its own death? Sad, angry… maybe a little excited?"

"Well, whatever the deal is, there's a common source," Stephen spoke up. "All these guys can be traced back to that dive bar we just left. Homicide guy attacked the other man inside there, suicide guy visited the place a week before he killed himself, and the adrenaline junkie was a bartender there. I say whatever this thing is, we're going to find it at the bar."

"Has it occurred to anyone that maybe this isn't our kind of thing?" Jayne asked.

Danny eyed her incredulously. "No," he snorted.

She rolled her eyes. "Look… this whole thing sounds like kind of a stretch, you guys. I mean, a bunch of random, unconnected deaths… I don't know. We might be jumping the gun here."

"Yeah, tell that to the next vic," Danny retorted. "I'm sure he'll be popping up in a day or two."

"I'm with Goldilocks," Dean spoke up. "This whole thing sounds… I don't know… stupid."

"You're stupid," Danny snapped.

Dean snorted. "Ooh, good one. What other genius commentary have you got stored up in that impressive brain of yours?"

Danny swung around in his chair and glowered at Dean. "I get it, ok?" he growled. "You're resident skeptic. Now shut up so the rest of us can actually solve this case."

Dean laughed out loud. "Yeah, and I'm sure you'll be a big help."

"Can it, Dean," Lynn snapped.

Dean fell silent, grumbling under his breath. Danny smirked at him.

"Wipe that smirk of your face, Daniel," Lynn ordered.

The smirk vanished. Danny lowered humbled eyes to the surface of the table. Lynn heaved a heavy sigh.

"I admit it, Jayne's got a point," she announced. "It does seem like kind of a stretch. But that doesn't mean we don't have a hunt on our hands. I say we all get some sleep and come back at this thing tomorrow. Do a little more investigating, some research… figure out what we're dealing with, if anything. Ok?"

"I agree," Sam said. "Dean?"

Dean grunted.

Lynn sighed. "Jayne? Danny? Steve?"

"Sounds good," Jayne said.

"Whatever," Danny grumbled.

Stephen shrugged.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Great."

She got to her feet and walked to the door, swinging it open and stepping outside. "Sam? Want to get rooms?"

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, getting up as well. "Sounds good."

The two of them vanished outside, shutting the door behind them.

Dean stayed on the wall, glaring around the room. "You got a room here, Stephen?" Jayne asked her brother.

He nodded grimly.

"Hey, man," Danny spoke up. "I'm sorry about earlier. You and me and the fists… we really got to cut that out."

Stephen shrugged. "Stop sleeping with my sister."

"You stop sleeping with mine!"

"Whoa," Jayne said, standing up. Danny, who was red and half out of his chair, looked up at her apologetically and then lowered himself back into his seat.

"No one is sleeping with anybody's sister," she said. "Not anymore. Both of you let it go or I am killing you."

Silence.

"Sorry," Danny finally said. "I… I shouldn't… I know I shouldn't… say things like that."

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Jesus, Danny. Don't pull something."

"I'm going to bed," Stephen announced.

He pushed himself off the wall and stormed out of the room.

Jayne watched him go. Then she looked at Danny.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said.

Danny nodded. "Night, Gibson."

Then Jayne was out the door, racing after her little brother.

It was just Dean and Danny. Danny stared at him. Dean glowered back, eyes hard, his jaw set in a firm line.

"Just so you know," he said evenly. "You get any feelings of rage and resentment while working this case and decide to go all homicidal… don't."

Danny held up his hands. "Look, dude…"

"I mean it," Dean interrupted, still even-toned, still hard-jawed. "Don't. Because if you so much as raise your hand in Jayne's direction, I will rip you into so many pieces, we will never find them all."

Danny tilted his chin and glared directly into Dean's eyes.

"I respect you for that," he announced.

Dean kept up his end of the stare off. He waited for Danny to finish.

"But back in Stamping Ground, that wasn't me," Danny went on. "If it hadn't been for those demons, I would have never hurt her. And I will never hurt her again. She knows that."

Dean nodded. Allowed himself a small smirk.

"But I don't," he returned.

Danny said nothing. Just stared.

Dean nodded again. "G'night."

"Night, Winchester."

Dean turned and marched out the door.

* * *

Jayne tracked her brother to his motel room door.

"We'll be up tomorrow morning," she told him, stepping in front of him so he couldn't unlock the room and head inside. "I'll come get you when we're ready to go."

"Fine," Stephen bit out.

She studied him. He refused to look at her.

Jayne sighed. "Do you not want to work this case with us?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. As long as we're all here, we might as well."

She studied him so more. He refused to look at her again, for several seconds, until he finally tired of the scrutiny and met her eyes, glaring. "What?" he demanded.

She shrugged too. "Nothing."

Silence.

"Steve… we _are_ going to talk about this, you know."

"Talk about what?"

"Your little disappearing act back in Indiana."

Stephen maintained eye contact with her. "You already know my side," he told her. "Nothing's changed."

More silence. She stared at him and he stared back. Finally she stepped away from the door. He moved to unlock it.

"Are you still going to be here when we wake up tomorrow?" she asked.

He looked at her over his shoulder. "Honestly? I don't really know."

She nodded. "Ok."

He nodded. Then he stepped inside his room and shut the door behind him.

Jayne headed for the main office to find her stepsister, blinking back a tear.

* * *

She was a young woman, in her early twenties, and she was gorgeous.

Long blonde hair, big brown eyes, flawless skin. Slender and tall, curves in all the right places.

She was behind the wheel of a blue Toyota Corolla, driving down a twisty, heavily wooded back road, high in the hills.

The trees whipped by. Her tires squealed with every curve. She glanced down at the speedometer, smirking as the needle crept up towards 85. A green road sign reading Royalton flashed by outside her window.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, Landon!" she half-shouted into the cell phone cradled against her ear. "We're over! I don't want to get back together!"

"I never said you did!" a man's voice came through over the line. "But I know how close you were with Charlie and now that he's gone…"

"What? You thought I'd like to come over, cuddle up on the couch and cry on your shoulder? Get all vulnerable and then strip off my clothes?"

"Sasha, you know that's not what I meant! I'm just worried about you!"

"Well, don't be!" she snapped. "I'm fine! Ok? I'm fine! Charlie's death was a wakeup call, and I heard it. I'm going to be fine – in fact, I've never been better! And I'm also never coming back to you, Landon! Do you understand? We are through!"

"I don't think you mean that."

"Oh, trust me. I do."

Sasha hung up the phone and tossed it onto the passenger seat. Then she smirked down at the speedometer. The toe of her black pump pressed down harder on the gas pedal.

She threw her head back and laughed, the Corolla going more than 90, eyes not watching the road as she wheeled through her turns.

The tires slid. The car spun. Sasha gripped the wheel, trying to regain control of the vehicle. The Corolla's tires squealed and the car flew off the road, right through the rusted out rail along the hill. Sasha screamed as the car rolled all the way down the embankment.

The Toyota hit the bottom of the hill, upside down, and exploded. Flames erupted in the bottom of a ravine, smoke billowed up into the sky, and tires and axels and car doors flew in every direction.

Sam Winchester woke up.


	49. Don't Do Me Like That

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to Lov3good, SayNo2DemonBlood, wizziewoo123, supernatural94, krenee321, xXxKaraBeckerCutterxXx, hornblowerarchiekennedyfan, AshlynPaige92, Lynx, Spelllesswonder29, Three Moons, angeleyenc, Penelope Halliwell, damon-attic14, BlueEyedPisces, impalame, GoLdFiSh Oo, Nelle07, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, Joan J, Carver Edlund, MYP, Selma Fuente, DesElements,PushUpDasies, ColtFan165, skm228, fay-faerie, missingyourupdates, Willow99, sam riggs and dude where's my spirit gun for all the reviews!

So…. whoops? I'm _so _sorry it's been... like… forever. I know: I suck. If you guys think you've been neglected, talk to the fans of my Mummy story… they're probably ready to stone me to death. :) Anyway, I'm really sorry it took me about ten years to update. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Chapter 49: Don't Do Me Like That

Sam sat straight up in bed, gasping for breath. He looked all around the dark motel room, searching for a crashed car and an injured girl, but it was just a motel room. The woman named Sasha and her flaming Corolla were gone.

Dean snored in the next bed over.

Sam sprung out of bed, flipping on the lights. Dean grunted, starting up in bed, and groaned. "Man, what the hell…?"

"Get up, Dean!" Sam demanded. "Get up; we've got to go!"

"Dude, it's like four in the morning!"

"Now, Dean!"

Sam began throwing clothes on and snatching up weapons. Dean threw back the covers, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Sam, seriously… what the hell is going on?"

"Some girl is about to drive her car over a cliff, Dean, and we've got to stop her before she dies in a fiery car wreck! Now, will you move please?"

Dean moved. He jumped out of bed and grabbed his jeans. "So… is this another one of your nightmares?"

Sam barely glanced at him. He threw on his coat and marched for the door. "Yeah."

Dean was three steps behind him. They marched into the parking lot. "Should I…?" Dean began.

"We don't have time," Sam snapped. He raced for the Impala's passenger side door.

He was in the car before his brother had reached the driver's side. Dean slid in beside him and slammed the door. The engine turned over and the tires squealed as they tore out of the parking lot.

"Where are we go… what is that?" Dean demanded.

Sam was poring over a road map he'd snatched from the motel lobby. "We need to find Royalton Road now. Damn it, we're running out of time."

Dean said nothing. From then on out, Sam only spoke to give directions.

But in the end, none of it mattered. By the time they reached the cliff from Sam's nightmare, the sun was rising, the air smelled like burning rubber and gasoline, and the police and EMS were already on the scene.

Both Winchesters jumped from the car and ran to the metal barrier. The rail was broken in the middle; its rusty edges curled and twisted. Sam looked over the side desperately. The Corolla – or what used to be the Corolla – was now at the bottom of the cliff, hidden under a huge cloud of smoke.

Sam exhaled harshly, pulling on his hair.

Dean balanced his boot on the guard rail and surveyed the accident.

"We were too late," Sam breathed.

Dean glanced at him, and then looked away again, eyes returning to the accident. "We should talk to the cops," he said.

Sam nodded.

Dean sauntered on up to the nearest officer, Sam following behind, and flashed the cop a smirk and his fake FBI badge. "Hello, sheriff," he said. "I'm Agent Walsh, this is Agent Squier. We're with the FBI. I was wondering if we could ask you a few questions."

The sheriff, a pudgy middle-aged man with white hair, squinted up at him and folded his arms over his beefy chest. "Feds, huh? And what the hell are a couple of Feds doing nosing around a standard crash scene?"

"Wow," Dean commented. "Animosity."

"We think the victim might have been involved in an ongoing murder investigation," Sam spoke up.

The sheriff snorted. "Who, Sasha Gordon?"

"You know the victim?" Sam asked.

"Well, yeah, everyone knows everyone around here. My brother owns that dive bar she used to work for."

"Dive bar?" Sam repeated.

He looked at Dean. His brother met his eyes. "By any chance, would that dive bar be the one next door to the Microtel?" Dean asked.

The sheriff frowned. "Well… yes…"

"Does your brother have an employee named Landon?" Sam demanded.

"Landon? Well, yeah, he's the assistant manager…"

"Can I get a last name?"

"Creevey."

"Will he be working right now?"

"Probably not until later… I'm sorry, but what does Landon Creevey have to do with anything?"

Sam forced a smile. "We're not sure yet."

"One more thing," Dean said. "How exactly do you think Miss Gordon crashed her car?"

The sheriff was still frowning. "Well, it looks like she took the turn too fast," he said. "Road was wet, tires spun… she lost control of the car and went over the edge."

Sam looked at Dean. Dean looked at him. Sam forced another smile for the sheriff. "Thank you for your time."

The sheriff still looked befuddled as the two of them turned and walked back towards the car.

"What do you think?" Dean asked. "Got ourselves another adrenaline junkie gone suicidal?"

"Maybe," Sam murmured. "I don't know, Dean. It's not like she's the first person to drive too fast on a wet road."

"True. But she also worked at a creepy bar that supposedly makes you kill yourself."

They got into the Impala and slammed their doors. Dean started the engine.

"Something's got to be off," Sam said. "I mean, I had to have had that vision for a reason, right?"

Dean nodded noncommittally.

"Of course, you know what that means," Sam muttered.

Dean frowned. "No, not really."

"You're kidding, right?"

Dean shrugged.

Sam sighed. "Dean, so far all my visions can be traced back to one source."

"What's that?"

"The demon that killed Mom and Jess."

Silence.

"What are you talking about, Sammy?"

"Come on, Dean. First the fire with Jess, and then Lynn at the Hannigan place… our old house, Max Miller… Dean, they're all connected in some way to the demon."

"We don't know that."

"I think we do."

Dean sighed harshly. "So what are you saying, Sam? You think all these weird deaths… they're connected to the demon somehow?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Long silence.

"We're going to have to tell Lynn and Jayne, you know."

Dean grunted.

"And Stephen."

"What?"

"Dean, come on. We're well aware of what he can do. You think they haven't told him about me?"

No answer.

"Dean… we might have to tell Danny."

"Absolutely not."

His tone allowed no room for argument. Dean was determined; decided. The name Danny set him instantly on edge.

Sam took a deep breath. "Dean… we can't possibly work this case with him and not…"

"Oh, we sure as hell can."

"Dean."

"Don't 'Dean' me, Sam. We barely know the guy."

"Jayne and Lynn…"

"I don't care!" Dean thundered. "Do I look like I care?"

"Dean…"

"Jayne can say whatever she wants to about him!" Dean snapped. "But I don't trust him, ok? I don't trust him around her, I don't trust him around us, and I sure as hell am not about to trust him with this. Do I make myself clear?"

Silence.

"Do I make myself clear?" Dean demanded.

Sam shook his head. "Yeah," he said. "You're clear."

More silence.

"You know, I think you're being unreasonable," Sam spoke.

"The hell I am."

"You are," Sam insisted. "He doesn't seem like such a bad guy, Dean. Sure, he's a little loud… kind of obnoxious… but then, so are you."

"Yeah, but I don't smack around my ex-girlfriends."

"He was possessed, Dean."

"No he wasn't!"

"Well, he might as well have been!"

Silence.

Sam took another breath. "Can we just call this what it really is?"

"And what's that?"

"You're jealous."

Dean's jaw dropped indignantly. "I am not jealous!"

"You're practically green."

"I am not!"

"Look, if you and Jayne…"

"I am not jealous!" Dean thundered. "I'm just… I just think he's a bad guy, Sam."

"Right."

"What?"

Sam sighed. "Look… at the very least, can we just admit this is about Jayne?"

"This is not…!"

"Yeah," Sam cut him off. "It is."

The car was silent for so long it felt like hours. Finally, Dean spoke.

"We are not telling him!"

Sam leaned back in his seat, taking another deep breath. "Ok," he said, closing his eyes and exhaling. "Fine."

* * *

Dean squealed his tires as he pulled into the parking lot. He swung the car too fast into a parking space and flung it into park.

Sam sighed and climbed out of the car.

Dean watched his brother stalk off towards the motel room that Lynn and Jayne were sharing. He shut down the engine and climbed out of the car, shaking his head.

He did not want to hear that this case was connected to the demon. He did not want to work another job like the one in Michigan, running after Sam's nightmares, watching his brother trying to hunt through his migraines.

He also did not want to work with Danny Hannigan.

Sam knocked on the girls' door. Dean stepped towards the motel. A flash of orange out the corner of his eye stopped him cold.

Suddenly he was stomping across the parking lot, his jaw tight and his eyes flashing.

Dean reached the Superbird in record time and slammed Stephen Juarez into the side of it.

"What the hell?" Stephen exclaimed. "You off your meds, amigo?"

"Don't call me that," Dean snapped. "I'm not your amigo – I'm not your friend. But I _am_ the guy who is going to pummel you into the asphalt if you don't tell me right now where the hell you're going."

Stephen shrugged. "Coffee run."

"Yeah? With your luggage?"

"Never could travel light."

"Drop the attitude. You running off?"

"You going to stop me?"

Dean slammed the kid harder against the car. "Damn straight I'm going to stop you. I'm going to stop you so hard you'll be seeing canaries for a week."

Stephen chuckled dryly. Then the smirk vanished off his face and his gray eyes went cold. "Give it a go, Fonzerelli. I'm itching for a good brawl."

"Don't tempt me," Dean bit out. "I'd love to kill you. I'm just afraid I'll piss your sisters off."

"Oh," Stephen laughed shortly, with no mirth. "I see. So this is about my sisters, now?"

"Of course it is," Dean retorted. "You think I give a damn about you or where you go? All I care about is what you taking off again will do to them. You don't have to ride with them, so you don't have to see it – _you don't know what it feels like when your family splits on you!_"

Dean roared that last line, shoving Stephen harder against the car door. If he was being honest, in that moment it wasn't all about Stephen's sisters.

The kid shoved him off and Dean staggered backwards. Stephen flung himself off the car and advanced threateningly, his arms up. "So what then? What? You like my sisters? You like one of them specifically?"

Dean glowered.

"You trying to score points out here, tough guy? You stop me running off, herd me back into the motel... and then what? You get laid?"

"I think you better shut up."

"I think you better make me."

Dean collared him. Grabbed him by his leather jacket and yanked him toward the motel.

Stephen ducked loose and shoved him in the back.

Dean stumbled. He whirled around. The kid swung. Dean blocked the punch. Then he grabbed the kid by the arm and thrust him towards the motel.

Stephen easily shook his grasp and whipped back around to look at him. Dean grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and marched him backwards.

Stephen slugged him. Dean ducked, just in time. The kid broke free and danced out of his reach. Dean managed to rope him into a headlock.

This continued all the way across the parking lot and right up to Jayne and Lynn's room, where Dean managed to get Stephen by the lapels again and slam him into the door.

_Bang!_

Stephen shoved him. Dean held on tight, and slammed him back up against the door.

The door opened. Stephen fell backwards into the room and took Dean with him. They ended up in a heap on the floor.

Danny Hannigan looked down at the pair of hunters at his feet and roared with laughter.

Lynn leapt out of her chair and rushed to the scene. "What the hell are you two doing?"

"Get the hell off me!" Stephen thundered.

Dean complied, stumbling on his feet and backing off the kid. He kicked the other hunter in the boot.

"Dean!" Lynn scolded. "Seriously?"

He shrugged. "Your punk brother was making another run for it."

Lynn gawked at her brother. Dean glanced at the small table in the corner. Jayne stood, and caught his eye.

Dean shrugged again, looking away. "You're welcome."

Stephen hauled himself off the floor, dusting off his jeans. "Steve," Lynn said. "Did you really?"

The kid had the decency to look ashamed, but he just couldn't seem to lose the attitude. "Places to be."

Lynn looked stung.

Stephen rubbed his neck. "Man, I might need a chiropractor," he announced. "You, Winchester, are going to be hearing from my lawyer."

Dean scoffed. "Nah. Not if I finish you off right here and now."

"Stop it," Sam spoke up. "Both of you."

"Hey, don't look at me," Stephen returned. "Your boy started it. If it weren't for him, I might be halfway to Tijuana by now."

"Steve."

The kid whirled at Jayne's voice, finding his sister behind him.

She punched him in the nose.

Stephen stumbled backwards into the nightstand and took out the lamp.

Dean snorted.

Danny laughed out loud. "Man, I love you guys," he announced. "I haven't had this much fun hunting since I worked this haunted little strip club down in Reno…"

"Danny," Lynn interrupted. "It is so important to your sperm count that you do not finish that sentence."

Stephen regained his balance. He wiped at his nose. "Why are you always hitting me?" he asked his sister. "Seriously? If this was a foster care situation, you'd so be in jail."

Jayne didn't crack a smile. Stephen sighed. "Look, I'm sorry…"

"Really?" Jayne snapped. "I don't think you are."

Silence.

"Fine," Stephen broke the quiet. "I'm not."

"You want out?"

Silence again.

Jayne took a step forward. "I said, do you want out?" she growled. "Because if you do, I certainly don't want you here."

He stared at her.

"Are you going to leave or not?" she demanded.

Stephen's eyes traveled towards the door.

"Walk out now and I'll never forgive you," Lynn spoke.

He stared at her.

She stared back evenly. "Steve," she said. "You don't want to do this. Trust me; you do not want to walk out that door."

Her tone bridged on threatening. Stephen glanced hesitantly at his other sister. Jayne stared him down, her eyes hard.

Dean didn't buy it for a minute. If her brother walked out that door right now, she'd be a mess. A very well-hidden mess that refused to let anyone clean her up. And that was going to be one serious pain in his ass.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" he snapped. "Just stay!"

Everyone stared at him.

Dean ignored the looks, shrugging and leaning up against the wall. "All this pushing and shoving and shouting isn't saving any lives, people. Let's just grow up and get over it already."

Silence.

"Dean makes a good point," Lynn observed.

Dean smirked.

"Even though, ironically enough, he's definitely been a big part of the pushing and shoving and shouting…"

"Hey!" Dean retorted. "No good ever came from pointing fingers."

"Let's just argue later, all right? Work the case now?"

"I can get with that," Danny announced.

Neither Jayne nor Stephen spoke. They didn't make a move for the door either. Stephen finally took a seat on one of the beds, and Lynn handed him a handkerchief for his bloody nose.

Sam sighed with noticeable relief. "Good," he said. "To start things off, I think we've got another victim to add to the list."

Everyone stared at Sam but Dean. He just glared at the wall.

"What in the hell makes you say that?" Danny demanded.

"There was an accident on Royalton Road," Sam explained. "A young woman named Sasha Gordon spun out her tires and crashed through the guard rail."

"She dead?"

Dean saw the flinch that the others probably didn't. "Yes," Sam said through gritted teeth.

"Ok," Jayne said. "So… what does that have to do with us?"

"She worked at the bar," Sam explained. "Her ex-boyfriend, Landon Creevey, still works there. And we have reason to believe she was purposely driving too fast – if not trying to crash the car, at least trying to get a thrill out of the ride."

"Another adrenaline seeker," Lynn mused.

"Great," Stephen drawled, sounding annoyed. "So what's the plan?"

"We interview the family, her coworkers… and we try to track down this Landon guy," Sam replied. "Sound good?"

"Whatever."

"Good work, you guys," Lynn offered. "All of this is definitely connected in some way to that bar."

"Thanks," Dean said shortly. "Can we go?"

"Just one more thing," Danny said. "Exactly how the hell did you two find this out?"

Sam and Dean exchanged looks. Then Sam forced a smile. "We passed the accident scene on the road. Just lucky timing, I guess."

"Lucky timing?" Danny repeated.

Sam shrugged.

Danny whistled. "I'll tell you what? Either you two really are some seriously lucky sons of bitches, or you, kid, are lying your lily white ass off."

Sam blinked. Danny shrugged.

"But whatever – I don't really care. I take what I can get. We ready to go?"

"Um…" Sam said. "I guess…"

"Good. Let's go ask some questions, knock some heads, and put some evil sucker in the ground! _Woo!_"

He pumped his fist in the air and marched out the door.

Dean watched with narrowed eyes as the other man headed down the sidewalk, in the direction of his motel room. Jayne moved to follow, her brother and sister behind her. Dean glanced at Sam and then stepped in front of the door.

"Hold up."

Jayne fixed him with a glower. "You're in my way," she informed him.

He sneered, shortly, and then sobered to address the entire group. "Thought we'd give you a heads up," he announced. "This case might be a bit more complicated than we thought."

"Yeah?" Jayne shot back. "You think so?"

Dean bristled. "Yeah. I do."

"Found out a little unexpected something about the victims?"

"Something like that."

"And you don't think Danny needs to know about something like that?"

Silence.

Dean smirked. Before he could open his mouth, however, Sam cut in.

"I had another nightmare."

Dean sighed, slumping against the doorframe and gripping the bridge of his nose while the other three turned on Sam.

"The accident," Lynn murmured. "You and Dean didn't just stumble on the scene."

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Oh, _that's_ peachy," Stephen announced, rolling his eyes. "So, what? Huh? The vision fairy visited you last night, handed you the next victim in our case… and what? What makes things more complicated?"

"Steve," Lynn reprimanded. "Don't."

"Look, I've noticed a pattern with my visions," Sam explained. "First, with Jess, and then with you, Lynn…"

"And then your old house," Lynn picked up the story. "And Max Miller. I think I see where you're going with this."

"Then enlighten the rest of us," Jayne snapped.

"All Sam's visions," Lynn returned. "They have something to do with the demon."

Long silence.

"Man, that blows," Stephen said suddenly. "You only see the future when that bad SOB is on the move? I've got firepower all the time."

"Yeah," Dean practically snarled. "It's a real pain in the ass. Look, we just wanted to give you three a heads up, just in case this whole job goes to Hell. You know, literally."

He smirked. He got glares in response. Then he shrugged and turned, headed for the parking lot. "Let's go."

They followed him, a certain somebody giving him a wider than necessary berth. Jayne was being so cold he was getting frostbite.

He knew he'd been out of line the day before. Getting in her face about Danny, accusing her old friend of lying, throwing sarcastic one-liners and ironic nicknames in her direction.

But he'd only spoken the truth. He didn't trust Danny Hannigan. He didn't like Danny Hannigan. And he wasn't about to change his mind, no matter how long Jayne insisted on not speaking to him.

Even if he really missed Jayne speaking to him.

* * *

Jayne sauntered inside the bar next door to the motel, eyes roving around the dim dank tavern. It was early, and there were only a few local drunks sitting around, sipping on their beers and whiskeys.

Danny stepped in behind her and let the door shut with a _bang!_

Everyone looked up and stared at the two hunters.

Danny whistled low in her ear. "Damn," he whispered. "Are we in a Clint Eastwood movie?"

Jayne elbowed him in the gut. He grunted. "If we are," she informed him. "I'm Clint."

He snorted. She walked on into the bar, ignoring the looks from the patrons, and slid right up to the counter.

The man behind it was middle-aged and graying, his beard streaked with salt and pepper and his gut hanging over the waist of his jeans.

He raised an eyebrow at Danny. "You again," he grunted.

Danny flashed him a brilliant smirk. "Me again," he agreed. "Ed, this is my partner, Agent Parton. Agent Parton, meet Ed."

Jayne glared at the side of Danny's head, and then flashed Ed her badge. "Hi," she said shortly.

"Zebus," Ed whistled. "How many of you are going to flock in here, anyway? I got to warn you, not a whole lot goes on in this place."

"We'll be the judge of that," Jayne returned. "Ed, my partner tells me you own this bar. Is that right?"

Ed cocked his eyebrow again, looking at Danny. "She don't waste any time."

"Yeah," Danny smirked. "Forgive her. She's not trying to be rude; it just comes naturally."

Jayne shot Danny death eyes again, and then turned her hard gaze back on Ed. "You own this bar?" she asked again.

Ed nodded. "That I do."

"You're familiar with the recently deceased?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor Ted, he used to come in regular. Had a brawl every now and then. But nothing like the fight that killed John."

"John? You were familiar with him too?"

"Yeah, he was another regular. Usually steered clear of the brawlers. It was unexpected, to see Ted go after him like that. And then poor Ted, hanging himself in the tank…"

"So Ted tended to be angry?"

"Oh, sometimes. Nothing like that night though."

"Did they know one another?"

"Nope."

"And the man who killed himself the week before… Ross Parker. Did he know Ted or John?"

"Not really. Names and nods, but nothing close."

"I understand that Charles Grossman was a bartender of yours. The man who shot himself playing Roulette."

"Oh, yeah. Poor Charlie. He liked a dare, I'll admit, but that was unexpected. Went a little overboard there."

"Were either of these men familiar with your bartender Sasha Gordon?"

"Sasha? What about her?"

"Am I to understand you were unaware that your bartender was in a car accident early this morning?"

"No, no, I heard about that. My brother told me – he's sheriff, you know. Right shame, that was. She was a good worker. Beautiful to boot."

"So did Sasha know Ted? Did she know John?"

"Not particularly."

"What about Ross or Charlie?"

"Ross? Not that I know of. But Charlie… I'm pretty sure those two had something going on."

"Elaborate, please."

"Well, you know… they'd had a sleepover or two."

"Ah. Did that cause problems for you?"

"Me? Well… kind of. My assistant manager, Landon… he wasn't too happy about it."

"Why was that?"

"Well, he and Sasha used to date too. Then she broke it off, started seeing Charlie… it was a real mess, to tell you the truth."

"Was Landon friendly with any of the other men?"

"What? Well… I don't think so…"

"Where is Landon?"

"He don't work until late today. He's probably at home."

Jayne asked a few more questions, Ed answered them, and then Danny shook the man's hand. She walked back out into the parking lot, Danny on her heels.

"I love playing cop with you," Danny grinned, leaning into her side. "It's like good cop, bad cop – I'm the lovable fun guy, and you're the mean nasty businesslike one."

"Thanks."

"You always come off with that stern, no-nonsense crap… it's like you actually think you're a Fed."

She smirked at him. "Good cons sell their cover."

Danny laughed out loud. "Man, my Dad would bust a gut hearing you say that. Stealing words right out of his mouth."

Jayne just smiled. They ambled to Janis, parked across the lot, in silence.

"Hey," Danny said suddenly. "What were you all talking about, back at the motel?"

Jayne tensed. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Gibson. I know I act the fool, but I'm not that stupid. I saw the way you all hesitated to come out. What were you saying that I wasn't supposed to hear?"

"I wasn't saying a damn thing."

"Gibson…"

"You're paranoid."

"You're dodging."

She was.

It was a dilemma. Jayne couldn't tell Danny about Sam. It wasn't her secret to tell. And if she told him about Sam, she'd inevitably have to mention Stephen…

The Hannigans were old family friends, practically family themselves. Rufus had been a second father, Deedee had been another little sister, and Danny…

Well, she'd always had this special bond with Danny. They'd been friends as children. He'd always get her into trouble. And after she'd entered high school, their friendship had turned into something else.

Russ had trusted Rufus with his life and his children. Jayne wanted, desperately, to trust Danny and the rest of the Hannigans with this secret, to tell them what Stephen could do, how it was connected with everything that happened to her mother…

But he was Stephen. Her baby brother. She'd been watching that kid's back ever since her mother's death. And no matter how much she trusted Danny and Rufus and Deedee…

This was too much. It had to remain a secret.

She smirked at Danny. "Dean doesn't like you."

"And?"

"He thought we ought to know."

"I wasn't aware he'd been trying to keep it a secret."

"Neither was I. Anyway, he made it official."

Danny snorted.

"Sorry," she shrugged. "If it helps, you're not missing out on much. He's a flaming jackass."

Danny chuckled. "Yeah, well… he seems to like you well enough."

Jayne shrugged again. "Yeah, we're friends."

"You're friends with a flaming jackass?"

"We found common ground within our general dislike of other people."

Danny laughed.

She smirked at him.

"You know," Danny said. "I was perfectly aware that Winchester wasn't my biggest fan."

"Yeah? What tipped you off?"

"Well, there was all that drama at the bar last night."

Jayne snorted. "Oh, yeah. One of his jerkier moments."

"And then there's the fact that he threatened me."

Jayne stopped short. She frowned at her friend. "What?"

"Yeah, last night. He was the last to leave my motel room, remember?"

Jayne frowned harder. "What did he say?"

"Oh, you know… warning me not to let whatever ghoulie or ghostie we're hunting get under my skin. Play with my emotions, turn me homicidal angry… you know, like last time."

Jayne tightened her jaw. "That wasn't your fault. He should know that."

"Yeah, well…"

"Is that all he said?"

Danny chewed the inside of his mouth and shook his head. "He said…" Danny chuckled. "He said that if I so much as raised a hand in your direction, he'd rip me into so many pieces, they'd never find them all."

Jayne clenched her fists.

Danny chuckled. "Got to say, the guy rubs me the wrong way… but I'm always going to like him for that."

"What?" Jayne snapped. "Are you drunk?"

"No, Gibson, come on… you know me. You're my girl. I like to know someone's out there watching your back… threatening to kill people if they hurt you… it makes a guy feel all warm and gooey inside."

She punched him in the gut.

Danny winced and groaned, hunching over. "Uncool."

"Not your girl."

"Sure you are. Best friend."

"_I_ kill the people who hurt me. I don't need anyone else to do that."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Still… nothing wrong with knowing someone's got your back."

"He shouldn't be throwing his weight around with you! He shouldn't be… he makes me so…!"

"Cut him a break, huh? He's just trying to be your friend. And you don't make that an easy task."

"It's not too easy being his friend, either."

"I don't doubt that."

Silence.

Jayne looked at him. Danny was frowning, studying her face.

"What?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "I just… I don't know. Never mind."

He walked on ahead of her.

Jayne frowned at his back, and followed quietly behind.

* * *

Lynn was determined not to speak to her brother.

She'd slid into the passenger seat of the Superbird because it seemed like a disastrous idea for Stephen to ride with anyone else. Still, she wasn't going to talk to him.

He'd tried to sneak out on them – again. He'd been snapping and one-lining and throwing punches ever since she and Jayne had rolled into town, and she was furious.

The way he shrugged so casually and tossed those little quips out the side of his mouth… it stung. It cut her so deep, she didn't think she'd ever fully forgive him.

Didn't he understand how badly it hurt? Being ditched, being tossed aside, being so… inconsequential.

Stephen kept glancing at her out the corner of his eye as he drove towards the Gordon household, but he seemed unable to speak. That was fine with her. It was easier to give someone the silent treatment when they weren't talking either.

If he opened his mouth and dropped a line, she knew she'd never be able to keep to her resolution.

Stephen sighed harshly. "Look, I'm sorry," he said.

Lynn snorted. "Really? Are you?"

"You know I am."

"Do I?"

Another harsh sigh. "Lynn, come on. You know I do what I do for a reason."

"Oh, shut up," Lynn snapped. "Don't you dare sit there and tell me you keep abandoning me and Jayne for our own good. Damn you, Stephen, I don't buy it for a minute! You're not just a crappy little brother; you're also a lying son of a bitch!"

Silence. Lynn's chest heaved heavily up and down. She glared daggers at him.

Stephen chewed the inside of his cheek and kept his eyes on the road. "Well, don't stop now," he drawled. "You're on such a roll, Lynn. Keep going."

She shook her head, chuckling bitterly. "Don't act like I'm the bad guy."

"Don't act like I'm purposely trying to hurt you. You know it's not like that."

"Shut up!" Lynn shouted.

He flinched, ever so subtly.

She glared at the side of his head. "You know you're not telling the whole story," she said. "You can say it was about demons and psychic powers and protecting your family and blah, blah, blah, but let's get real. Maybe that was all a part of it, but the way I see it, that crap was really just a shallow, transparent excuse for you to abandon us."

He said nothing.

She shook her head. "You don't really care about us. If you did, you couldn't act like this. Shrugging your shoulders and smarting off whenever someone talks to you. We haven't seen you in months, Steve. You don't even call to tell us you're still alive."

"I can't, Lynn. You know I can't. They can trace…"

"Shut up! Seriously, shut up!"

Silence.

Lynn chuckled again. "You know, I always used to feel like odd man out growing up. You and I always got along, I know, but… you and Jayne. Whether you argued or not, you were always exactly the same. Little copies of Dad. Ironic, considering Jayne wasn't even his blood."

More silence.

"You two never wanted to talk," she pushed. "You'd smirk and make jokes and throw a punch or two, but you never talked. You'd pretend nothing could hurt you, you'd pick on me for caring and showing it… damn it, I always thought I was a freak. I could never play tough guy the way you two could."

He sighed again. "Lynn."

"I'm not finished!"

Silence.

"But now, I see I was wrong," she bit out. "You and Jayne are nothing alike. Jayne would never abandon me; she would never abandon you. She sticks by our family, no matter what."

She looked at him, hard, as though seeing him for the first time. "You've been trying to ditch us since you were old enough to drive."

Stephen's hands tensed on the wheel.

"This demon shit was just a convenient excuse to do it."

Stephen snorted. "Yeah. This demon shit has been real convenient."

"Admit it. A little part of you liked getting rid of us."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Lynn, can you blame me?"

The explosion practically rocked the car. Lynn glared at him, blinking her stinging eyes.

"You think it was easy, growing up the baby in a family as overprotective and stifling as ours?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, come on! This family is twisted! All my life, Dad was bossing me around, locking me in my room, dragging me wherever he damn well pleased… I never got to make a decision for myself! And then Jayne… well, she did the same damn thing. She carried on in his memory beautifully."

"They loved you!"

"They were controlling me! Everyone was! Dad, Jayne… when we were in Kentucky, even Rufus and Danny would be throwing their weight around!"

"So you run off in the middle of the night?"

"If I had given you a heads up, you would have found a way to stop me."

"Me? Are you really accusing _me_ of controlling you?"

"No… look, Lynn, you and I always understood one another. You supported me, you encouraged me to make my own decisions... you were more than a sister. You were pretty much my best friend."

Lynn blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. "So why did you leave me?"

"I had to!" he exclaimed. "You… you didn't mean to, Lynn, but… it was so smothering! They were controlling my life and you… sometimes you'd get so needy…"

"You bastard!"

"Oh, come on!" Stephen bellowed. "You know you were! Lynn… I needed to live for myself. I couldn't keep living for other people… for Dad, for Jayne, for you… for my mother…."

Lynn shook her head. "Ana…?"

"I never even knew her, Lynn. I wasn't even a year old when she died. If Dad hadn't had those pictures in his wallet… I wouldn't even know what she looked like."

Lynn stared out the windshield.

"I want to kill the son of a bitch who took her away," Stephen said. "I want to kill him; I want to kill all of his little flunkies who flat out refuse to let me lead an actual life… I want to go back to last year, when I wasn't starting fires with my brainwaves. But I can't be this little vengeance robot anymore, Lynn. I can't live my life trying to live up to Dad and all his expectations."

Silence.

"I can't believe you admitted it," Lynn breathed.

Stephen sighed again. "Lynn, come on. I may have needed to get away, but… this was really about the demons, about keeping you and Jayne safe… I was trying to protect you two the way you always protected me."

She shook her head again.

"Lynn, please…"

"Shut up," she snapped again. "Just shut up."

* * *

"You sure this is the place?"

Sam looked up from the papers in his hand. His brother had just parked the Impala at the curb in front of a rundown little ranch. He double checked the address on the mailbox.

"Yep," Sam said. "This is where Landon lives."

Dean sighed and shut down the engine. "Fantastic," he said. "Let's do this."

They marched up to the front door of the dilapidated home. Dean knocked on the door harder than necessary. "Landon Creevey!" he bellowed. "Open up!"

Silence.

Dean pounded on the door again. "Hey!" he shouted. "Landon Creevey!"

Nothing. He kept knocking.

"I can do this all day!"

Sam rolled his eyes, tempted to smack his brother in the head.

The door opened. On the other side of the threshold was a tall, skinny guy in his early twenties with light brown curls and sleepy looking eyes.

He yawned, scratching his hair. "Can I help you?"

"Mr. Creevey?" Sam asked.

Landon nodded. "Uh-huh."

"We're federal agents Walsh and Squier," Dean said. "We'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's all right."

He frowned. "Feds? What did I do?"

Dean smirked. "Well, that's yet to be determined. Mind if we come in?"

"Uh… sure…"

Dean pushed his way inside. Landon blinked, still looking sleepy. Sam gave him an apologetic smile and slid inside after his brother.

When they were all seated in the cramped living room, littered with empty pizza boxes and dirty laundry, Sam folded his hands and leaned forward to address the half-asleep kid in front of him.

"Were you acquainted with a woman named Sasha Gordon?"

Suddenly, Landon was wide awake. "Sasha?" he asked. "What happened to Sasha?"

"So you're acquainted, then," Dean remarked dryly.

Sam sent Dean a scolding look.

"Well, yeah," Landon returned. "She's my girlfriend."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Girlfriend? Really? I was under the impression that you two no longer dated."

Landon frowned. "Well… yeah… technically she's my _ex _girlfriend… um, what is this about?"

Sam exchanged a look with Dean. "Miss Gordon crashed her car early this morning, Mr. Creevey. She didn't survive."

Landon blinked. He sank back against the couch cushions.

"We're very sorry for your loss," Sam said.

Landon stared at the wall.

Dean leaned into Sam's ear. "Awkward," he cracked.

Sam glared at him.

Dean cleared his throat and straightened up. "Mr. Creevey, we at the Bureau can't help but notice that, uh… well, a lot of people seem to die around you."

Landon blinked at him.

"Miss Gordon… your coworker, Charlie Grossman… three regulars from the bar you manage…"

"What are you trying to say?" Landon demanded.

Dean glanced at Sam. Sam leaned forward.

"We're beginning to think all those deaths weren't accidental."

Landon stared. "Uh… are you saying what I think you're saying…?"

"Your girlfriend breaks up with you… she leaves you for Charlie… then they both die?" Dean said. "Looks kind of suspicious."

"I would never hurt Sasha!" Landon snapped. "I loved her, ok? Besides, you said she crashed her car! How could I be responsible for that?"

"I don't know," Dean returned. "You tell me."

Landon stood up. "I didn't kill anybody," he said. "I'd like you to leave."

Sam looked at Dean. Dean shrugged.

"Thank you for your time," Sam said.

He and Dean stood, crossed the living room, and headed out the door. It wasn't until they were halfway across the front yard that Sam turned to Dean and asked, "You think he's sincere?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know… I mean, the kid looks hung-over as hell, Sam. Like some doped up college dropout – not exactly serial murderer material."

Sam sighed. "Yeah."

"You think it's him?"

"I don't know."

They got in the car and Dean started her up. "What do you want to do?" he asked.

Sam chewed on his knuckles. "I say we go to the bar tonight," he said. "Check the place out for real this time. Ask around, watch for suspicious looking characters…"

"Keep an eye on Creevey," Dean finished. "I'm with you."

Sam wasn't sure if they were barking up the right tree or not. In all honesty, now that he'd had that vision, he wasn't sure what to expect. He wasn't sure the bar would turn up any leads or not.

If he was being perfectly honest, he was waiting for another vision.

He was hoping whatever gave him those dreams was going to give him another one… and that this time he was going to get some answers.

And he wasn't going to tell Dean any of that. He knew his visions bothered his brother – understandably so. They bothered Sam too.

But if they could help them to get to the bottom of this mess, he was willing to give the whole psychic thing a shot.

Dean would not be so willing.

Sam was keeping his mouth shut.

* * *

The motel room door swung open. Jayne looked up from the papers spread out on the table as her stepsister walked into the room. Stephen followed behind her.

"Hey," she offered.

She received two noncommittal grunts for her trouble. Jayne glanced at Danny, sitting beside her at the small table. He raised an eyebrow.

"Everybody have fun?" he drawled.

Stephen flicked him off.

"Shut up, Danny," Lynn returned.

Danny smirked in Jayne's direction. She raised her eyebrows at him, and immediately turned to the hunt at hand.

"The bar owner said that Sasha and Charlie the Russian roulette failure were dating," Jayne announced. "But that was the only connection we could find. The other three victims don't seem to fit. Did you two get anything useful out of the Gordons?"

"Nada," Stephen replied, flopping on one of the beds.

"Nothing at all?"

Lynn sighed, taking a seat on the other bed. "Sasha dated Landon. Sasha broke up with Landon. Sasha dated Charlie. No one knows any Ross, Ted or John."

Danny snorted. "Well, then we obviously missed something."

"Or there is no connection," Jayne sighed. "And we just made a job out of nothing."

"No way," Danny retorted. "I'm telling you, something is off here."

"Yeah," Jayne agreed. "Something is. But we aren't any closer to figuring out what than we were yesterday."

Danny shrugged. "If it's a demon or a ghost, maybe there doesn't need to be a connection. It's enough that the victims were at the bar. The bar's this thing's place, you know?"

"Maybe."

There was a knock on the door.

Lynn got to her feet and dragged herself across the room. Jayne watched with narrowed eyes as she let the Winchesters inside.

Something had happened and Lynn and Stephen weren't talking about it. She'd bet her truck they'd had a showdown on the ride either to or from the Gordon household. Whatever words had been exchanged couldn't have been pretty.

"Please tell me you two got something at the ex-boyfriend's place," Lynn said.

"Sorry," Dean said, brushing past her and heading for the opposite wall.

"We got nowhere," Sam elaborated. "For the record, Landon looked more like a hung-over college kid than a serial killer."

"Doesn't mean anything," Stephen remarked.

"I know," Sam agreed. "Dean and I decided that we should all head over to the bar tonight and check the place out. They'll be more people at night so we can ask more questions. And if Landon really does have something to do with this, we can keep an eye on him."

"Why are we so convinced this kid's got something to do with it?" Danny demanded.

Sam looked at him. "We're not."

"Right. Can't say anything for sure. Got that. What I want to know is why we're even considering this kid as a suspect."

Jayne felt her stomach flop. The reason they were considering Landon a suspect was Sam… and Sam was considering the kid a suspect because of his vision. They couldn't tell Danny that… well, she supposed they could. Still…

"Phone records," Sam said. "We checked the phone records. Landon made a call to Sasha's cell phone seconds before she died."

Danny looked appeased. Silently, Jayne breathed her relief.

"I take it nobody else found anything either?" Sam asked.

"Nope," Lynn sighed.

"All right," Dean spoke up. "I say we all split, do our own thing… meet at the bar tonight."

"Sounds good," Danny agreed. He got up, sliding the papers on the table towards Jayne. "Catch you later, Gibson."

He was out the door before she could blink. Seconds later, she heard the familiar rumble of the Harley out in the parking lot.

"Where the hell is he going?" she grumbled.

"I'll be in my room," Stephen announced, already halfway out the door. Before she could decide to stop him, he was gone.

She listened, but the Bird did not start up in the parking lot. She breathed another quiet sigh of relief, realizing she'd half expected him to take off.

She owed that kid another punch in the face.

"I'm hungry," Lynn spoke suddenly. "There's a diner up the street. I'm going to get some food. Anybody coming?"

"I will," Sam volunteered.

"Anyone else?"

Jayne shook her head in the negative. Dean grunted something resembling no.

"You want me to bring something back?" Lynn asked Jayne.

Jayne shrugged. "Sure."

Lynn headed out, Sam on her heels. The door shut behind them, and she was left alone with Dean.

Silence descended. The room was still for seconds that felt like eons. Jayne refused to look in Dean's direction.

He stared at her until she got uncomfortable and looked up. "What?" she snapped.

"Nothing," he snapped back, looking away.

Silence.

Dean cleared his throat. She glared at him.

"I don't want to talk about this," he announced.

"I don't remember saying I did," she retorted.

"Good," he said. "So… we good here?"

Jayne snorted. "No."

He sighed harshly.

"Do me a favor," Jayne sniped. "Stop getting into my business."

Dean pushed himself off the wall, his anger growing. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Like you don't know."

"Sorry, Goldilocks. I got nothing. Looks like you'll have to elaborate."

"Don't call me that!"

Silence again. Dean blinked, looking surprised. Jayne felt the teensiest pang of regret – which she quickly ignored.

"You threatened Danny," she accused.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Is that all?"

"Where the hell do you get off threatening my oldest friend?" she demanded, furious as his flippancy.

"Your oldest friend is a grade A douche."

"You're a douche."

"At least I'm not a ginger douche."

"You don't get to threaten people for me!" she shouted, jumping angrily to her feet. The chair fell over with a _bang!_

"I'll do whatever the hell I want!" Dean shouted back.

"No you will not! Not where I'm concerned! I don't know who the hell you think you are, or why the hell you think you need to throw your weight around, but you're wrong! I don't need your help, and you're being a dick!"

"You are such a bitch!" he snapped. "What the hell is your problem, huh? Every time I do something for you, you freak out!"

"You call this doing something for me?"

"I don't know what else you'd call it!"

"I call it sticking your giant nose where it doesn't belong!"

"Hey! My nose is adorable."

"Shut up!" she bellowed. "Damn you, Dean, why can't you just leave me alone?"

Silence.

Dean shrugged. "You know, that's a damn good question."

Jayne blinked.

"I mean, it's not like I'm really helping myself doing you any favors," he bit out. "All I get is smacked and slugged and screamed at. So it's a good question. Why the hell do I bother?"

This was getting dangerous.

"I don't know," she said, quieter now. "Why _do_ you bother?"

He shrugged again. "Honestly? Right now? I can't think of a good reason."

_So_ dangerous.

She swallowed. "Well," she told him, looking him straight in the eye. "Maybe you should stop."

Even as the words left her lips, she knew she shouldn't have said them.

He smirked. "Yeah," he agreed. "You know, maybe I should."

Silence. The longest silence ever. He stared at her, and she stared at him.

"Well?" she said finally. "Are you just going to stand there all day, or are you going to get the hell out of my room?"

He blinked at her. His lips curled up in that mean little smirk again. "Oh, trust me," he said. "I am definitely getting the hell out."

She watched him storm across the room and fling open the door. She flinched when it slammed behind him.

She knew she had no one to blame but herself.

* * *

Lynn leaned against the large window by the takeout counter, staring at the textured plaster of the diner ceiling.

Sam leaned next to her, his eyes aimed at the black and white linoleum floor.

They were both silent, but the diner wasn't. Plates clattered in the kitchen. The overhead speaker played Celine Dion.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tapped her fingers on the window, trying to pretend she was somewhere else.

"I hate this song," she announced.

Sam looked up at her voice. She smiled at him.

He smiled back. "I don't even know this song."

"Lucky you."

Silence.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked.

Lynn was startled by the question. "Yeah," she said. "Fine."

"Really?" Sam asked. "Because it seems like the more upset you are, the worse your driving gets… and you nearly took out a Dodge Neon and an old man riding a bicycle on the way here."

She glared at him. "I thought my driving was always bad."

"Oh, it is," he assured her. "But… today it was worse."

She glared some more. He smiled.

Lynn sighed and leaned against the window again. "My brother and I… we had a little disagreement."

"Oh."

Silence.

"You want to talk about what happened?" Sam asked.

She sighed again. "I don't know… maybe you won't get it."

He frowned. "Sorry?"

"Oh, Sam, I didn't mean… look, it was a family thing. I accused him of leaving us all the time because he wants to, not because he's trying to keep us safe, and then he went on and on about… well, about our dad and Jayne and… all of us, really. He said they were controlling and I was… needy. I just…"

Silence.

"You just what?" Sam asked.

"I think I'm losing my little brother. You know… figuratively, of course. In the literal, physical sense of the word, I've already lost him like ten times."

Silence.

"And… you think I wouldn't get that because I ditched my family. I'm Stephen in this equation."

Lynn looked up in panic. "Sam, no! No, I… well, maybe."

He laughed slightly, shaking his head. His eyes returned to the floor. "Great," he said.

Silence.

"Sam," she spoke up. "Sam… it's not like that."

"Then what's it like?"

"It's just… I don't know. I'm afraid he might be right."

Sam looked at her. She stared back, afraid she looked desperate, but unable to look away. "Tell me," she said. "Is he right? Is he… do you regret it? Do you think you shouldn't have left?"

Silence. They stared at one another.

"Sometimes," he said, in a tiny voice. "Sometimes, yeah. I think I shouldn't have left."

Then he looked away and shook his head again. "But most of the time? No, Lynn. I don't regret it. I regret the way I did it, but I don't regret leaving. Leaving was something I had to do."

Silence.

"I don't understand," Lynn said suddenly.

He stared.

"I don't understand," she repeated. "When I was growing up, all I wanted to do was get away from my freak family. And then, when the time came… I couldn't do it. I… just realized, you know? I realized I didn't really want to leave. I wanted to stay. I needed to stay."

Silence.

"Why did I need to stay?" she asked. "And why did you and Steve need to go?"

Sam hesitated.

"Maybe you didn't need to stay," he suggested. "Maybe you needed to go too. Maybe all of us, at some point, need to go."

Lynn stared at him.

"That doesn't make any sense," she told him.

He laughed.

"Maybe someday it will," he said. "Honestly Lynn, I don't get it either. When you told me that story, about college and how you decided not to go… I didn't get that. I still don't. I would have left. I kind of can't believe you didn't."

"You can't?"

He shrugged, refusing eye contact. She stared at him for several seconds.

"Order up!"

The cry from the kitchen startled her. She tore her eyes from Sam and looked at the takeout counter. Moments later, she had their takeout bag in hand and was trying to fish the keys to Jayne's truck out of her purse. Sam slid the drink holder off the counter and clutched the coffees as she fumbled about.

"Ow."

Lynn frowned at Sam's voice, looking up at him. He was making a strange face. "Sam?" she asked.

He groaned, staggering back against the counter.

"Sam?" she exclaimed.

"Is he all right?" the diner's hostess asked.

The drink holder slipped from Sam's hands and tumbled to the floor. Coffee splashed all over the black and white tiles. One hand gripped the counter and the other held his head.

Lynn thrust the takeout bag onto the countertop and grabbed Sam's arm. He stumbled as she dragged him to the chairs by the entrance. She faltered as he slumped heavily on her shoulder, but managed to get him in a chair before his legs quit working entirely.

"Sam?" she demanded. "Sam! Are you all right?"

He groaned, rubbing his head.

Lynn bit her lip fretfully, her hands cupping his face. "Sam?"

He leaned back heavily in the chair. Lynn glanced around her at all the staring faces in the diner, silently cussing as Sam went limp.

He was having another vision – in the daytime. The last time this had happened, they'd all been in Michigan and there had been another psychic in town.

Things hadn't exactly ended well in Michigan.

* * *

"You can't smoke that in here, sir…"

"Back off, kid. I can break your skinny hide in half."

The voice were garbled and muffled by heavy rock music and the noise of an intoxicated crowd. Everything was dim. Red lights flashed across the confused, cramped room. There was a jukebox in the corner. People were yelling, but the words were hard to make out in the all the commotion.

_Thump!_

A tall man, round-bellied and wearing leather, clocked a skinnier, younger man in the face, and he tumbled to the floor.

Another man, even older, with a scraggly white beard, punched the leather-clad man in the mouth.

Fists were flying… people yelling…

There was no seeing who threw what fist, or hearing who was yelling what. Heads were turning, people were ducking, and the doorway was choked with patrons. A man ducked down into a dimly lit booth and snorted, heavily, his face parallel with the tabletop.

A woman screamed…

_Bang!_

A shot rang out. A body tumbled to the floor

_Thud!_

More screaming. Feet thudding along the floor.

_Crash!_

_Bang!_

Everyone was shouting and running and tripping. There was no place to go, no way out… nothing but confusion and smoke and red light…

A skinny young man got to his feet and glared at the panicking crowd, his hands fisting in his curly hair.

_Scree!_

Sam Winchester woke up.


	50. Wreck Me

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to krenee321, anonymous 1, angeleyenc, Lov3good, wizziewoo123, hornblowerarchiekennedyfan, xXxKaraBeckerCutterxXx, BlueEyedPisces, tiaracove, AshlynPaige92, AwkwardxCaterpillar, damon-attic14, anonymous 2, Sexxi Bexxie xx, ColtFan165, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, Leila, and Penelope Halliwell for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 50: Wreck Me

Sam started awake, sitting up straight in the hard vinyl chair. Rubbing his head and blinking at the diner around him, he took in bleary shapes that looked like people, and soon enough he saw the curious looks from restaurant patrons and wait staff, all staring at him. His eyes landed on Lynn, who was hovering over him with her hands on his shoulders, concern in her big brown eyes.

"Sam?" she asked. "Are you ok?"

He nodded, leaning forward. There was a busboy mopping coffee off the floor directly behind Lynn. Sam made eye contact with the kid, who quickly averted his gaze and focused on the spill.

"Did you see something?" Lynn murmured.

"Uh…" he swallowed and nodded. "Uh… yeah."

"Is everything ok?" the hostess asked, coming over to stand by Lynn. "Should I be calling someone?"

"No," Sam said immediately. "No, thank you. I'm fine… I just get these dizzy spells. I'm really sorry about the mess."

"Don't worry about it," the older woman said seriously. Sam heard her crack her gum. "Are you sure you're all right, sweetie?"

He forced a smile and nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

Lynn snatched the takeout off the counter and forced the bag into her purse. The waitress behind the counter handed her replacement coffee, which she balanced in one hand. Then she marched back over to the chair by the door, grabbed Sam by the arm and hauled him out of his seat.

He stumbled, but she provided him with much needed support. Lynn thanked everyone one last time and then shouldered him out the door and into the parking lot.

In his head, he likened her to an ant; so small yet surprisingly strong – able to carry three times her body weight. Before he was even fully alert, she had him situated in the cab of the truck and was forcing the drink holder with their coffee into his lap.

He took hold of the sides, less to steady the drinks and more to steady himself. She slammed the door and then ran over to the other side of the truck. Sam watched as she hopped up into the cab and slammed her door too.

"What happened?" she demanded as she started the engine. "Where are we going?"

"I'm not sure…" Sam replied, fidgeting in his seat. He hated riding in Jayne's old truck with Lynn behind the wheel. His long legs were once again crammed uncomfortably between the bench seat and the glove compartment.

It wasn't so bad when Jayne was driving, but Jayne was tall. Lynn on the other hand…

"What do you mean you're not sure?"

"I think we better just head back to the motel."

She swung the truck violently out of the parking lot, cutting off oncoming traffic. Sam clung to the drink holder, trying to prevent another spill.

"Lynn! What the hell?"

"What did you see?" she demanded.

He sighed, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes. "I'm not sure… it looked like the bar."

"The bar?"

"Yeah. There was this kid and this guy… they were arguing. The place was really crowded and it was really dark… I think it was nighttime."

"Like tonight nighttime?"

"Maybe."

"What happened?"

"That's the thing… I'm not really sure."

"What?"

"Well… it was really confusing and disjointed… the two guys arguing starting trading punches, but then… it was like the whole bar started fighting."

"The whole bar started fighting?"

"I think there were gunshots."

"_Gunshots?_"

"And… I don't know… people were running for the door and no one could get out… it was like a riot."

"_A riot?_"

Sam sighed. "Can you please stop repeating everything I say?"

She gave him a half smile. "Sorry."

"Something bad is going to happen at that bar," Sam murmured. "And I think it's going to happen tonight."

Silence.

"Ok," Lynn said. "Did you recognize anybody?"

Sam shook his head. "It was dark and smoky and… well… everything was happening so fast."

She nodded patiently. "Ok. Close your eyes. Try to think. See if you can remember anything else… anything important."

Sam closed his eyes. "Everyone looked the same. One guy was this old biker… he had all this leather on…"

"Right," Lynn encouraged him. "Anyone else?"

"This guy… he was our age… he had curly hair and… and… holy crap."

"What?"

"I'm not sure, but… but…"

"But what?"

"I think it was Landon Creevey."

Lynn spared a glance at him. Sam opened his eyes and stared out the windshield.

"Ok," she murmured. "We've got to get to that bar."

"Lynn."

"Yeah?"

"I had a vision in the day. While I was awake."

"Yeah, I know Sam. I was there. An entire diner was there. There was coffee all over the floor."

"I just mean… the last time that happened…"

"There was another psychic in town," Lynn finished. "Right. I know."

He took a deep breath. "Do you think that means something?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know… the presence of someone… someone else like me… maybe it makes the visions stronger."

Lynn said nothing.

Sam shook his head and leaned against the door. "I mean… I don't know, Lynn. What if these weird deaths… what if it's another psychic? What if…?"

"Hey," she interrupted. "You're forgetting about my brother. He's here too. Maybe he's the reason the visions are getting stronger."

Sam thought about that for a moment. In a small way, it brought him some relief. If his theory was right – if being around other people connected to the demon really did increase the power of his visions – well, then maybe Landon wasn't necessarily one of those people. After all, Stephen Juarez was like him too. Stephen Juarez had weird powers and a mother who died on his six month birthday at the hands of some nasty mega-demon. Stephen could be the reason he was having visions in the day.

Still, if all his theories were correct, then having visions at all implied that whatever was happening in Mineral Wells was the result of that same mega-demon. Maybe it was like the case at the Hannigans' pub. Maybe there were demons infesting the floorboards of that dive bar. Maybe it wasn't the work of another psychic.

He'd hate all this to be the work of another psychic. Seeing what Max Miller had turned into… if this Landon kid was going to turn into something similar…

Well, then where was the hope for Sam? Where was the hope for Lynn's brother? Were they all doomed to become something wicked and power-hungry?

He stared silently out the windshield, his stomach turning over and over with the fear.

Lynn glanced at him again. "You look like you want to throw up," she announced.

"I'll be ok."

"Just tell me what's up already."

He sighed.

"Sam…"

"What if Landon's… what if he's like me?"

Lynn blinked. "What do you mean?"

"What if he's… you know. Another psychic. Like me, like your brother… the demon killed his mother and now he has the power to control people's emotions. What if he's one of us, Lynn? What if he's one of us… and just like Max, he's been… I don't know. Corrupted somehow."

Silence.

Lynn was chewing the inside of her mouth. Sam stared at her, desperately, waiting for her to make it better.

"Lynn," he pleaded. "Lynn… what if we all… what if I…?"

"Shut up," she snapped.

He blinked, surprised.

Lynn glowered at the road ahead of them. "You are not going dark side, Sam Winchester. Not you and not my brother. You quit that kind of thinking right now."

He looked at the floor of the cab and sighed. "But if Max and Landon…"

"We don't even know Landon is behind this," Lynn pointed out. "And if he is… well… so what? So two of you guys – you psychics – so two of you went a little crazy. What's that mean, really? Power can corrupt people who can't handle it, Sam, but it doesn't corrupt everybody. I mean, who really knows how many of you are out there? Two out of god knows how many? It's not exactly a determining statistic, Sam. It doesn't necessarily mean anything."

She was babbling. Sam leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes again.

"But it's something to worry about," he murmured.

"No, Sam."

"Yes. It is. It is something to worry about, and you're worried about it. I can hear it in your voice."

Silence.

"We don't know even know if it's two out of god knows how many," Lynn murmured. "Landon might not be a psychic. He might have little or nothing to do with all this crap. It might still be _one_ out of… out of…"

"God knows how many?" Sam supplied.

She fell silent.

"Look, Lynn," he said. "I know you're trying to help, but if this is a possibility… if I could end up like Max… we need to know that. We need to face that."

More silence.

"Come on, Lynn. You of all people should know that."

"Why?" she snapped. "Because I might have had a crazy evil hoodoo witch for a mother?"

Sam was silent for a long time.

"Exactly," he finally whispered.

Lynn's breath hitched.

Sam rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm just… a little freaked out."

"Everything's going to be fine," she told him.

"You don't know that."

"Of course I don't know that," she snapped. "I'm just trying to make you feel better. You don't make it easy, for the record."

He snorted. "You don't make anything easy."

Silence.

"OK," she mumbled. "Fair enough."

"Lynn," Sam said. "You're the only one who doesn't bullshit me. Please don't start."

"Are you kidding me?" she retorted. "I bullshit you all the time."

"No you don't."

"Sure I do. Remember? All the mixed signals and the kissing and the sex and the storming away…"

"But never about the big stuff," Sam interrupted. "Never about my visions, never about the demon. When I need to talk about that stuff, you're there. You listen, and you talk back. You try to discuss it; you try to say something useful. Dean won't do that and my dad won't do that. Only you do that and I need you to keep doing it. Please don't stop now."

More silence.

"Ok," she breathed. "No bullshit. I promise."

"Thank you."

And then, because there really wasn't anything to say that wasn't bullshit, the two of them didn't speak all the way back to the motel.

* * *

_Bang!_

Jayne jumped about six inches off her chair as the door to her motel room swung open and slammed into the wall.

"Jaynie!" her stepsister shouted, flying over the threshold. "Jaynie?"

"What?" Jayne snapped, letting her notes fall back on the tabletop and getting to her feet.

Lynn heaved a sigh of relief. "Good," she said. "You're here."

Suddenly, Sam rushed inside the room, knocking into Lynn's shoulder. Jayne frowned. "Are they here?" he demanded.

"Jayne is," Lynn returned.

"What the hell is going on?" Jayne demanded.

"Where's Dean?" Sam wanted to know.

Jayne shrugged. "Don't know, don't care."

Silence. Sam and Lynn exchanged annoyingly knowing looks.

"You go track down Dean," Lynn said. "I'll fill Jayne and Steve in."

Sam nodded. "OK. Meet back here?"

"Deal."

He ran out the door again.

"Well?" Jayne asked, irritated. "Fill me in on what?"

"We left you and Dean alone for like twenty minutes," Lynn grumbled. "How the hell did you two wind up fighting already?"

"I don't remember saying we fought."

"You didn't have to," Lynn returned. "It's painfully obvious."

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Was there something important you needed to tell me, or did you just plan on standing around and doing girl talk?"

Lynn sighed. "Come on. I want to find Steve first, so I only have to go over this once."

"Whatever."

They headed out. Jayne slammed the door behind them. Lynn rolled her eyes and marched on ahead of her.

When they reached Stephen's door, Lynn whaled on the thing like a madwoman. "Stephen!" she bellowed. "Open the damn door!"

There was a brief silence. Then the door opened and Stephen appeared in his jeans and a wife beater, yawning and scratching the back of his shaven head. "Can't a man catch a few minutes sleep around here?" he groused. "What the hell is so goddamn important?"

Lynn didn't answer. She just shoved him aside and stomped into the room. Jayne blinked at her stepsister's surliness. Clearly, whatever had gone down between Steve and Lynn had been a seriously big deal, or Lynn would have gotten over it already.

She followed her sister in. Steve shut the door and flopped back down on his bed. "Well?" he demanded.

"Sam had another vision," Lynn announced.

Jayne leaned up against the wall, folding her arms over her chest. "Another one?"

Lynn nodded. "He said it was hard to make out exactly what was going on…"

"Ooh, how convenient," Stephen drawled.

"Shut up," Lynn snapped. "No one asked for your commentary."

Stephen fell silent, still looking ornery.

"He couldn't make out a lot," Lynn went on. "But he thinks it was tonight, and it was in the bar next door, and he said there's going to be a riot, complete with gunfire."

Stephen whistled. "I thought he couldn't make out a lot."

"I swear," Lynn growled, leveling a finger in his direction. "If you don't drop the cavalier attitude, I am going to rip you a new asshole."

"Hold up," Jayne said, pushing herself off the wall. "There's going to be a riot next door?"

Lynn nodded, taking a deep breath and exhaling shakily. "Yeah."

"Well… we have a plan?"

Lynn shook her head, shrugging. "Just… head over there like we were planning on and… I don't know."

Stephen laughed harshly. "Oh, great. Yeah, let's all run headlong into the middle of a riot and then, uh… wing it. Great plan. Absolute genius."

Lynn turned on him, wearing a death glower. She hefted one of Stephen's books off the nearby table and flung it at his head.

Stephen ducked just in time. The book bounced off the wall and toppled to the floor. "What the hell?" he bellowed.

"Enough!" she shouted at him. "If you can't say anything useful, then shut your snarky little mouth!"

Silence.

After a few moments of Lynn and Stephen glowering at one another without speaking a word, Jayne cleared her throat and moved deeper into the room.

"All right," she said. "What the hell is going on with you two?"

"Nothing," Stephen snapped.

Lynn didn't reply.

"Bull shit," Jayne retorted. "On the rare occasion that you, Steve, stick around to talk at all, it's you and Lynn who are getting along like bread and butter. You and I will fight, and then you and Lynn will gang up on me. That's always been this group's dynamic. Now tell me; what the hell happened?"

Stephen shrugged.

Lynn glared at him. "You want to know what happened?" she asked her sister.

"Clearly," Jayne bit out.

"Our little brother doesn't ditch us to keep us safe – not really. It's just a convenient excuse for him to get away from our stifling, smothering, controlling family. See, you boss him around too much, and I'm just a little too needy."

Silence.

Jayne swallowed. She kept her cool. "Right," she said slowly. "So… where is that coming from?"

"From his sarcastic mouth," Lynn returned. "That's what he said in the car this morning. You and Dad controlled him, and I smothered him. He needed to get away from us."

Jayne took another steadying breath and looked at her brother. "Steve? You want to weigh in on this?"

He shrugged again. "Why bother? Sounds like Lynn has it all figured out."

Again, silence.

Jayne sighed. "Steve... Maybe you ought to drop the attitude, huh?"

He snorted.

"I'm serious," she snarled. "This is getting ridiculous. _You_ left _us_, not the other way around. Remember, Steve? We had a plan. We had backup. We were actually going to do something about this demon crap. And then you bailed on us in the middle of the night. Like you usually do."

Stephen crossed his arms and looked determinedly at the dark green fluff-less carpet.

Jayne shook her head. "I mean… you can't blame us for wondering. You can't blame us for thinking that maybe this has less to do with demons and more to do with us."

Still, he said nothing.

"Typical," Lynn snorted. "When it's just you and me in that car, you have no problem telling me off. Complaining about our twisted family and how we all did you wrong. Because I'm the nice sister, right? The one who doesn't boss you around? I'm just a little needy. So you can yell at me."

Regret shadowed Stephen's face. He sighed, sitting up off the bed. "Lynn," he whispered.

"But god forbid you scream at Jayne," Lynn pressed on. "When it's Jayne, you just sit there and say nothing."

Silence.

"Lynn," he murmured finally. "I'm sorry. I said I was sorry."

"It wasn't good enough."

He groaned, frustrated, and climbed off the bed. Jayne watched as he rubbed his face, pacing the motel room. "What do you two want from me?" he demanded. "Yeah, all right? This family is too much for me sometimes. Sometimes, I need to get away. But that doesn't mean I never want to be with you. It doesn't mean I don't love you. I split the way I do because I'm worried about you two. I'm worried about what I'll bring down on you. It's the reason I keep leaving. And when I say that… yeah, I would like a little independence… it's not the reason I leave, it's not… look, I don't get it. Why is that such a bad thing to want?"

Silence again.

"Maybe I'm wrong to keep running off like this," he admitted. "All right? Maybe I've been handling all this wrong. Ok? But… why is it so much to ask that I get some breathing room? Why can't I have that?"

Jayne glanced at Lynn. Her stepsister was staring at the floor.

"I love you two," he said. "I love you, Lynn. I didn't mean to put all that on you. And Jaynie… you know I love you, whether we get along or not. But I can't… I need to go it alone, every once and awhile. Ok?"

Long, painful silence ensued. Stephen looked from Jayne to Lynn, half hopeful and half sad. Lynn refused to look up from the floor.

Jayne sighed. "Ok."

Lynn's head snapped up. "_What?_"

"Ok," she repeated. "Look… if you need a little independence, if you want to hunt on your own… I'm not going to stand in your way. It actually kind of hurts to think that you thought I would."

Stephen shook his head. "Can you really blame me?"

"I don't know. Maybe not. But I wouldn't have stood in your way. It's just that… now? With these demons out for your blood? It seems like a damn stupid time for you to leave the nest."

Stephen looked at the wall.

"At any rate," Jayne pushed on. "I don't see why you have to vanish the way you do. Why you can't give us a heads up before you leave, why you can't call every once in a while, why you can't ever let us know where you are? It's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

Silence.

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Lynn asked incredulously.

"Oh, come on," he said, sounding snarky again. "It's all right for you two to stand here now and talk a big game, but let's not bullshit each other. If I had told you straight up what was going to go down all those months ago, we both know you'd have stopped me."

"I would have stopped you because two demons were trying to kill you!" Jayne exclaimed.

"Sure, that's what you would _say_. But we both know the truth. You would have stopped me because you didn't want me to go. Period. The demons would have just been a convenient excuse."

"Just like they were a convenient excuse for you to ditch us?" Jayne retorted. "Damn, Steve, aren't you just the pot who called the kettle black?"

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Whatever. It'd be best if we just dropped it. We all know we ain't going to agree."

Jayne glared at her brother. He kept shaking his head, staring at the floor, poking at the carpet with his toe.

She was so angry with him now. More so than she had been before. She didn't know how to fix this mess. She couldn't even think where to start. Not with Stephen, not with Dean…

"Fine," she growled.

Silence.

"Well, great!" Lynn exploded. "Just great!"

Both Jayne and Stephen frowned at her.

"That's typical," she carried on. "Good old Jayne and Steve. Just like always! Never talk about anything! Never even _try_ to come to an understanding! Just give up! Nothing changes, no one's happy, and you two just give up! That's what you're good at, after all! You both just shut down, and then you walk away!"

She stormed for the door. Jayne reached out and caught her arm. "Lynn…"

"No!" she screamed, tearing her arm from her sister's grasp. "No! This time, _I_ get to walk away!"

And then she did. She marched right out the door, slammed it behind her, and took off running across the parking lot.

Jayne turned to her brother, who was staring at the door, openmouthed. She stared at him until he looked at her.

Stephen shook his head again and averted his eyes. "Hey," he said. "Don't look at me."

"Why the hell not?" she rejoined. "It's not just my fault."

He chuckled bitterly. "All right then. Ok. Let's blame it all on me."

"You might as well just leave again," she pressed angrily. "We both know you're going to. What's keeping you?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, fine then. See you around."

She stormed out the door; slammed it shut. She stalked back towards her motel room, the wind stinging at her eyes.

Nothing was a surprise to her anymore. She ruined every relationship she touched. Her friendship with Dean, her relationship with Steve, with Lynn…

When she got back to the room, Lynn was inside, face down on her bed.

Jayne snuck in quietly and gently closed the door. She stared at her stepsister, forcing herself to open her mouth. All she managed was a sigh.

Lynn looked up. For a long time, they just stared at one another.

"I'm sorry," Jayne finally spoke.

Lynn didn't answer right away. She looked down at the carpet. "It's not just you," she murmured after a while, wiping her eyes. "It's him too."

"I know."

"Did you two talk?"

"I made it worse."

Lynn laughed once, but her heart wasn't in it. "Don't you always?"

Silence.

"Yes," Jayne replied, her voice tiny. "I suppose I do."

"You're not going to apologize to him, are you?"

"Probably not."

Lynn stared at her. She sat up all the way and dangled her legs over the side of the bed. "I figured," she sighed.

Jayne said nothing.

Lynn kept her eyes on the carpet for a few moments, and then offered Jayne a small, sad smile. "Oh, well," she shrugged. "He won't apologize either. I guess it doesn't matter. He doesn't want to make up. He wants to leave again."

Jayne just looked at her, still silent.

Lynn buried her face in her hands. Jayne watched her shoulders shake. She crossed the room and sat down on the bed beside her sister.

Lynn leaned her head against Jayne's shoulder. Awkwardly, Jayne patted her back.

In a way, it was comforting. At least, on the other side of every mess, there was the two of them. It didn't matter, Jayne told herself, who she had managed to alienate, and maybe it didn't even matter who was hurting Lynn, who was flinging Lynn's love back in her face… it didn't matter who left or, more often than not, who Jayne chased away… because in the end, neither she nor Lynn had any intention of leaving one another.

That was all they needed, she tried to convince herself. One another.

* * *

Dean took a heavy swig from his beer bottle and then slammed it down on the bar.

Neither the old bartender nor the local drunks looked up at the noise. Dean shook his head, tapping his fingers on the bottle as the next song started up on the jukebox.

_Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes-Benz? My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends…_

"Damn it," he growled, taking another heavy swig, finishing off the bottle.

_Worked hard all my life time, no help from my friends… Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes-Benz? Oh Lord, won't you buy me a color TV…_

Dean signaled to the bartender for another one. Then he rubbed his temples, hissing cuss words under his breath.

Who the hell had gone and put that damn Janis Joplin song on the jukebox?

The bartender plopped another beer in front of him and swept away his empty bottle. Dean gulped the beer down.

_I wait for delivery each day until three… Oh, Lord, won't you buy me a color TV? Oh Lord, won't you buy me a night on the town…_

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," he grumbled.

"Drinking in the daytime, I see."

He started slightly at his brother's voice. Sam appeared at the bar beside him, an eyebrow raised. Dean glared at him over his shoulder.

"It's five 'o'clock somewhere."

"Maybe," Sam retorted. "But here, it's not even three."

Dean shrugged. "Don't care."

He took another gulp.

Sam rolled his eyes and slid onto the stool beside him. "So… you have a fight with Jayne?"

"Nope."

"Are you lying right now?"

"No, I am not lying," Dean snapped. "What makes you think that, anyway?"

"Because it's two-thirty in the afternoon, and you're drinking beer and listening to Janis Joplin?"

Dean glared at the beer in his hand.

Sam sighed. "Look, we have a little bit of a problem."

"When do we _not_ have a problem?"

"I had another one."

Dean swallowed his beer too hard. Instantly, the bottle was back on the bar, and Dean was staring at his brother.

"What?" he demanded.

"I had a vision… at the diner."

"In broad daylight?"

"Yeah."

"Wide awake?"

"Clearly."

"Damn it," Dean grumbled again, taking a swig of beer.

Sam responded with yet another sigh. "Look, something bad is going to happen at this bar tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure… but I think there's going to be a riot."

"A _riot_?"

"Keep your voice down," Sam hissed.

Dean rolled his eyes, glancing around to make sure no one could hear them. Not one person in the bar was even looking in their direction. "What did you see?" he demanded, leaning in closer. "Who was there?"

"I don't know… bikers… locals… and… well, I can't be sure, but…"

Sam trailed off, wincing with hesitation. Dean finished the thought for him.

"Landon Creevey?"

Sam sighed – again. He glared at the counter, and then he nodded.

"Great," Dean muttered.

"I think we should still come here tonight," Sam said. "Feel the place out, look for Landon… and do what we can to stop this from going down."

Dean cracked his neck and then squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "I don't know…"

"Well, do you have a better idea?" Sam retorted. "Because if you don't, I'm not really seeing another option here."

Dean sighed harshly and glared at his beer bottle again.

Sam watched him expectantly.

"Fine," Dean said. "Guess we have to do it."

Silence.

"You better go meet back with everyone else," Dean announced. "Talk it over… don't tell Danny."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean…"

"I mean it. I don't want that guy knowing what you can do."

"Fine."

More silence.

"Dean?" Sam asked. "Are you coming?"

"In a bit."

"You're really going to sit here alone? Drinking? At two-thirty in the afternoon?"

"Why not?" Dean returned. "I might die in a riot tonight."

Sam pursed his lips and gave his brother a disapproving glare.

Dean rolled his eyes and drained his beer. He made no move to get up.

"All right," Sam said, standing. "But for the record? This totally proves you and Jayne had a fight."

Then he walked out of the bar.

Dean ordered a third beer and glowered at the countertop. Thankfully, the jukebox was no longer playing Janis Joplin.

He groaned. When his beer came, he took a heavy gulp.

He really wished he wasn't sitting in this bar and… well… moping.

But it was too late for that. It was too late for a lot of things. He'd completely blitzed the best friendship in his life, and there didn't seem to be any way of going back.

So he kept his seat at the bar and he drank down that third beer.

* * *

The first thing Lynn noticed when she stepped out of her motel room was that her brother's Superbird was not in the parking lot.

It didn't surprise her. From the look on her stepsister's face, it didn't surprise Jayne either.

"Sam said we should just meet him at the bar?" Jayne asked.

Lynn swallowed and nodded. "Yeah."

"Cool."

She watched Jayne head off down the row of doors, resenting her for ignoring the missing car, for not talking about their brother, even though she had to know that Lynn wanted – no, needed to talk about him.

She took a deep breath and followed her sister.

Jayne stopped outside Danny's door and knocked on it. Lynn leaned against the wall, waiting for him to answer.

The door swung open. "Aw," Danny grinned. "You two came to get me? How sweet."

"You ready to go?" Jayne asked. "Or do you need time to touch up your makeup or something?"

"Shut up, Gibson. Where is everybody?"

"Sam and Dean are meeting us there."

"The brat?"

"Gone."

Silence. Lynn stared at the parking space where her brother's car used to be.

"Well, all right then," Danny said, glossing over the awkwardness. He reached into the room, grabbed his coat, and then stepped outside and shut the door. "Let's do this."

They headed to the bar.

On the other side of the threshold, the bar was starting to fill up and the jukebox was blasting Skynyrd. Dean and Sam were seated at a table by the front, both nursing a beer.

Danny snorted. "Should we imbibe?" he winked at Jayne. "Or should we be professionals?"

Jayne shrugged. "Your call, Hannigan."

"Well, I for one," Lynn spoke up. "Am going to imbibe."

She felt Jayne and Danny's eyes on her back as she brushed past them and headed for the counter.

She got waited on quickly and was already halfway through her PBR by the time she reached Sam and Dean's table. Jayne and Danny remained behind at the bar.

"Where's your brother?" Dean asked as Lynn slid into the chair across from him.

She shrugged. "Halfway to Tijuana?"

Sam turned big puppy eyes on her. "He left?"

"Well, his car's gone," Lynn returned. "So, yeah. I'm guessing he left."

Sam stared at her some more. "What happened?"

"What always happens," she replied. "I'd really prefer not to talk about it."

"Fine by me," Dean returned, cocky and apathetic, taking another swig from his drink.

Sam glared at him, and then gave her a reassuring smile.

She forced a small grin for him, and returned to her beer.

"Is Landon on duty?" she asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. He's been running around behind the bar and into the backroom."

"Goody," she murmured. "So… any potential signs of rioting?"

"Nope," Dean replied.

Sam was looking all around the bar, his knuckles white where he clenched his beer bottle. He shook his head, his tongue in his cheek.

"It's not crowded enough," he said. "In my vision, this place was packed wall to wall."

"Yeah, well, that's because it's only eight," Lynn informed him. "The party don't start until at least ten."

She gave him a tiny smirk and a wink. Sam was not soothed by the joking gesture.

"The more crowded it gets, the harder it'll be to get everyone out," he murmured.

"I still say we just pull the fire alarm," Dean said.

Sam shook his head. "No. If we pull it now, the bar will be back in business in another hour. And if we wait until later to pull it, after the bar gets more crowded… then _we'll_ be the ones starting the riot."

"All right then," Dean returned. "Maybe we should start a real fire."

Sam glared at him. "Dude! We are not burning down some poor old man's business!"

"Why not?"

"Do I really need to answer that question?"

Dean shrugged. Lynn rolled her eyes.

"Ok," she spoke up. "Dean? Arson is so totally out of the question, that I can't even begin to explain to you exactly how much we are _so_ not doing that."

"Thank you," Sam breathed out, obviously exasperated.

And again, Dean shrugged. "Whatever."

"Dean has a point though," Lynn pressed. "Isn't there some way we can shut this place down for the night?"

Sam blinked. "Like what?"

"I don't know… gas leak? Power outage? The health department found rats?"

Sam eyed the bar darkly. "Maybe we should just get Landon out of here," he suggested. "Corner him, take him outside… where he can't hurt anyone."

Lynn raised her eyebrow. "Can't hurt anyone but us, you mean."

"I need another beer," Dean said suddenly.

Sam stared at him. Lynn frowned. Dean ignored them both and got out of his seat. Lynn watched him stalk all the way over to the bar. He stopped right by Jayne and Danny, who had taken seats at the counter.

"Oh, no," she sighed.

"Seriously," Sam said, and Lynn's attention was instantly diverted. "Maybe we should just take him out of here. I'll pretend to arrest him or something. If he's the cause of all this…"

"Sam," she interrupted him. "I don't know if that's true."

"It fits! He's been here, at this bar, around for all those deaths… he was directly connected to Sasha and Charlie, and I'll bet if we do some digging…"

"Sam," she said again, her gut tightening with guilt. "I already did some digging."

He stared. He blinked. Lynn flinched.

She supposed she should have told him right from the get-go, right at the moment she sat down. After that vision in the diner, after that talk in the truck, she'd gotten nervous. She couldn't help it; all Sam's worries and theories and dark demon stuff was enough to make anyone nervous.

So after fighting with Steve, after making up with Jayne, she had sat down at the tiny table in her motel room and booted up her laptop to do some research.

"I suppose we'd have to access the town records office to be sure," she admitted. "But I ran a search on the area's news sites, looking for any deaths or accidents that might have happened in this town dating back twenty two, twenty three years…"

"Did you find a report about a fire?" Sam demanded. "Did Landon Creevey's house burn down when he was six months old? Were there casualties?"

"Sam," she said, trying to sound soothing. "No. No, there was nothing like that. No fires, no accidents… I found an address."

He frowned. "For what?"

"Landon's parents," she returned. "Both his mother and father are alive and well, and living in a nearby apartment complex."

Silence.

"I could be wrong," she said. "Maybe there was a fire. Maybe his mother didn't die, but there was a still fire. We'd have to go to the library and check old newspapers or head to town hall and root through the records office… maybe then we'd find something. But as of right now… I looked, Sam. As far as I can tell, nothing like what happened to you and my brother has ever happened to Landon Creevey."

Sam stared at the table. Lynn stared at him. Then suddenly Sam shook his head and met her eyes. "But then what's causing this?" he demanded. "Why am I having these visions if they're not connected to the demon somehow?"

"I don't know," she told him. "Maybe it's like Kentucky, you know? Maybe something followed Steve here and took root in this bar – or maybe something took root in this bar specifically to draw Steve here… and we know if that's the case, it's connected to the demon. The demon wants him dead. Maybe that's the connection, Sam. Maybe that's all there is to it."

"Maybe," Sam murmured. "But it just felt like… I don't know."

Lynn frowned. "What?"

"Never mind."

"Tell me."

Sam sighed. "I just… I got this feeling. When I was at Landon's house, I just felt… it felt like… I don't know. I can't explain."

Lynn cocked her brow again. "Try."

"It was… it was like my old house, back in Kansas. When we thought the poltergeist was gone but it wasn't. I could feel that, you know. Everything just felt… it felt off, Lynn. And… I can't explain it, ok? I know it doesn't make sense. But I felt… something. I just… I don't know. I really thought he was involved."

Silence. Sam had that desperate look again. Lynn stared at him.

"Ok," she said finally. "All right. If you felt something… well, that usually means something. Or so I've noticed."

Sam nodded. His eyes lost that desperate shine and turned grateful. "So what do we do?"

Lynn shrugged. "I really don't know, Sam. If we corner Landon now, without proof, without certainty…"

"You're right," he said. "But should we evacuate this place?"

Lynn bit her lip. She didn't have an answer for him. Sam's visions could only take them so far. There was no way of knowing for sure how the riot would start. And without a riot, without a scene to examine, without a place to watch Landon where they knew he might start something…

She worried about the selfish way she was thinking. These were innocent people in this bar, and if Sam was right, a lot of them were about to be seriously hurt – possibly killed. She wanted to care. She wanted to decide to evacuate, to protect these people, but…

Well, when it came to solving this case and stopping whatever was going after people in this town… saving all these people might not be the best recourse.

She wondered what Sam would say to that logic. It was almost scary to consider. Sam always did the right thing. He cared. He believed she cared too – and she did. It wasn't that she didn't care, it was only that…

Oh, he was going to be disappointed in her. She hated that.

"I'm thinking," she said slowly. "That unless we actually see how this riot plays out, we might never know what the source of all this crap really is."

Sam stared at her.

"So… we should let this happen?" he asked.

Lynn shrugged and focused her eyes on the tabletop. "I don't know… maybe."

Silence.

"Ok," Sam agreed, surprising her. "I hope you're right about this."

She frowned at his response, thrown by it. He wasn't supposed to say that.

"Yeah," she murmured uncertainly. "Me too."

* * *

Jayne sipped on her PBR, very aware of how _not_ drunk she needed to be. If there was going to be a supernaturally inspired riot that night, she needed her wits about her. In fact, riot or no riot, this stakeout had the potential to turn ugly, and they all needed to be sober for that.

This obvious fact did not seem to be making an impression on Danny, however, who sat beside her taking huge gulps from his beer, making his way too quickly through the bottle. True, he was unaware of the potential riot, but still… they were hunting.

"Oh, goody," she drawled, raising her eyebrow at him. "You're almost finished with your beer. Tell me, Danny… are you planning on hunting drunk tonight?"

He snorted. "Don't be a square, Gibson, it's just one brew."

"Maybe, but I know you, Danny. One brew becomes five way too quickly."

He smirked at her. "Take a chill pill, Gibson. You've got nothing to worry about – I'm not going to drink myself stupid and leave you without backup."

"I've heard that before."

"Hey! It was my twenty-first birthday! Sue me!"

"You nearly got us both killed."

"It was just a ghost!" he protested. "One measly little ghost. I could have put that thing down in my sleep."

"You practically did. Oh, wait! No… that was me who did all the work."

"I found the grave!"

"You tripped over it."

He grinned. "Good times."

Jayne shook her head, fighting a smirk. "Maybe for you."

"You loved it. You loved every drunken minute of it."

"What can I say? I was young and stupid. Almost as stupid as you."

"Bite me," he smirked. "I might have been stupid, but you were the one dating me."

"Yeah," she agreed. "And I might have been stupid too, but that was then and this is now… and _now_ I've wised up. You, on the other hand, have somehow become a bigger idiot."

He grinned wide again. "Don't hate! You're just jealous because I live life in the fast lane."

"Is that what you're calling it?"

"That's what I always called it, baby. Once upon a time, you lived there too."

They lapsed into silence. Jayne took another sip of her beer, trying not to get nostalgic. She hated getting nostalgic. Danny flagged down the bartender and asked for beer number two.

Her eyes roved the inside of the dive bar, taking in the old rusty license plates hanging on the walls and the neon beer signs over the counter. There was the stuffed head of a serious sized buck over the front door. More and more people were filing in through that door now, most of them old and beat down and looking tough as nails.

If this place exploded into a riot tonight… it was going to be one hell of a riot. Suddenly, she felt sick to her stomach with guilt. She ought to tell Danny. It wasn't right, keeping him in the dark like this. It didn't jive with the hunter's code of conduct. Keeping secrets this huge… if you weren't going to be upfront with your partner, you'd be better off working alone. She should tell him. She should tell him everything. If the situation was reversed, he'd tell her.

But could she do that? Could she do that to Sam? It was one thing to spill the beans on Steve, but when it came to Sam… well, that wasn't her secret to tell.

Man, she was such a hypocrite.

"Danny," she said.

"Yeah?"

She swallowed. She stared at him. Her mouth opened and closed. Danny frowned.

"Gibson," he said. "What is up with you?"

And that's when Dean appeared.

He just popped up on the other side of Danny, sliding an empty beer bottle onto the counter, and waved at the bartender.

She stared at him. He stared right back.

He couldn't possibly know what she was thinking. Still, when his eyes met hers, she felt the disapproval, the threat… _don't you say a thing… don't you dare expose Sammy…_

Jayne shook her head. "Um… I don't know," she answered lamely.

Danny raised his eyebrows. "Wow," he announced. "You are so freaking out of it."

She forced a half smile for him, one that barely lasted two seconds, and then turned to scan the bar again.

"We better be prepared for anything tonight," she said suddenly.

"Uh-huh," Danny agreed, sounding bored.

"Seriously," she pressed. "A lot of crazy shit's already gone down in this place. Anything could happen. More brawls… riots, maybe… just, uh… be ready for anything."

Danny was frowning at her again, she could feel it. She refused to turn and meet his eyes.

"You keeping something from me, Gibson?"

Her stomach dropped about ten stories. Jayne forced herself to look at him. "Why would you think that?"

He shrugged. "You're acting weird."

Jayne squeezed out another half smile. "I'm just… worried."

Silence.

Danny raised an eyebrow. He stared at her, his focus steady. Jayne made herself sit still and look innocent. She sincerely doubted that he bought it for a moment.

"Whatever you say, Gibson."

Her skin crawled and her stomach turned and twisted. The guilt was enough to make her sweat. Jayne turned away again and tried to keep her attention on the bar patrons and, whenever he made himself visible, the suspected Landon Creevey.

She was protecting a friend, she kept telling herself. Respecting his privacy. Who really knew how Danny would react to the news that Sam Winchester could see the future?

If this all blew up in her face… if this led to something happening to Danny… well, she'd just have to bite the bullet. When the shit hit the fan, her first priority would be to get Danny out. Protect him. It was only fair.

She honestly couldn't remember the last time she hated herself this much.

More people kept marching through the door. Jayne sipped her beer. Then, it happened. Landon Creevey ducked out from behind the counter and approached a table by the restroom.

The leather-clad biker sitting at that table was holding a hand-rolled cigarette… at least, it looked like a cigarette. She sniffed the air. Behind the smell of stale beer and tobacco smoke was the hint of something skunky.

She was too far away to make out the words Landon exchanged with the aging biker smoking a joint, but she assumed he asked him to take it somewhere else. The biker wasn't ready to comply.

Jayne glanced over her shoulder and saw Sam's eyes on the same table. He got to his feet, and Lynn followed him.

The two men were now yelling at one another, and she could almost hear them over the jukebox. Suddenly, the biker drew back his fist and popped the skinny assistant manager in the lip.

Landon tumbled to the floor.

"We've got trouble," she hissed at Danny.

Danny looked up from his beer and followed her gaze to the biker and Landon. She heard his low whistle in her ear. "Damn," he said. "I thought he was our suspect, not victim number six."

Landon pushed himself halfway up, backing away from the biker. The older man had gotten to his feet and was approaching the twenty-something kid menacingly. Another aging biker that had been seated at the same table stood up too.

The second man hauled off and slugged his pal in the head.

"I'm thinking he's _still_ our suspect," Jayne murmured.

The two bikers were suddenly in an all out brawl. Landon leapt to his feet and ran for the counter. Jayne slid down off her barstool just as Sam appeared at her elbow.

"I'm going after Landon," he announced. "Dean? Danny? Will you break that up before it escalates?"

Then, before anyone could reply, Sam was gone.

Jayne looked at Lynn as Dean and Danny raced for the brawling bikers. Lynn gave her this half pleading, half nervous look.

"Oh, just go after him already," Jayne rolled her eyes.

Lynn gave her a quick smile and then chased Sam as he ran towards the backroom.

Jayne marched after Dean and Danny, determined that her oldest friend was not going to get hurt because her loyalty to the Winchester brothers had left her blinded when it came to protecting Danny's best interests.

Danny grabbed one biker by the scruff of his old thin tee shirt and yanked him off his friend. The man fought and struggled and screamed dirty epithets at the other biker as Danny wrestled him into the wall.

Dean had grabbed the other man under the arms and was trying to haul him away, but this man too was still fighting up a storm. "Dude," Dean snapped at the biker. "I'm trying to save your ass here!"

"Enough already!" Danny hollered at his man. "Break it up!"

_Bang!_

Jayne froze at the gunshot, her stomach dropping, and her eyes going wide. She turned, searching the bar for the source.

Ed, the man who owned the bar, was standing behind the counter, clutching a rifle aimed at the ceiling.

"Take it outside, boys!" he bellowed.

She looked back at the bikers struggling in Dean and Danny's grips.

_Smack!_ The old biker's elbow slammed into Dean's face. Dean's grip slipped, and he toppled backwards onto the floor. The biker charged.

Danny's eyes went as big as two sunny side up eggs. "Oh, shit!"

He tried to haul the other guy out of the way, but the second biker's steel-toed boot caught him in the shin. Danny tripped and stumbled sideways, into the wall, letting go of the man in question.

The two bikers stormed one another and their brawl began again. Jayne glanced at Ed, who had stormed around the bar, his rifle at the ready. "Outside!" he was hollering. "I said, take it outside!"

The two men rolling on the floor, trading punches, failed to pay him any mind. Ed cocked the rifle again, and aimed it high.

"Back off, old man!"

Another motorcycle man, this one only a few years older than Danny, stood up two tables back, and drew a handgun. Jayne's heart nearly stopped when he pointed it at Ed.

_Bang!_

Jayne threw herself into the elderly barkeep as the shot rang out, knocking him to the floor. A bottle on the shelf shattered, directly behind where Ed's head would have been. Glass flew in all directions and whiskey spilled to the floor like a rushing amber waterfall.

Someone screamed. It sounded like a woman. There was a heavy _thud_ followed by several crashes, and she heard running feet and panicked, shrieking bar patrons.

Great. Just fantastic. Jayne sat up off Ed. "Are you all right?" she demanded.

He lifted his head from the floor. "You're the fed," he observed, dully. Then he frowned. "Little lady, I know you didn't just knock me to the floor."

She shrugged. "Well…"

The butt of Ed's rifle swung out from left field and caught her hard against the temple. _Crack!_ Suddenly, Jayne was on the floor.

"Hey!" she heard Danny thunder. Jayne blinked, trying to reorient herself, and forced her head up off the ground. She saw Danny rush the bartender. Ed lifted his rifle and aimed.

Jayne tackled him again, forcing the rifle at the ceiling overhead. _Bang!_ The gun went off once more. Suddenly, she and Ed were wrestling over the gun, kicking each other in the ribs, and Jayne was desperately trying to keep Ed's hands off the trigger.

"Gibson!" she heard Danny yell.

_Bang!_

It wasn't Ed's gun that time. It must have been the biker in the back. Jayne wanted to look, to make sure neither Danny nor Dean had been hit, but it wasn't an option. She continued her struggle with Ed.

All around them, people were still screaming and shouting. She could hear glass shattering and running footsteps and the thud of furniture falling over on the floor. Her knee ended up in Ed's crotch, and he cried out, his grip on the gun loosening. Jayne yanked the rifle free, and this time the butt of the gun smashed Ed in the face.

The old man hit the floor again and his eyes rolled up in his head. Jayne felt for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when she found one. Quickly, she jumped off him, still clutching the rifle, and backed up against the wall, seeking shelter between the restroom door and a nearby booth.

It was pandemonium. Total chaos. Bodies crowding the entire bar, pushing and shoving and throwing punches. The door was blocked off and someone was screaming. Thankfully, the gunshots had stopped.

She found Danny also up against the wall, separated from her by a booth and at least ten panicking people. He wasn't harmed, and no one was assaulting him. He caught her eye and smirked. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Dean. Where the hell was Dean?

She searched the throng desperately, her head throbbing and her breath hitching. Where the hell had he gone?

A heavy body slammed into her from the side. Jayne whirled and found a tall, heavyset man leaning on the wall, panting heavily, clinging to her shoulder for balance. She jerked away and cocked Ed's rifle.

Without the support of her shoulder, the man toppled to the floor. Jayne eyed both him and the still prostrate Ed, who was lying a mere foot away. Suddenly, she was wearing the rifle's shoulder strap and grabbing the closest man under the arms.

Panting, she dragged the first man inside the bathroom. Once she'd gotten the heavy heap far enough through the door, she marched right back out and fought her way over to Ed.

She lifted the old man under the arms as she had the last unconscious burden and dragged him into the bathroom too. Once the two men were safely out of the trampling zone, she ducked back out of the restroom and practically collapsed against the wall.

She tried to catch her breath, clutching the rifle to her chest again. Her hand went up to her temple, trying to massage away the pounding pain. Panicking, her eyes darted around the crowd, trying to find Dean, trying to relocate Danny.

Danny was right where she'd left him. She made herself take a deep, steadying breath. There was panic forming in her gut, and that wouldn't do. She had to stay above whatever twisted, unnatural force was playing with the other people in this bar. She couldn't join their stampeding ranks.

But seriously, where the hell was Dean?

There was a woman standing on the bar, screaming. Two college age men struggling behind the counter, waving broken bottles. A hysterical woman and an irate man fighting for control over the doorknob.

A fist fight broke out three feet to her right. Two chicks were bitch-slapping each other in the corner. Danny was trying to slide into the booth that separated him from her. No Dean. Where was he?

She inched along the wall, eyes roving amongst the crowd. Suddenly, her breath hitched. There, in the throng, wrestling with a pissed off biker. The biker was winning. And the rest of the herd was getting way to close to trampling the both of them.

Jayne tried to move off the wall, but the people in front of her bounced her back. Her fingers tightened on the rifle.

"Son of a bitch," she growled. Then she grabbed both ends of her rifle and slammed the side of the weapon into the nearest person's back.

The people blocking her from Dean stumbled forward and she finally got off the wall, moving into the now open space. The man she'd hit turned on her, fist in the air. Jayne jerked the butt of the rifle into his face, and he went down.

She struggled through the throng, pushing people out of her way and dodging flailing appendages. When she finally got behind the biker beating Dean's face in, she grabbed the barrel of the rifle like a club and swung, smashing the butt into the back of his head.

The man tumbled to the floor. Jayne got her boot under his ribs and knocked him sideways, freeing Dean from his dead weight. She held out her hand.

Dean took it and she jerked him off the floor, mere seconds before an overweight man in cowboy boots would have stepped on his head.

"Goldilocks," he greeted her, still gripping her hand. They were pressed together by the crowd, both trying not to get knocked down.

"Dean," she returned. "You don't look so good."

He smirked at her, and for a second it all felt the way it used to, before the fight they'd had that afternoon. "I got news for you, sweetheart. You don't look so great yourself."

She jerked him back towards the wall. The two of them stumbled through the crowd, dodging fists and full flying bodies, and finally found themselves in the relative safety of the restroom door.

"Hey!"

Jayne looked up at the shout and found Danny standing up in the nearby booth. "Danny!" she shouted back.

He stomped along the cushioned seat and grabbed the back of the booth, vaulting over top of it. His boots hit the floor on the other side and he fought his way over to her and Dean, clinging to the wall.

"Hot damn!" he exclaimed once he reached them, panting for breath. "I don't know about you two, but I think we better get the hell out of here!"

"And do what?" Jayne hollered back. "Leave these people in here?"

"You got a better idea?"

Truthfully, she didn't, but that didn't mean she wanted to abandon them all. "We can't just leave them!" she retorted. "Have you seen this place? It's like a zebra stampede – you know, if the zebras were locked in a gymnasium with a pride of lions!"

Danny raised an eyebrow at her. "You having a little trouble controlling your emotions there, Gibson?"

She made a face at him. "My emotions are perfectly under control, Hannigan!"

"Aren't they always?" Dean quipped on her other side.

Jayne tossed him a glare over her shoulder and dug her elbow into his stomach.

He grunted, and then pointed a warning finger in her face. "I wouldn't be elbowing me right now, Goldilocks. Over reacting is, you know… sort of catching in here."

"Seriously," Danny spoke up again. "I'm usually up for a good brawl, but even I know it's time to bail. Can we go?"

Jayne surveyed the mess in front of her. She didn't like admitting it, but Danny had a point. It was looking pretty hopeless.

"I guess we better," she sighed.

"Finally," Dean announced. He grabbed her elbow and ducked inside the restroom door, dragging her with him.

Jayne stumbled into him as he stopped inside the door. Danny's boots clacked on the linoleum floor as he raced in behind them.

"What the hell happened in here?" Dean asked.

Danny snorted, stepping up beside Jayne. "Gibson got all Good Samaritan on us and started dragging unconscious people in here."

Dean frowned, surveying the two men laying on the floor, and then shrugged. "Whatever."

He let go of her elbow and ran for the long, narrow window on the other side of the bathroom. Jayne watched as he pried the thing open. It was far above his head, tucked right up against the ceiling, and he had to stretch to reach it.

"You first, Goldilocks," he ordered once the window was open, gesturing at her to hurry.

Jayne didn't even argue. She simply marched to his side and let him give her a leg up. Then she dragged herself through the small opening and dropped.

She nearly toppled over when she hit the sidewalk on the other side. Grimacing, she forced herself to stay upright, and ducked away from the window.

Dean came crawling through the window next, easing himself through the narrow space, and then hopping down, just barely landing on his feet.

Danny came next, landing with ease. The drop was small, considering his height.

In the harsh light of the parking lot lamps, it was easy to see just how badly Dean had gotten himself beat. His eye was turning black, his lip was swelling, and he was nursing his ribs.

Jayne found herself walking to his side again. Her hand wound around his arm. "You all right?" she demanded.

He shrugged her off. "Peachy."

It hurt to watch him walk away.

* * *

Sam tore through the door of the bar's backroom, chasing Landon as he raced across the storage space and ducked out through the loading entrance.

Before the back door had fully closed, Sam was there, pushing his way through, determined to follow the other young man.

But outside, in the parking lot, Sam was unsure where to go. Landon had vanished. Sam stopped and surveyed his surroundings. The guy couldn't have gone far.

He crept out slowly from the building, eyes roving the parking lot. Nothing, nothing, nothing… and there it was! A flash of white under a streetlamp.

Sam saw the back of Landon's tee shirt as he raced away from the building, and once again he took chase. He tore across the lot, zigzagging around parked cars, forcing himself to move faster and faster…

Landon was running for an old busted Gremlin, painted green and primer black. Sam leapt over the hood of a nearby Chevy and cut him off at the driver's door. Landon ducked and spun on his heel, trying to run back the way he came, but Sam caught him by the collar of his tee shirt and slammed him into the side of the Gremlin.

"Stop!" he ordered. "I just want to talk!"

"Really?" Landon snapped. "Is that why you're slamming me into things?"

"Why are you running away?" Sam demanded.

"I don't know! Seems like a pretty common reaction when you're being chased! Could you let me go, man?"

"Not a chance," Sam retorted. "What did you do in there? Do you know what's going to happen?"

"Seriously, get off me, you psycho!"

"Sasha Gordon dumped you for Charlie Grossman!" Sam exclaimed, shoving the other young man harder against the car. "Suddenly, they're both dead? And some crazy biker punches _you_, but somehow his _friend_ is the one who punches him back?"

Landon fell silent and glowered.

"What did John Worley do to you?" Sam asked in low tones, his eyes narrowing. "What did Ted Salzmann do, or Ross Parker? Huh? Shove you in the bar, talk to your girlfriend, look at you wrong? Was it really worth them dying?"

"Get off me!"

Landon struggled and Sam fought back, wrestling him up against the Gremlin again. The fight would have continued, but the cock of a pistol stopped them both cold.

Sam glanced out the corner of his eye, already knowing who he'd find beside him. Landon's head swiveled at the sound, his jaw dropping. Lynn had appeared at the front of the Gremlin, her pistol pointed at Landon's head.

"I think you better start talking," she announced.

Landon stared at the pistol. Sam shoved him again. "Hey," he snapped. "What the hell did you do, huh? What did any of those people back in that bar do? People could die in the mess you're trying to create."

The other man took a deep breath and glowered at Sam.

"Talk, damn it!" Sam exploded, shoving him again.

"All right!" Landon shouted. "Fine! What does it matter, really? Yeah, ok? I killed them."

Silence.

Landon smirked. "It was weird, you know? I mean, a few months ago? I was just this guy. This total failure. Graduated college, but couldn't get a job – not a real job. That Ross Parker guy you keep going on about? Yeah, he took my job. The one I wanted. He got it. So, yeah. I offed him."

Sam blinked, not believing that this confession was pouring out Landon's lips. He exchanged shocked eyes with Lynn, who also looked suspicious. He saw her tighten the grip on her gun.

Landon was still going. "Worley? Salzmann? They were pricks. They hassled me every night I was on duty. They made working at Ed's a living hell. So, yeah. I got rid of them. I got rid of them, and now I'm getting rid of all the other people in that shithole!"

Sam shook his head. "You admit it?"

"Damn straight."

"But how are you doing this?"

Landon shrugged. "Don't know exactly. Used to be, I couldn't do this. Then one day I just woke up and… I could. My father was yelling at me, telling me I needed to get a real job, and I found myself wishing he could just relax… chill out… and then, all of a sudden, he did."

Sam gawked at the kid. Landon shrugged. He'd stopped trying to break free of Sam's grip. Sam dared to glance at Lynn once again. She was frowning. He saw her take a step closer, still aiming that gun at Landon's head.

"I looked it up," Landon went on. "They call people like me empaths. We can sense your emotions, and we can control them."

"And you're just going drive everyone in that bar crazy?"

Landon snickered. "You don't know much about people do you? It only takes a couple out-of-control asshats to turn a quiet bar setting into a complete riot. So, yeah. I tamper with a few people's heads. Four or five. Suddenly, the whole bar is reacting. These people do it to themselves."

Sam shook his head. He frowned. "Landon… was there ever a fire in your house?"

Landon blinked. "Uh… what?"

"A fire. In your house. Maybe when you were a baby."

"Dude, what are you smoking?"

"Maybe somebody died? Your mother? Maybe your dad remarried?"

"Yeah… no."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Sam narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on the skinny twenty-something. "You wouldn't be lying to me, would you?"

Landon snorted. He leveled Sam with disbelieving eyes. "Seriously?" he retorted. "I just admitted to killing five people with my mind. Why would I lie about some random fire?"

"I just find it interesting that there wasn't a fire," Sam said slowly. "I mean, all that random fire stuff? It isn't random, Landon. It happened to me."

"So?"

"So I'm a lot like you," Sam pressed. "I used to be a normal guy. And then one day, I started having these dreams. And those dreams started coming true."

"Are you high?"

"I can see things before they happen," Sam snapped. "I saw you send your ex-girlfriend driving over a cliff. I saw you start a riot in that bar tonight. I saw it all before any of it actually went down."

"Dude," Landon shook his head. "You're crazy."

"Am I?" Sam returned. "Is it any crazier than what you can do? Controlling what people feel, making them kill themselves?"

"You're a nut job."

"There's just one thing I don't understand," Sam said. "Why are you telling me all this?"

Silence. Then Landon shrugged. "Why not? It's not like you can do anything about it. In a few minutes, you're going to be dead."

Sam went cold. "What?"

Landon smirked. "Don't you feel it? That fear rising up inside you? That's all me."

Sam frowned, tilting his head. "What fear?"

"Give it a minute or two, Agent Squier – if that is your real name. Eventually, you're going to feel it. It'll consume you. And you'll destroy yourself… right in front of me."

Sam frowned some more. He waited a second or two. Then he shook his head. "Yeah… I don't feel anything."

Landon frowned now. It was humorous, actually. Suddenly, he was no longer the smirking psychopath. He was again the confused, dopey college grad from earlier that day. "You don't?" he asked.

Sam shook his head again. "Nope. Nothing."

Landon shook his head too. "That's not possible."

"Apparently it is."

"No. No, you just wait. You're going to die."

"Yeah, I doubt it," Sam replied, smirking. "Sorry, Landon. I don't think that works on me."

Landon gawked.

Sam smirked wider. "Tough break."

_Clang!_

The sound startled both Sam and Landon. Sam turned his head to stare at Lynn and found her backing away, shaking her head furiously. Her gun lay abandoned on the pavement.

"Lynn?" Sam asked, his gut tightening with panic.

"No, no, no, no, no," Lynn stuttered, still backing up. "Oh, no. Oh, no."

"Lynn!" Sam exclaimed. "What's wrong?"

Landon started to chuckle. "Well, well," he said. "Maybe my magic doesn't work on you… but it most definitely works on her."

Lynn exhaled harshly through her teeth, still backing up, still shaking her head.

"Lynn," Sam soothed. "Lynn, come on now."

"No!" she exclaimed. "I can't do this!"

"Can't do what?"

She didn't answer. Instead she turned tail and ran.

Sam's grip on Landon slipped as he lunged for Lynn's arm. He missed and she kept running. "Lynn!" he hollered.

"Better catch her," Landon drawled.

Sam whirled around and snatched Landon by the throat. He slammed the kid back up against the car. "What the hell did you do to her?" he demanded.

Landon smirked again. "Same thing I do to everybody."

"Fix her!" Sam bellowed. "Right now!"

"You better run and get her," Landon said evenly. "She'll be long gone and dead by the time you get anything out of me."

Sam glanced in the direction Lynn had run. The distraction was enough. Suddenly Landon had thrown himself full force into Sam, knocking Sam's grip loose. Sam stumbled into the nearest parked car and Landon broke free, sprinting around the other side of the Gremlin. Sam shoved himself off the other car and started after him.

"Make a decision!" Landon shouted, backing away from him. "Chase me or chase her! Can't get both of us… if you get me, she'll die. I guarantee that."

Sam hesitated, his fists clenching at his sides, head swinging back and forth between Landon and the direction Lynn had run off in. Landon smirked.

"You better hurry!" he called out. "She's headed for the hills… literally. At night, no clue where she's going… even if she wasn't whacked out her mind, it'd be a death sentence."

Sam glared at him, and then looked out at the hills, helplessly.

"Catch you later," Landon said. And then he was off and running in the opposite direction.

Sam watched him, legs poised to run, his head arguing with him about which way to go.

"Damn it," he hissed.

Then he turned and ran after Lynn.


	51. Break Down

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to hornblowerarchiekennedyfan, angeleyenc, ks90, PushUpDasies, Lov3good, Joan J, fay-faerie, MYP, DesElements, ThreeMoons, ColtFan165, Carver Edlund, XxRikela-chanxX, Nelle07, tiaracove, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, and Alazensupernuke for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 51: Break Down

Dean was pissed.

He stomped along the front of Ed's bar, holding the rifle he'd snagged from Jayne.

_Crash!_

He slammed the rifle into one of the large front windows, shattering the glass. Screams echoed back at him. Dean whipped the rifle all around the window frame, knocking as much glass loose as possible. He'd barely cleared the window before the stampede burst through the newly made exit.

Dodging the escapees, he made his way to the next window and smashed the rifle through that glass too. Grunting, he cleared away the glass and then stomped on down the covered front porch.

Danny Hannigan was at the front door, trying to pry the thing open. The crowd on the other side made it nearly impossible in their panic, still fighting over the doorknob.

Dean sailed on past to the window on the other side of the door as Danny finally managed to tug it open. People now fought their way through the door, as well as the two broken windows. Danny found himself pressed to the wall, holding the door wide open and trying to keep the doorway clear.

With one last powerful swing, Dean smashed in the last front window, swishing the rifle all throughout the frame, knocking out all the glass he could get to before another wave of panicking bar patrons began their mass exodus through the last exit.

He stood off to the side, watching as the rioters fled the tavern. Jayne was at the end of the front porch, using one of the wooden pillars for cover, talking on her cell phone. He couldn't make out all the words, but he assumed she was making an anonymous 9-1-1 call.

Dean sagged against the wall of the bar, panting and massaging his ribs – ribs that hurt like a bitch, by the way. He grumbled to himself and cussed under his breath. His face was sore and his ribs were bruised and if he was being perfectly honest, he'd like nothing more than to find the biker who'd jumped him in the crowd and continue beating his face in.

That was unnecessary, of course. Jayne had already leveled him with the barkeeper's rifle, knocking him out cold with one good hit to the head. Dean was pissed as all hell at her, but he couldn't deny it was good to have her in his corner.

Finally, Dean forced himself off the wall and pushed his way through the lingerers and into the parking lot. The problem with the Microtel and the adjacent bar, he decided, was their location: on the outskirts of town, at the base of some seriously wild looking hills, surrounded by nothing but land and trees. He could hear the hum of the nearby interstate, but he couldn't see it. It made the place lonely.

He also couldn't see Sam, no matter which direction he turned his head. Sam wasn't in the parking lot, and he couldn't see hide or hair of him in the surrounding dark hills. No Sam, no Lynn, and no Landon.

He dug his phone out of his coat and hit the speed dial. Sam didn't pick up.

"Damn it," he growled as the call went to voicemail. He snapped the cell shut and shoved it back into his coat pocket.

Jayne appeared beside him. He glanced briefly in her direction.

"Sam's gone," he said shortly.

"Lynn?"

"Her too."

"She's not answering her phone."

"Sam either."

Silence.

"Where we going?" Danny's voice sounded in Dean's ear.

Dean grimaced, rolling his eyes. "No clue," he replied, still surveying the parking lot.

His phone rang.

Dean snatched it up, checked the ID, and answered it quickly. "Sam?" he demanded. "Where the hell are you?"

"Um… not sure exactly. Look, you have to find Landon."

"What?"

"It's him, Dean. He admitted it."

"Well, if he admitted it, then why aren't you still with him?"

"He did something to Lynn… I don't know, but she's running around the hills and completely out of control. I have to find her before she hurts herself… listen. Landon ran off towards the Interstate, but he'll be back. His car's in the lot; it's an old green and black Gremlin. You have to keep a watch on him – do not lose him, but don't try to confront him, ok?"

Dean snorted. "Sam, there's three of us and we're all armed. I think we can handle one skinny college kid."

"No, you can't. He's going to… I don't know… piss the three of you off to the point where you're killing each other or something. You know it won't be hard; you and Jayne have been at it like cats and dogs since we got here, and you've threatened to kill Danny more times than I can count. Stay back, and wait for me. I'm the only one he can't control."

"What?" Dean snapped. "Why not?"

"I don't know… I guess because I'm so much like him?"

Dean gnashed his teeth. "You are _not_…"

"We don't have time for this. Find his car, follow him out of here and wait for me."

Sam hung up the phone.

For a moment, Dean just stood there, listening to the silence on the other end. "Damn it," he growled again, hanging up and shoving his phone away.

"What's going on?" Jayne demanded.

"You see a Gremlin?" Dean asked, ignoring the question.

"What, like Gizmo?" Danny quipped.

Dean raised an eyebrow at him and then looked at Jayne. "He's joking, right?"

Jayne nodded. "At least, he better be."

Danny smirked at her. She rolled her eyes and turned her focus on the parking lot. "There," she announced, pointing at a parking light some distance from the bar.

Dean followed her finger with his eyes. Sure enough, there it was, parked under the light. He started forward.

The Gremlin's engine suddenly turned over, though the sound was muffled at this distance, and its headlights flickered on.

"Shit!" Dean exploded, turning and running for his car. "We got to go; Creevey's on the move."

He didn't see the looks Jayne and Danny exchanged, or hear any questions they might have been asking one another. What he did hear was their running footsteps on the pavement behind him. He slid into the driver's seat of his car and started the engine as Jayne took the passenger seat beside him and Danny hopped into the back.

Dean was already pulling out of the space and speeding erratically through the parking lot when Jayne asked, "So… what the hell are we doing?"

He spared her a glare before stomping on the gas, and then swerved out of the parking lot and onto the curvy side road. "Chasing Creevey."

"Where's Lynn? Where's Sam?"

"Woods."

"What?"

Dean shrugged. Jayne's eyes narrowed.

"Explain," she ordered.

Dean focused his eyes on the black bumper of the Gremlin in front of him. "Landon made your sister all crazy. She ran off into the woods. Sam went after her. Any more questions?"

It was a cruel way to tell Jayne that something was wrong with her sister, and Dean felt bad when her glare faded into the sort of expression that might imply a heart attack. Grimacing, he bit the inside of his cheek and glowered out the windshield.

"They'll be fine," he ground out. "But we got to keep a trail on Landon. Can't risk him getting away while we're trying to figure out how to handle him."

"What's to handle?" Jayne asked, her tone cold.

Dean agreed with her implications – he really did. Still, the ice in her tone was a little hard to take.

"I don't get it," Danny spoke up from the back. Dean rolled his eyes. "We know for certain this kid is behind all this?"

"Yep."

"How the hell's he doing it?"

Dean shrugged. "Sam thinks he has some sort of psychic ability."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

Danny chuckled low in his throat, his head going back against the seat. He rubbed his face. "Oh, now _that_ is a load of bull…"

"Can it Danny," Jayne ordered. "All we need to know is that the kid's doing it, and not naturally. We got to put him down."

Silence.

"Well, all right then," Danny said. "What's the plan?"

"Follow the Gremlin," Dean returned.

He focused on the back bumper of the green car. The road they were headed down now was narrow and curvy. It lacked streetlamps, and the dark of the hills was pressing in on the road. They were following it uphill, passing cheaply made fences and tiny houses and old barns. The surrounding area was heavily wooded. Dean bit the inside of his mouth again. The Gremlin was speeding along the twisty back road, and he was trying desperately to keep up with the junky old car without landing in a ditch or plowing into a tree. He took the turns too sharp, throwing his passengers into the sides of his car, squealing the tires and narrowly missing the rusty, leaning guardrail on their right side more than once.

"Geez, Winchester," Danny spoke up when it happened for the fourth time. "Drive much?"

"Shut up back there," Dean snapped, fighting the urge to propel the other man through the back windshield.

"He knows we're chasing him," Jayne observed. "He's going too fast. We don't know these roads; he's probably going to lose us."

Dean snorted. "Are you questioning the speed of my baby?"

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Your baby might be fast, but _you_ are slowing her down."

"Shut up."

"My Harley could take that stupid little green car _on_," Danny grumbled.

"I swear to God, you say one more word and I will shove you out of this car," Dean retorted.

"You even try it, and I'll…"

"Boys!" Jayne interrupted. "Enough! You've made your point; you both have testicles. Danny, shut up. Dean, watch the freaking road!"

Dean's eyes snapped back to the pavement on command, and finding himself too close to the ditch again, he swerved, swinging out into the middle of the road.

"Damn it," Dean growled.

"You suck," Danny added.

Jayne reached into the back seat and punched her friend hard in the thigh.

"Ow!" Danny exclaimed. "Damn it, Gibson! Was the Charlie horse necessary?"

"You bet your ass it was," Jayne replied.

Dean took the next curve too fast and squealed the tires again. Jayne grunted next to him as she slammed into the door.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"I'll bet," she snorted.

The problem was that Landon had too far of a head start, Dean decided. The Gremlin was almost ten car lengths ahead, and Dean wasn't used to the twisty roads, which made it difficult to keep up.

"I just need him to slow down!" Dean shouted suddenly, his frustration getting the best of him.

"You want him to slow down?" Danny asked from the back.

"Obviously!" Dean snapped.

"So… we need him to slow down."

Dean's grip tightened on the wheel as he simulated throttling the man in the backseat. "Are you freaking kidding me right now?"

"Hey, hey," Danny said smoothly. "I just want to be clear; we're looking for a way to slow the kid down?"

"How many times do you want me to say it?"

"Danny," Jayne murmured warningly.

"All right then."

Dean ignored the other hunter, thankful for the return to silence. Jayne on the other hand frowned concernedly into the backseat. "Danny, what the hell kind of stupid plan did you just pull out of your ass?"

"Plan? What do you mean plan?" Danny returned, but there was something in his tone Dean didn't trust.

Cold wind whipped suddenly through the car as Danny rolled down the back window. "I'm just slowing that mother fucker _down_, Gibson!"

"Whoa," Dean said, his eyes going to the rear view mirror. "What?"

There was a flash of silver as Danny drew his gun.

"Danny!" Jayne shouted.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean demanded.

Danny pointed his gun out the back window and squinted, aiming for the Gremlin.

_Bang!_

"Shit!" Dean exclaimed, ducking.

"_Yeeeeeeeeeeee-haw!_" Danny cried into the wind.

_Bang! Bang!_

The redhead fired off two more shots.

_Pop!_

The back tire on the Gremlin blew out. Suddenly, the green car was swerving all over the road, air hissing out the back tire. It squealed into the brush, jamming its front end between two trees.

Dean swerved too, whipping the Impala into a small green patch just off the road, protected from oncoming traffic by several trees. He stopped short and Jayne lurched forward beside him. Automatically, Dean threw his arm out in front of her.

She stared at him.

He stared back. Then he whipped his head around to look at Danny.

"_What the hell?_" he exploded.

Danny shrugged, smirking. "You said you wanted him to slow down. I slowed him down."

Jayne raised an eyebrow. "You brought him to a dead stop," she retorted.

"Even better," Danny replied, still smirking. He threw open the back door and hopped out of the car, still clutching his gun. "Let's go get this mind controlling murdering freak! _Woo!_"

He punched his fist in the air and began sauntering back towards the road. Dean stared at him a moment, and then furiously shook his head.

"God damn it!" he bellowed, reaching across Jayne to dig through the glove compartment. "Psycho redneck!"

His fingers finally closed around his gun and he yanked it loose. Then he jumped out of his car and stomped after Danny.

Jayne was out two seconds later, still clutching Ed's rifle from the bar. She cocked it, and the sound echoed through the too still woods.

The three hunters ran down the road, ducking into the brush on the opposite side of the pavement and charging up to the smoking Gremlin. In addition to the blown back tire, the car had smashed into two young trees, crinkling the hood.

Dean threw open the driver's side door and pointed his gun into the car.

Landon Creevey was gone.

"Damn it!" he exclaimed, slamming the door shut. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

"What's the problem, Dean-o?" Danny asked.

Dean glowered at the other man, his fingers tightening on his pistol. He was seized by the sudden impulse to shoot Danny Hannigan.

"You want to know what my problem is?" he asked instead, his tone low and dangerous.

Danny smirked wide. "Well, I did ask."

_Shoot him… must shoot…_

Dean took a deep steadying breath, trying to force himself calm. "Gee, Danny, I don't know. Maybe my problem is that you fired off your gun like a trigger-happy hillbilly, causing this car to crash _and losing us Landon Creevey!_"

His attempts to stay calm failed him as he roared the last line, shoulders shaking with anger. Danny blinked, and then smirked again.

"Yo, Gibson!" he called. "Your pal seems pissed. What's his deal?"

Dean clenched his teeth, the hand holding his gun shaking.

_Really want to shoot… must shoot him…_

Jayne had vanished into the trees mere seconds before the outburst, and now she poked her head back out. Seeing Danny's shit-eating smirk and Dean's murderous eyes, she quickly stepped in between them.

"Chill," she ordered Dean. "He left a trail."

He felt his anger lessen, the tension seeping out of his shoulders, but all against his will. He wanted to keep being angry.

"Don't tell me to chill," he groused, lamely.

Jayne rolled her eyes.

He brushed past her and stormed into the brush. The ground was soft and muddy, and sure enough, just like Jayne had said, there were footprints leading straight into the woods.

Dean set out on the trail immediately. Jayne followed him, Danny behind her.

"Do you have to antagonize him?" he heard her hiss at Danny.

"Does he have to deserve it so much?"

Dean clenched his teeth again. He heard a loud smack.

"Ow," Danny grumbled. "Look at you, picking sides."

"Next big hill? I'm pushing you off it."

Dean fought it, but he smiled anyway.

* * *

Later, looking back at the run through the hills, Lynn wouldn't be able to articulate _exactly _what had been racing through her thoughts. At the time, though, everything seemed so terrifying, that the only solution appeared to be _run_.

So she ran. Dropped the pistol and ran. Tore off across the parking lot and ducked into the woods, desperate to get away from those harsh, accusing lights. Immediately, the dark had closed in on her. It was equally terrifying.

She didn't know where she was trying to go, because there really was nowhere to go. All she knew was that she had to run. She had to go, to get away. It was as if she were trying to outrun herself.

Because, if Lynn was being honest, it was herself that she found so terrifying.

In the parking lot, staring at the skinny college grad, pinned between his crappy old car and Sam Winchester's fists, the gun had fit so easily into her hands. It was her go-to. She'd drawn and pointed, demanding answers.

She'd known, when it all came out that Landon was behind everything, that he was using his mind to hurt other people, mess with their feelings… she'd known she was going to have to shoot him. It was just the way they did things. When she'd been younger, the thought might have been difficult to consider… killing monsters or destroying spirits was one thing, but taking human life was another. It wasn't what they did.

But that was romanticizing. She soon found that out. Maybe it was all the time on the road with Jayne that drove home the point. Listening to the cynicism of her older sister, watching her pull the trigger without hesitation… maybe it was years spent growing up with Russ Juarez as a father, a man who put the job first and everything else second, a man who also wouldn't have hesitated to shoot Landon Creevey…

However it had come about, she'd stopped fighting the inevitable. Seeing Landon in the parking lot with Sam, hearing his confession… she knew she had to shoot him.

A few moments more, and the fear started to overpower her.

Maybe it was an evil thing, to take human life so easily. Maybe she was bad. Maybe she was going to go bad… maybe this was how it would start.

Maybe this was the way it started with her mother. Maybe the hoodoo had started out with Inez Rodriguez trying to do good, trying to help people, trying to do what Lynn and the rest of her family did everyday; cut down the bad and protect innocent people. And then it had shifted, somehow. Inez had lost the balance, lost control... maybe it would happen to Lynn too.

She ran through the brush, twigs cracking under her boots, leaves slapping up against her jacket, branches pulling at her hair. It was getting darker and darker now, and she was running blind. Not that it mattered. She wasn't running anywhere in particular; she was just running, running away from the one thing she couldn't outrun…

The ground dipped and she slipped on loose dirt. A short scream echoed in the trees as she slid down an incline, bouncing off roots and small bushes. She rolled down the hill, head still spinning, still focusing on the terror of everything she was running from, until she finally hit flat ground. Lynn rolled another few feet until she reached out and grabbed hold of the nearest root, slowing to a stop.

Panting, she lay still a moment, clutching at the dirt. Slowly, she lifted her head.

She was on a ledge, jutting out over a steep drop. Lynn squinted into the darkness. The moon was out, and she could see treetops and large rocks beneath her. And the river. She could hear the rushing of the Ohio River; she could even see it twisting through the trees and the rocks in the valley below.

She was a long way up. Lynn swallowed, pushing herself up off the ground. Her arms shook. All of her shook. She stared at the bottom of the drop. She sniffed.

Taking a deep breath, she sat up all the way, staring at the river below, still shaking. Her eyes were stinging now. Her dirty fingers brushed at her damp cheek.

The fears were still swirling inside her. She still wanted to run. But there was nowhere to run now – and there had been nowhere to run before either, she recognized, nowhere she could go to escape herself. Lynn got up on her knees, eyes on the river.

Her legs were tensing beneath her. They wanted to jump. _She_ wanted to jump.

After all, escaping herself was a nearly impossible feat. There was in fact only one way to actually escape, and that was to fall.

* * *

Jayne picked her way through the undergrowth, beaming her flashlight on the mud beneath her boots. Danny was behind her, keeping an eye on the trail and making sure no one was following. Dean was ahead of them both. Jayne watched his back as he pushed through the trees, his flashlight beam bouncing off the bushes and rocks, checking to see if Landon was lying in wait up ahead of them.

It was a dangerous game they were playing. On foot, they were much more vulnerable. Landon could be anywhere out in the woods. All it would take was getting too close to the kid. He'd use his mind mojo, and they'd be sunk.

Dean stopped suddenly, frowning at the ground. Jayne stepped up next to him. "What?" she asked.

"He's leading us back towards the road," Dean murmured.

"No," Jayne disagreed. "He's _been_ leading us in a zigzag. Kid knows we're on his trail. It's a trap."

"Fine," Dean snapped. "It's a trap. Now what?"

Silence. Jayne folded her arms over her chest. She glanced over her shoulder at Danny, who was peering suspiciously into a bush. Sighing, Jayne leveled a glare at the side of Dean's head.

Dean must have felt the gaze, because he turned and looked her in the eye. "What?" he demanded.

"Stop being a dick," she hissed.

Dean blinked.

"Hey," Danny's voice sounded in her ear. "What's going on?"

She glared at Dean a moment more. He looked away, and she turned to the other hunter. "We think the kid knows we're behind him. The trail's zigzagging all over the place. He's trying to throw us off, waiting for the right moment, and then…"

"I get driven homicidal angry and Winchester rips me into thousands of pieces?" Danny finished, wearing a goofy smirk.

"That's about right," Dean drawled, flashing Danny a smirk of his own. It was much less goofy and much more threatening.

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Thoughts?" she asked Danny. "All Dean seems to have is sarcasm."

Danny whipped out his cell phone. "We're near the top of this hill, right?"

Jayne shrugged. "I guess."

He squinted at the display screen, holding the phone high. "All right," he grinned. "Not a whole lot of reception, but it's something."

"Who you going to call?" Dean asked ironically.

"The brains of my whole operation," Danny returned. He dialed, putting the phone to his ear.

"Well that's good," Dean muttered, snorting. "I was worried he'd been relying on his own brain."

"Shut up," Jayne retorted, fully fed up with him by now.

"Deedee?" Danny asked into the phone. "You hear me?"

There was a pause. Jayne frowned at her old friend. "Yeah, it's me," Danny said to his cell phone speaker. "Wait – you're fuzzing. Yeah, I hear you. I'm in Mineral Wells, WV… What? Oh, yeah, let me move over a little… can you hear me now?"

Dean sighed harshly. Jayne spared him a dark look.

"We were on Royalton, headed north. Can you tell me what's in the area?" Brief pause. "Yank me, Carrots. Google it already."

Jayne watched Danny's face as Deedee responded to his rude command. His lips got tight. "No," he snapped.

There was a pause. "Seriously, no. I'm not saying it." Another pause. "There are other people here, Deedee!"

"Goddamn it, Danny!" Jayne exploded. "Will you just do what she wants so we can get out of the damn woods?"

Danny stuck out his tongue at her, and then sighed. "Fine. You are the best sister ever." Pause. "I bow to your superior intellect and acknowledge that my brain was somehow irreparably damaged in my youth." Pause. "I… I… Deedee, come on… _Deedee_… fine! My brain was irreparably damaged in my youth, and I wet the bed until I was twelve. Are you happy now?"

Dean guffawed from the tree he'd taken refuge against. Jayne rolled her eyes at Dean, at Danny, and at Deedee, all of whom seemed hell bent on making her life unnecessarily difficult.

"Thank you!" Danny exclaimed. "God, all that just to get your lazy ass to use MapQuest… I told you, I don't like those new phones. They're too complicated. Besides, there's no Wi-Fi in the middle of the hills… bite me, Raggedy Ann! Yeah, yeah. Thanks. Love you too."

Danny hung up his phone and shoved it in his pocket. "All right, Deedee says there's nothing in this area except for an old junkyard a mile west of the road," he announced. "We're probably pretty close to it now. I say, if this Landon kid's going anywhere, it's to the junkyard. We should head straight there and forget the trail. Take him by surprise."

"Sounds good to me," Jayne agreed. "Dean?"

"Whatever." He eyed Danny a moment, and then he smirked. "You wet the bed until you were twelve?"

Danny was immediately on the defensive. "No! That's just something she makes me say… I mean…"

Dean raised an eyebrow. Danny narrowed his eyes at the other hunter and leveled a threatening finger at him. "You say one more word, Winchester, and my gun goes off by accident."

"All right," Jayne intervened. "That's definitely enough. Everybody shut up. Let's get moving again."

She gave Danny a little shove. "Take the lead."

Danny glared at Dean a few seconds more, and then did as ordered. Jayne fell into step beside him, but Dean lagged behind. "So you do that a lot?" she asked Danny.

"Do what?"

"Call Deedee up and ask her to save your ass?"

Danny smirked. "Yeah, I give her a jangle now and then."

"Well, that explains a lot."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'd been wondering how the hell you managed to survive so long on your own."

"Bite me, Gibson."

* * *

Sam ran, ducking under heavy branches and breaking sticks under his shoes. He was listening hard for footsteps and cracking twigs ahead of him, trying to hear where Lynn might be running in the woods, but all he could hear was his own racing footfalls.

He stopped for a moment, breathing heavily, gripping his knees. He glanced around the woods for signs of a trail, listening for footsteps.

Then he heard it. A short scream echoing in the trees.

Sam ran again, hoping he was headed in the right direction. The hills made it difficult to track sounds. Soon, he stumbled through bushes with broken branches, growing out of dirt freckled with slight imprints: a trail. Sam followed the path at top speed.

He slipped on loose dirt and nearly tumbled down a steep incline, stopping himself only by reaching out and grabbing hold of a nearby tree. Panting heavily, he steadied himself, squinting down into the dark valley.

The moon was only a sliver in the dark sky, but it was enough to make out the dark trees and steep drop off at the end of the incline. The river wound its way through the valley, silver in the moonlight.

He squinted. He saw her shadowy form on the edge of the drop off, pacing the dirt below. She drew in heavy gasping breaths that echoed in the hills, ringing in his ears even at the top of the incline.

"Lynn!" he called.

She didn't even turn around. Slowly, Sam picked his way down the incline, clinging to trees and bushes, slipping and sliding in the dirt.

"Lynn!" he called again, edging down off the incline and onto the drop off.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and started, quickly backing away. "No!" she shouted at him. "Go away!"

Her boot touched down dangerously close to the edge. Sam swallowed, holding up his hands in surrender as he picked his way towards her. "It's all right," he soothed. "It's just me. Just Sam."

"I know who you are! Leave me alone!"

Sam glanced down at the valley and swallowed again. He forced a reassuring smile and took a step closer. "Lynn, come on. We should really get out of here."

She backed up, getting closer and closer to the edge. Sam's stomach did a somersault. "Lynn," he tried again. "Come on, now. Everything's going to be fine."

"You don't know that," she retorted, shaking her head. He could hear the panic in her voice. "You can't possibly know that. Everything could go really, really bad."

He wasn't sure what they were talking about. Sam wouldn't admit that to her, but he really didn't know. "Everything could," he said carefully. "It's possible. But if you just come here, away from the cliff…"

She stared at him.

"Please?" Sam asked.

Lynn shook her head again. "No," she said. "It's better this way."

She took a step back. Again, Sam swallowed nervously, edging forward. "What's better?" he asked. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't want to be her," Lynn replied, her voice high-pitched with hysteria. "I don't want…"

"You're not," Sam cut her off. It all came together, and suddenly he knew exactly what she was talking about. "Lynn, you're not going to be your mother."

"I already am," she retorted. "I've never been like my dad. Jayne was more like my dad than I ever was – and he wasn't even her dad! I've _got_ to be like my mom."

Sam shook his head, moving closer. "Maybe that's not a bad thing."

"But…"

"We don't know the whole story."

"No one will tell me the whole story!" she exploded. "What don't they want me to know?"

Sam stared at her a moment in silence, at a loss. She shook her head and sniffed, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

"I'm scared," she said.

"I know," he murmured. "I really do."

She nodded. "I've got to end it."

Sam's eyes went wide. She turned her back on him and charged for the edge.

"No!" he bellowed, rushing forward.

She jumped.

He tackled her.

They both hit the dirt and skidded. Sam grabbed her around the waist, snatching at the dirt with one hand, trying to stop them both from flying over the drop. They slowed and stopped, Lynn half hanging over the edge, Sam's head poking out over the valley. Panting, his eyes wide, Sam struggled backwards with Lynn, rolling onto his back and then onto his stomach, dragging her away from the cliff.

She struggled underneath him. Sam gripped her arms, looking her in the eye. "Lynn!" he barked. "Come on! This isn't you. You don't give up like this."

"Just let me go!"

"This is Landon. Ok? He got in your head, he made you afraid… this is _not_ you. You don't have to do this!"

"Yes I do!"

"Lynn!" he thundered, letting go of her arms and snatching her by the face. "Snap out of it!"

She stared at him.

"You're going to be fine," he told her. "We're going to find out the truth about your mom. We're going to find the demon. We're going to stop the demon. Everything will work out fine."

Lynn shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, tears spilling over her bottom lashes. "You don't know that. Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not lying!" Sam shouted. "I don't lie to you, Lynn! I don't lie to you, and you don't lie to me!"

"I lie to you all the time!"

Dead silence. Sam stared at her. She closed her eyes again and drew a shaky breath. The tears were still spilling. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to speak gently.

"But we don't lie to each other about this," he said to her, trying to be calm. "Not about this stuff. Not about demons and hoodoo and questionable parents."

Slowly she opened her eyes. Sam stared, searching the deep dark brown for any signs of sanity, any hint that she might be calming down, that Landon's power was wearing off and the old Lynn was returning.

She sniffed. "We don't lie to one another," she repeated, her voice muffled. "Not about this."

"Right," Sam murmured. "I wouldn't do that."

Silence.

Sam swallowed. "You know you can't end it like this," he told her. "Jayne will be lost without you."

Another shaky breath.

"She and Dean will be tearing each other apart mere seconds after you're gone."

A small snort.

He smiled. "We'd all be lost without you. You keep us talking. You keep us together. We might yell at you, and give you the silent treatment, and tell you off for being pushy and annoying…"

She laughed a little.

"But without you around, being all pushy and annoying," Sam finished. "We'd fall apart."

More silence.

"Ok," she finally whispered.

Sam sat back, his fingers falling from her face. She lifted her head out of the dirt as he knelt beside her.

"Better?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. Better."

He watched her sit up. She tucked her hair behind her ears and took another deep, shaky breath. Her eyes met his.

"You're not going to jump again, are you?" he asked.

She stared. He smiled. Slowly, a grin ghosted at the corners of her mouth.

"No," she said. "I'm not."

He nodded. "Good."

They were quiet again.

"I'm sorry," she spoke up.

"It's not your fault."

"I know. I'm still sorry."

Silence again. Suddenly feeling awkward, Sam cleared his throat and stumbled to his feet. He brushed off his jeans and extended Lynn his hand. She took it, allowing him to haul her to her feet.

She dusted off her clothes. Sam pulled a few dry leaves from her hair. Lynn sniffed again, wiped her face, and then forced a small smile for him.

"We should go," he murmured. "Landon's still out there."

Lynn nodded. "Ok. Let's go."

He rested his hand on the small of her back, guiding her as they climbed the incline. They didn't speak. He stared at the back of her head. All sorts of odd, uncomfortable feelings were swishing around inside of him. There had been real fear back there, in the woods when he couldn't find her, on the cliff when she'd tried to jump. Real fear, real desperation, and real relief.

He'd meant the words he'd said. When it came right down to it, Lynn was the reason their whole dysfunctional foursome worked. Without her around to say all the things no one else was willing to say, their whole dynamic would fall apart.

It was more than that. This woman had been a real friend to him. She'd seen him through some not-so-pretty moments, and she'd forgiven him for things that, if the shoe were on the other foot, he might not have been able to forgive. The dance the two of them did – so straightforward and yet not straightforward at all – it had led them in and out of the bedroom, but no further. He was unable to move further. He couldn't even contemplate moving further.

But the panic at the drop off – it was impossible to deny. Sooner or later, Sam realized that this 'friends with benefits' arrangement would fall apart. One of them would want more, and the other wouldn't be able to give it. And when that happened… he was going to lose her friendship completely.

He hated that thought. Lynn understood him in ways other people couldn't. She didn't get him completely, of course. They were very different people. Still, she understood him at the level he needed to be understood at the most. When she was gone – he said when, because the idea that soon she'd be gone was slowly looking to be inevitable – when she was gone, he would lose that understanding.

He really couldn't lose that. Not now.

* * *

They'd finally found the junkyard.

Dean was the last one to duck out of the trees and into the clearing. The moon turned the grass an eerie blue color. Across the field, the same eerie light cast long shadows over a rectangular blob of a garage and the long line of rusty junked cars parked alongside it.

Ahead of him, Jayne and Danny were following the tree line, ducking in and out of the branches and bushes, headed for the tall wire fence surrounding the junkyard. Dean followed, careful not to make a sound, his eye on the clearing, searching for any sign of Landon Creevey.

"See anything?" Danny asked in low voice.

Dean glared at the back of his head. "No," Jayne answered quietly. "Shut up."

"I was just asking!"

Jayne dug her elbow into his side. "Be quiet," she ordered. "You'll give us away."

Danny grumbled something under his breath, but did as commanded. Dean stepped closer to the pair of them, eyes on the junkyard. Jayne glanced his way, and then eyed the trees behind them.

"We sure he came this way?" Dean asked irritably, trying to keep his voice down. "We left the trail."

"It's the only thing around for miles," Jayne muttered. "He knows the area. If he was laying a trap for us, this would be the place."

"The main road's down that dirt lane, up past the fence," Danny added. "Maybe one of us better head out that way."

"Maybe," Dean agreed, thumping the other man on the back. "Knock yourself out, Hannigan. We'll see you later."

Danny glowered at him. Jayne sighed. "No one's going anywhere," she said. "Everyone be quiet."

She brushed past them both, poking her way further along the base of the woods. Danny followed her immediately. Dean looked around them again, carefully checking for any sign of company, and then followed the other two hunters.

Jayne stopped short and Danny nearly collided with her. "Someone's up there," she whispered.

Dean frowned, following her gaze to the junkyard. He didn't see anything at first.

"Where?" Danny asked. "I don't see a damn thing."

Jayne shushed him, slapping him in the arm.

A shadow moved, dodging from the garage to a junked car, and then the shadow vanished.

"I saw it," Dean spoke quietly. "You're right. Someone's out there."

"You two are on drugs," Danny retorted.

"Shut the fuck up, Danny," Jayne snapped.

Her voice was too harsh, and her shoulders too tense. Dean frowned at her. So did Danny.

"Whoa, Gibson," Danny said. "Sorry. Calm down."

Dean watched her. He saw her frown. He saw her slowly loosen up, twitching her head to the side.

"Yeah," she murmured. "Sorry. I just… sorry."

Dean tore his eyes away and scanned the junkyard again. He had no doubts now that the shadow was Landon Creevey.

"All right," Dean took charge. "The kid's got to be up there, behind the fence. I say we move down a little more and then head for the garage. We got to be careful; get up and over the fence before he sees us."

"No shit, Einstein," Danny replied.

Dean glared.

"What the hell is your problem?" Jayne growled at her friend. "Don't talk to him like that."

Danny blinked. "What is _your_ problem?" he countered.

"You," she returned without hesitation.

"Me? What did I do?"

"You've been such a prig," Jayne snapped. "The whole time we've been here, you've done nothing but pick fights."

"Um… guys?" Dean said. "I think this might be a bad time?"

"Shut up," Jayne and Danny retorted at the same time.

Dean blinked.

"I am so sick of you," Jayne barreled on. "We barely talk for months at a time. We go years without seeing one another. And you have the nerve to act possessive. It's mind-blowing, really."

"Don't pin this on me," Danny rejoined. "It wasn't my idea to go for months without seeing you."

"Seriously," Dean frowned. "You two need to calm down, _right_ now…"

"Go to hell, Winchester," Danny interrupted.

"I said, don't talk to him like that," Jayne barked.

Danny chuckled bitterly. "Oh, I see. Sticking up for your boyfriend?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"Don't get too attached to her, Winchester," Danny pushed on. "This woman don't know the first thing about a relationship. She'll leave you on the side of the road sporting tire tracks before this side of a year is up, and she won't even look back."

_Crack!_

Jayne hauled off and punched Danny in the nose. Dean winced, hearing the bones break. Danny stumbled backwards into a tree, clutching his face.

"You _bitch!_" he roared. "You just broke my nose!"

Dean groaned, running his hand over his face. "Great," he griped, with an annoyed flourish of his arm. "Now the kid definitely knows we're here."

"Eye for an eye, Hannigan!" Jayne shouted. "You and I both know I owe you a few broken bones."

Danny laughed out loud. "Oh! That's rich! Now you're going to throw the demon thing in my face! Top notch, Gibson!"

"I'm going to throw more than that in your face, you son of a bitch!"

"All right!" Dean thundered, finally losing it. His own temper was starting to get the better of him. Now he stepped in front of Jayne, knocking her back as she charged Danny – whose nose was definitely bleeding.

"Will you two knock it off?" he bellowed. "You're playing right into that kid's hands! He's got you two all pissed off at one another and throwing punches… he's winning!"

"Stay out of this, Winchester!" Danny retorted.

"Shut up, you psycho hillbilly!" Dean hollered back. "I was pissed at you _long_ before Landon Creevey started playing mind games with any of us, so if I were you I wouldn't test me!"

"What are you going to do?" Danny taunted him. "You going to shoot me? Huh, Winchester?"

"Oh, please shoot him," Jayne said dryly.

"You want a piece of this, Gibson?"

"Damn straight I do!"

She threw her weight into Dean, who toppled to the side with a loud _oof!_ He hit the ground, gnashing his teeth.

"Damn it!" he roared, rolling over and leaping to his feet.

Jayne had already thrown herself into Danny, knocking him on his back. Dean ran at the pair of them as she collared the redheaded hunter by his flannel shirt and pummeled him in the face, her fist slamming into his jaw, his eye, his cheek…

Dean grabbed her around the waist and hauled her off Danny, dragging her out of the fight and throwing her against the trunk of a nearby tree. "Stop it!" he ordered.

She threw a punch at him instead. Dean ducked, narrowly missing a mouthful of knuckles. "Jayne!" he bellowed. "What the hell?"

"I hate you too!" she shouted, swinging again. Dean ducked a second time. "You're always in my face, telling me what to do, acting like you care about me…!"

Her fist caught him in the jaw. Dean stumbled back and hit the ground, lip stinging. He looked up at her as she advanced on him, struck by the wild gleam in her eyes. She looked more than angry – she looked half insane.

Jayne leapt on top of him, fists at the ready. Dean grabbed her legs and yanked, knocking her flat on her back and pinning her beneath him.

"Enough, damn it!" he yelled as she struggled. "You need to stop this, Jayne! This isn't you talking! Ok? Landon's in charge right now! You got to fight it!"

Truth be told, Dean was having a hard time fighting it himself. As he struggled with Jayne, exchanged barbs with Danny… the angrier they got, the angrier he got too. The rage was muddling his thoughts, making it difficult to talk down his companions. His fists were tensing… he wanted to hit something, anything at all…

_Bam!_

Dean grunted with pain as a hard body slammed into his left, knocking him off of Jayne and into the undergrowth.

"You don't touch her!" Danny roared, slugging Dean in his already smarting jaw. "She was my girl first! You don't get to… I'm going to kill you, Winchester!"

_Smack!_

A heavy branch caught Danny in the chest, knocking him backwards. Dean rolled out of the way as Danny hit the ground. Jayne tossed her branch to the side and jumped on top of Danny.

"I do not belong to _either_ of you!" she shouted, slugging Danny in the face.

Danny's hand shot out and backhanded her across the face. She toppled off his chest, hitting the ground beside him.

"_Bitch!_" Danny thundered.

Dean saw red. Already struggling with his anger, that one hit made him lose all control. Landon Creevey's mind mojo finally broke through Dean's defenses, and for a moment he lost his rational self.

He threw himself into Danny's side, knocking him back to the ground and clambering on top of him. His fist made contact with Danny's face – once, twice, three times – and then his hands closed around the other hunter's throat… vaguely he was aware that Jayne had joined the fray again and was punching them both…

_Bang!_

The gunshot echoed in the woods. Dean jumped, dropping Danny. Jayne started too, falling back on her knees and unclenching her fists.

"What the hell…?" Danny mumbled from behind a swollen lip.

Dean blinked in the direction of the gunshot. Clutching a shotgun, Stephen Juarez sauntered out of the brush, smirking a mile wide.

Instantly, Jayne's anger vanished. She leapt to her feet, stepping over Dean and Danny without even a look. "Steve?" she demanded. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The kid shrugged. "By the looks of it? Saving the day."

He flashed them all another toothy smirk.

"Holy crap, man," Danny muttered, slowly sitting up off the ground. "What the hell just happened?"

"Mind mojo," Stephen retorted. "Your boy Landon's hiding out here in the trees. I saw him run over from the garage as I was coming in. But then he disappeared, and, well… you three were totally killing each other, so…"

He shrugged again. "You all done now? The uncontrollable rage is passing?"

"Yeah," Jayne murmured. "Um… I think so."

"I'm good," Dean offered, getting to his feet. He gave his aching head a shake. The rage was passing now. He rubbed his neck, feeling sheepish.

Danny looked sheepish too. He got up, gingerly patting his face. "Damn it," he swore. "Gibson, Winchester, you both can go to hell. I feel like I got pummeled by Mohammed Ali."

Jayne was shuffling from foot to foot, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she said. "I, uh… well… I didn't mean it. Any of it. I just couldn't…"

"Yeah, yeah," Danny cut her off. "Me too."

Dean cleared his throat. "So… where'd that little bastard run off to?" he asked Stephen.

Stephen jerked his chin at the trees on their left by way of an answer. "Ready to hunt this guy down?"

"I don't know," Dean replied. "Can everyone agree to not hit one another?"

"No promises," Stephen smirked.

"Shut up, Steve," Jayne returned.

The kid only grinned wider as he led the way into the trees. The other three followed.

"I thought you left," Jayne said as they walked. "I thought you'd be halfway to Tijuana by now."

Stephen shrugged. "Yeah, well… I got to thinking about how bad you all suck at this hunting thing, so… figured I'd better come back. Make sure you all got out of here alive."

"Normally I'd kick your skinny ass for saying something like that," Danny spoke up. "But under the circumstances… thanks, kid."

"No problem, Danny boy. You owe me one."

Danny snorted and mumbled something threatening under his breath. Dean hid a smirk.

Though both Jayne and Stephen walked ahead of the other two, Dean noticed they didn't walk together. He knew the tiny family had argued earlier in the evening, which was why the kid left. It looked like whatever had gone down before Stephen had pulled out couldn't be erased simply by him coming back.

He heard the crack of a twig ahead of them. Stephen heard it too, because he froze and held up a hand to shush them.

Dean frowned, straining his ears, surveying the trees. He saw nothing at first. Then, another twig cracked. He turned, finding the source, seeing a blur of white move from one tree to a patch of bushes.

"Hey," he said, stepping forward. "Anyone else see that?"

"Yeah," Stephen agreed. "In the bushes. There."

He pointed. Then suddenly, Stephen was on the ground.

Danny had tackled him, knocking the shot gun from his hand. Stephen reached for it, but Danny grabbed it, tossing it away into the woods.

He slammed his fist into Stephen's head.

"Hey!" Jayne shouted, throwing herself into the larger hunter's side. She and Danny rolled, struggling with one another, until Jayne pinned him several feet away.

"You don't touch my brother!" she bellowed, slugging him in the face. "Do you hear me, Danny Hannigan?"

Dean headed for the pair of them, cussing under his breath. Then, the flash of white reappeared in his peripheral vision. He turned, starting for the blur.

He saw him duck out of the woods, running across the field towards the junkyard, his white tee shirt a neon sign in the moonlight. It was Landon.

"I'll get him!' Stephen called, already running for the junkyard. "Break them up!"

Then he was gone, rushing across the clearing. Dean considered running after the kid, but something Sam had said on the phone stopped him.

_I'm the only one he can't control…_

Stephen was like Sam, in a way. Maybe like Landon too. Maybe Landon couldn't control him either.

Stephen was still chasing Landon, who had reached the fence by now and was climbing over it. Behind Dean came the sounds of Jayne and Danny's scuffle.

Dean stomped over to them, grabbing Jayne around the waist and lifting her off Danny – for the second time that night. Danny groaned, rubbing his face, sitting up slowly.

"Aw, shit," he was muttering. "_Again_ – I did it again!"

"Put me down!" Jayne shouted.

Dean did put her down, but he didn't let her go. He took her by the arms and gave her a good shake. "Relax!" he ordered. "Danny's snapping out of it, your brother's chasing down the bad guy… you need to pull yourself together!"

She stopped fighting and stood still. Her mouth fell open. "My brother's what?" she asked dangerously.

Dean gestured towards the clearing. Jayne turned just in time to see her brother climbing to the top of the barbed wire fence and dropping down inside of it.

Immediately, Jayne took off running. Dean raced after her. Moments later, Danny followed too, limping as he jogged.

Poor bastard, Dean thought as he ran. The guy had gotten hit more than him and Jayne combined.

He kept chasing Jayne, leaving Danny behind. The two of them were halfway across the clearing, halfway to the fence now…

_Ba-boom!_

The explosion rocked the earth. Dean flew backwards, skidding on his rear in the dirt. His hands went up over his face, shielding himself from the debris. He lay still a moment, stunned and deaf, until his ears began to adjust and he could hear the crackle of the flames. Cautiously, Dean dropped his arms and lifted his head from the ground.

The garage and the surrounding grass were in flames. The fence had been knocked down. Dean swore, sitting up. He glanced at Jayne, who'd hit the ground beside him.

Her eyes were fixed on the fire. There was a tremble about her chin. Dean stared at her, swallowing. His stomach flipped.

Suddenly, she was on her feet, racing for the blaze.

Dean leapt up, chasing after her. The garage roof caved in, flaming hunks of wood and shingles falling to the ground around it. As they ran, the flames leapt higher, ripping their way through the junked cars; he could hear the tiny _pop-pop-pop_ as gas tanks erupted into mini-explosions… they got closer and he could feel the heat from the fire, smell the acrid smoke and the burning rubber and gasoline…

He tackled her. Jayne dug her elbow into his gut and tried to wrestle free, but he held her fast.

"_Let me go!_" she bellowed, fighting him tooth and nail.

"NO!" he thundered back, wrestling her into the dirt.

She struggled, trying to knock him onto his side. "_Now, damn it!_" she shouted as they rolled around on the ground, each trying to gain the upper hand.

"It's suicide!" he snapped. "You go in there? No way you're getting out again!"

"I don't care!" she hollered. "My brother's in there!"

She slugged him in the side and Dean nearly let go. Jayne tried to twist free, but Dean grabbed her again, wrapping his arms around her, squeezing her arms at her sides. She fought him, but he didn't let go. Finally, he felt her go limp – but he wasn't falling for that. He didn't loosen his grip.

Jayne lost her patience fast. Her fists pounded against his chest again. "_Let me go, you son of a bitch!_" she exploded.

He didn't. The fists kept coming, slowly losing their strength and speed when he kept clinging to her, pulling her tighter and tighter against him. Her face ended up in his chest. He could feel tears soaking through his shirt, feel her shaking shoulders, hear her whispering over and over again, "Please let me go, please let me go, please…"

Dean didn't let her go. He didn't loosen his grip. He threaded his fingers through her hair. Her fists fell at her sides, but he still didn't let go. He knew damn well the moment he loosened his grip, her strength would be back. She'd break free and be running towards the fire all over again.

He didn't speak, because there was nothing to say. That, he understood. He understood exactly why she was doing this. Still, he couldn't let her do it. He couldn't let her run in there any more than she could sit out here and watch her brother burn.

Footsteps squished in the mud behind him. Dean looked over his shoulder. Danny stood there. Beside him stood another young man, same age as Sam, with a shaved head and a goatee, wearing a leather jacket…

Dean's eyes went wide. Somehow, Stephen Juarez had escaped the fire.

The kid was covered in ash and looking guilty. His eyes were wide and watery. He stared at his sister for a moment, and then turned his eyes on Dean.

'Thank you,' he mouthed.

Dean nodded. He finally loosened his grip on Jayne, pulling her off his chest. His finger caught her chin, and he pointed her towards where her brother stood.

A startled yelp escaped her lips, and then she had shoved herself free from Dean and stumbled to her feet. She ran to her brother and threw her arms around the kid. Stephen hugged her back.

"Thank God," she murmured.

"I'm so sorry," Stephen whispered back.

Dean stood up slowly, dusting off his jeans. He glanced at Danny, who stood awkwardly behind the hugging siblings, his hands shoved in his coat pockets.

Jayne broke free from her brother, brushing soot off his jacket. "You all right?"

Stephen nodded. "Yeah. You?"

Dean watched her, seeing her duck her head with embarrassment as she wiped tears off her face. "Just fine."

Silence.

"We should head back," Dean spoke up.

Three heads turned his way. Stephen nodded first. "Right. I'll give you all a lift back to your car."

"And then?" Jayne asked sharply.

Stephen met her eyes and gave her a small smile. "You and I can meet these two back at the motel."

The tension seeped from her shoulders. She nodded, smiling too.

"Well, good then," Danny announced. "Uh… let's roll."

They made their way down the dirt lane that led from the now burning junkyard back to Royalton road, heading for the classic orange car parked several feet ahead. Danny dug his phone out of his coat and dialed.

"I'd like to report a fire on Royalton road," he said into the speaker.

Dean's phone rang.

Hastily, he answered it, remembering belatedly about his brother. "Sam?" he demanded into the phone. "Where the hell are you?"

"Uh… still in the woods."

"You all right?"

"Yeah. Lynn and I are fine. We're headed back towards the motel parking lot."

"Ok," Dean said, sighing with relief. "We'll meet you there."

"What about Landon?"

Dean bit the inside of his mouth and glanced over his shoulder at the burning garage. He knew, even without asking, that Stephen had left Landon inside there, somewhere in the blaze. There was no way the kid could have survived.

"It's been taken care of," Dean ground out from behind clenched teeth.

He hung up before Sam asked for details.

* * *

Lynn limped across the tavern parking lot, Sam at her side, headed for the motel. According to her cell phone, it was after four in the morning. Ahead of them, she could see Dean's Impala pulling into the motel parking lot.

Then, to her surprise, her brother's car swerved into the lot behind the Impala, and parked right next to it.

She froze and blinked. "He came back," she murmured faintly.

Sam frowned. "Sorry?"

"Steve," she replied, frowning right along with him. She gestured at the motel parking lot. "Steve must have come back."

Sam's eyes followed her finger, widening when he saw the bright orange Superbird parked beside the Impala. "Yeah," he said, sounding surprised. "Yeah, I guess he did."

Lynn felt a smile tug at her lips. She kept walking across the conjoined parking lots, eyes on the motel. Sam kept her pace easily. She suspected he was walking slower than he wanted to.

Dean had already climbed out of his car. Danny too had lumbered out of the passenger side of the Impala. As Lynn watched, her brother and sister exited the Superbird.

No one was yelling, no one was throwing punches… they were all silent, but Lynn would take silence over yelling now. She was in no mood for arguments.

Actually, she was bone tired. The scene out in the hills had sapped her strength. She could barely remember those painful moments. Could barely remember the fear, the panic, the desperate need to make it all go away…

It seemed a lifetime ago.

If Sam hadn't come when he did… it would have been a lifetime ago. She could barely remember it, almost couldn't believe she'd tried to throw herself over the side of a cliff.

She clung to the memory of Sam talking her down, clung to the words he'd said, the role he'd given her in their little group… the glue that held it all together. Sometimes she really thought no one cared about or noticed her. It was nice to hear different.

They stepped over the divide between the two parking lots, finally reaching the two cars and the four hunters leaning on them.

"Everybody ok?" Dean asked, his voice low.

"We're good," Sam replied, just as quiet.

"Danny!" Lynn exclaimed. "What happened to you?"

He shrugged and gave her a smirk. "Gibson broke my nose."

She blinked. She shrugged. She turned to her brother. "Steve?"

He fidgeted at the sound of his name. "Lynn."

She marched right up to him and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you for coming back."

He returned the hug. For a long time, he didn't push her away.

Dean cleared his throat, and Lynn reluctantly let her brother go. "We should probably get some shut-eye," the older Winchester announced. "Been a long night."

"I'll go with that," Danny agreed. "Got a broken nose to nurse, after all."

Jayne winced, speaking for the first time. "Sorry about that."

He shrugged. "You've done it before, and you'll do it again."

One last smirk and he was gone, headed for his motel room. Sam and Dean headed off too. Lynn made to follow them, but Jayne stopped her.

"Hold up a second," she murmured. "Steve's not going to stick around."

Lynn blinked, surprised. Stephen glanced guiltily at the pavement. "Why not?" she asked her brother.

Stephen sighed. "I came back to make sure you two were ok," he said. "But now that everything's done and over with…"

"You can't pull out yet," Jayne interrupted. "The three of us have got to get a few things straight."

Stephen leaned against his car, his expression half guilty and half exasperated. Lynn frowned at them both. "What exactly happened out there?" she asked.

Jayne shrugged. "Danny, Dean and I followed Landon out to this abandoned junkyard," she explained. "He got the better of Danny and I. The two of us got all pissed off and started whaling on each other. Dean tried to break us up, but then Landon got inside his head too… and then Steve showed up."

"The conquering hero," Stephen smirked.

Lynn rolled her eyes. "I'm sure," she retorted. "How did you even know where to find them?"

Stephen sighed. "Well, I was already on my way back when I got a call from Deedee."

"Deedee?"

"Yeah," Jayne spoke up. "Danny called her while we were in the hills. Asked her to find out what was in the area. Give us a better chance against Landon."

"And then she called me," Stephen went on, shaking his head. "Because she's nosy like that."

"Be glad she is," Lynn returned. "Go on. Finish the story."

"He broke us up, got us under control… and when we found Landon, Steve was the one who chased him down," Jayne went on. "And then…"

Her voice caught. Lynn frowned at her. Stephen picked up the story. "I chased him into the junkyard," he explained. "I cornered him. He tried to use his mojo on me, but…"

He trailed off, scratching at the back of his head. Jayne bit her lip and looked at the ground. Comprehension dawned on Lynn, about the same time a memory from earlier in the night came rushing back to her.

"It didn't work on you," she breathed.

Stephen frowned at her. "No," he agreed. "It didn't. How did you…?"

"It didn't work on Sam either," she hastened to explain. "I remember… in the parking lot, Landon tried to use it on us, but it only worked on me."

"Great," Jayne muttered. "So this is a demon thing."

"Wait," Stephen frowned. "So… you guys think Landon really was like Sam and I. You think the demon had something to do with his… abilities."

"I don't know," Lynn replied. "Maybe."

Silence.

"Damn it!" Stephen exploded. He swung out his foot and kicked the Impala's front tire. "That's just peachy."

"Steve," Lynn reprimanded him. "Not on the Impala. Dean will kill you."

"I don't care about the goddamn Impala," Stephen snapped. "I care that I'm a freak, Lynn, and apparently all the other freaks like me go on killing sprees using the power of their minds!"

More silence.

"That is not going to happen you," Jayne spoke up, her voice even.

"Oh really?" Stephen retorted. "Because I've already killed two people, Jayne. I killed that poor bastard back in Iowa, and tonight I killed Landon Creevey."

"Yeah, well those two were asking for it," Jayne replied.

"So? So what? What if the next two people aren't asking for it? What then?"

"That won't happen," Jayne stubbornly maintained. "I won't let that happen. You hear me? I won't let that happen to you."

They fell silent again. Lynn was the one who broke the stillness. "Neither will I," she murmured. "I won't let that happen either."

Stephen shook his head. Lynn could hear a break in his voice. "How can you stop it?"

"Well, for starters, we could do a lot more to help you if you were around than we could if you were hiding out in Tijuana," Jayne pointed out.

Stephen hung his head. Lynn bit her lip, watching him nervously. She feared another fight.

But Jayne surprised her. Her stepsister pushed herself off the Bird and came to Stephen's side. "Hey," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "You want to leave? I won't stop you."

There was no anger in her voice. No threats. Stephen raised his head, looking surprised. Lynn stared, equally stunned. "You mean that?" he asked.

Jayne nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"I don't understand…"

"I've been thinking a lot about what you've been saying," Jayne explained. "And I've decided that maybe you're right. Maybe you're entitled to some personal space. And the more I try to keep you around, the more determined you are to run away. So, all the crap I've been giving you… well, we both know it ain't helping."

Stephen was speechless. "Wait just one minute," Lynn snapped. "We're letting him go? Just like that?"

"No, not just like that," Jayne replied. "I'm tired of this crap you keep handing me about protecting us from those demons, Steve. All right? I don't want to hear anymore about it. Lynn and I are big girls. We're older and stronger and better than you. So we don't need you protecting us."

Stephen snorted, but Lynn could tell he was amused and not bitter. "Better than me, my ass. Who saved your butt tonight?"

"Listen up, kid, and listen good," Jayne barreled on. "I know you need to leave. I might not like it, but I know you need to do it. So I'm letting you go. But you don't get to ignore us. You're going to answer your phone and you're going to call us every once in a while so we know you're alive, and you're not going to lie to us anymore, or keep secrets. You're going to meet up with us every once in a while, and if you catch hide or hair of the demon, Lynn and I are the first people you call. Can you agree to that? Because I am not above hogtying you in the back of my truck."

"It goes both ways you know," Stephen replied.

Jayne blinked. "Excuse me?"

He shrugged, leaning on the car again. "It goes both ways. I can agree to all that, but you two have to promise the same."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lynn asked. "Are you suggesting we pull that crap on you? Because if I remember correctly…"

"Oh, calm down," he interrupted her. "I'm not accusing you two of all of it. I know I'm the worst offender here. But you two do some of that crap too, and you know it. You're overprotective. You lie and you keep secrets. So you have to promise the same stuff. I need to know that if you two find that demon before I do, you're going to call me. I need to kill that thing as badly as you do."

Silence. Lynn frowned at her stepsister. Jayne was staring at Stephen with the oddest look on her face. She seemed to be fighting with herself. Finally, though, she spoke.

"Ok," she agreed. "You got a deal."

He held out his hand and she shook it. Then he held it out to Lynn. Confused, she shook hands with Steve as well.

"Good," he said. "We've got a deal."

"Yep," Jayne agreed. "A deal."

"Sure thing," Lynn murmured faintly.

She had so much to tell her brother now, she realized. He still didn't know about so many things, and now that she'd promised to be straight with him… he didn't know about her mother. She'd have to tell him about her mother.

"I'm going to leave tonight," Stephen announced.

But apparently she wouldn't be telling him tonight.

"I know," Jayne told him.

"I didn't know," Lynn added. "But I guess I'll get over it."

He chuckled. Then he hugged her. Lynn squeezed him back.

"I'm going to miss you," he said into her hair. "Lynnette."

She pulled away and smacked him. "Jackass."

Stephen smirked again. He hugged Jayne next.

"Be careful, Jaynie."

"You too."

Lynn felt her eyes stinging as he pulled open the car door. He slid into the front seat.

"Later," he grinned.

"Bye," Lynn replied, taking a shaky breath.

"You better call," Jayne threatened.

"I will, I will."

The door shut. The engine turned over. Stephen waved one last time, and then he pulled out of the parking lot.

Lynn felt a tear creeping down her cheek as she watched his taillights disappear down the dark, winding road. "He'll be ok, right?" she asked.

"He better be," Jayne replied. "Or I'll kill him."

Lynn smiled. She put her hand on Jayne's arm.

They stood in the parking lot a minute longer, watching the road.

* * *

"So… you owe me an explanation."

The words hung ominously in the Winchester's motel room. Sam watched Dean's back muscles tense up. "An explanation?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Sam pushed. "What happened to Landon?"

Dean shrugged. He still hadn't turned around to face his brother. "He's gone."

"And by gone, you mean dead."

Dean shrugged again.

Sam shook his head. "Dean, I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?"

"You know what. Shrug it off. Act like it doesn't matter. It does matter, particularly to me."

Finally, Dean looked at him. Sam pleaded with his eyes. "Dean," he said again. "Tell me what happened."

"Why don't you tell me what happened?' Dean retorted. "You're the one who cornered him in the parking lot. You're the only one he couldn't control, remember? How about you explain what the hell that means?"

Sam blinked. Dean was glaring at him. For a moment, he couldn't think of anything to say. Finally, he gave a shrug of his own.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I don't know what any of it means. All I know is that back at the bar, Landon turned on his empath thing, and it didn't work on me."

"Empath thing?"

"That's what he called it," Sam explained. "He said he looked it up. That people like him were called empaths."

"People like him?"

"People who control other people's emotions."

"But he couldn't control yours?"

Sam hesitated. Then he shook his head.

Dean swore, pacing the room. "What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Sam?"

"I don't know, Dean," Sam snapped. "I'm not exactly comfortable with all this either. To tell the truth, it terrifies me."

Silence.

"You think this was a demon thing?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. I mean… Landon didn't have the same background as I did. No house fire. His mother didn't die. It doesn't look the same, but…"

"He couldn't control Stephen either," Dean interrupted.

Sam blinked. "What?"

"Stephen Juarez," Dean explained. "Out in the woods, by this old junkyard, where we all cornered Landon… I mean, the guy had all of us at one another's throats – me, Jayne, Danny – but not Stephen. Hell, if he hadn't shown up… Landon wouldn't have just gotten away, Sam. He'd have gotten the three of us to kill one another."

Silence again.

"All right," Sam spoke, trying to break the tension. "So… this psychic thing only works on certain people. Landon controls emotions, so… anyone like him is immune."

"Guess so."

Again, silence.

"So I really am like them," Sam murmured. "Max… Landon… Stephen and I are really like them."

"Hey, I can't speak for Steve," Dean returned. "But I know you, Sam, and I know you are nothing like those people. Max, Landon… they were bad news, Sam. They didn't just hurt innocent people; they hurt people they were supposed to love. You are nothing like them."

"But I could become like them," Sam replied. "Maybe not now, but sometime down the road…"

"No you couldn't."

"You don't know that, Dean. Circumstances change people. Max was beat up his whole life. Landon dealt with constant disappointment. Maybe I'm not like them now, but if something bad enough happened…"

"Stop it!" Dean thundered. "Nothing bad is going to happen, ok Sam? You are not going over to the dark side. Stop talking like that, right now!"

Sam stared at his brother. Dean was pissed, but mostly he was scared. Sam could see right through all the yelling and cussing and throwing things. He knew his brother was worried the same way he was. He knew Dean was putting up a front.

And he knew Dean was doing it because he loved him. He knew Dean wanted to protect him. He could appreciate that. He could almost be grateful.

But he didn't want a brave front right now. Dean's older brother act wasn't going to help him.

"Ok," Sam said. "I'll stop."

Silence.

"I'm going out," he announced. "Um… don't wait up."

Dean chuckled, but his heart clearly wasn't in it. The devious smirk didn't reach Dean's eyes. "Oh, I see. Going over to Lynn's?"

"We're just friends."

"Right. You're friends. Friends who fuck."

"Don't wait up," Sam said again.

Then he ducked out the door, and made a beeline for Lynn's motel room.

* * *

Jayne followed her stepsister back towards the motel and down the long outdoor hall, her thoughts jumbled. All she could see was fire and taillights. She wanted to lie down in her bed and never get out of it.

One of the doors in the long row creaked open. "Hey, Gibson."

She stopped, turning at the sound of Danny's voice. "Hey," she said.

"Could you, uh… help me with something?"

Jayne rolled her eyes. "Take off your own pants, Danny."

He chuckled. "But you're so much better at it."

She raised an eyebrow. He sobered up.

"I need help with my nose."

Instantly, all her Danny-related guilt came flooding back. "Oh," she said. "Yeah, ok."

She looked over her shoulder at Lynn, who was standing two feet ahead of her. "Go on ahead."

Lynn shrugged. "Ok. Goodnight, Danny."

"Night, Lynn."

Her sister disappeared in the direction of their motel room. Jayne stepped inside Danny's dimly lit, depressingly green room. He shut the door behind her and took a seat at the small table in the corner. Earlier that day, the table had been littered with file folders and notes. Now it supported an assortment of gauze and bandages, and a bottle of whiskey.

He sat down in one of the chairs. "I can't reset it," he admitted sheepishly. "It hurts."

She smirked. "Baby."

"This is all your fault," he pointed out. "Be a pal, and help a guy out with minimal mockery."

He smirked back at her. Jayne sighed, feeling the guilt prickling in her gut again. "Right," she murmured. "Sorry."

She came over to the table. "On the count of three. One…"

Jayne grabbed his nose and yanked it back into place. Danny hollered in pain.

"Goddamn it!" he bellowed. "I thought we were counting to three!"

She shrugged, offering him a smile. "Sorry. I just thought it'd be better if you weren't expecting it."

He glared at her and took a swig from the whiskey bottle. "Evil harpy."

"Harpy," she repeated thoughtfully. "That's a new one."

Silence.

"Hey," Danny said, suddenly awkward. "Look, I'm sorry. I said some shitty things up in those hills. Not all of them were true."

He smirked again.

She smirked back, and then turned serious. "I'm sorry too. I said plenty of shitty, mostly untrue things to you, too. Also, I broke your nose."

"No need to remind me. Still smarting over here."

"It was the kid," she said. "Landon and his… emotion-controlling thing. Not us."

Danny nodded. "Not us," he agreed. "At least, not entirely us."

She nodded back. They lapsed into yet another silence.

"I'm going to head out in the morning," Danny spoke up. "Probably before any of you are up. So… I guess I'll just say goodbye now."

She nodded again. "Ok. Um… goodbye, Danny. Be safe. Don't die."

He rolled his eyes. She smiled. "Roger that," Danny replied. "And back at you."

He stood up. She stared up at him for a moment, still feeling that guilt. She ought to have told him, she kept thinking to herself. She ought to have told him about it all – the riot and the visions and the demon…

Danny hugged her.

Jayne froze up, not expecting the hug. It was one thing to hug her brother right after he escaped a fire that should have been fatal. But hugging Danny… hugging was always weird. Still, she made herself hug him back.

"Be good," he grunted.

"You be good," she retorted.

They pulled apart. "I'll be in touch," Danny promised.

"Me too."

He followed her to the door. She stepped outside.

"I really am sorry," she said again.

He smiled, knocking his fist against her shoulder.

"Don't sweat it."

Then he shut the door.

Jayne stood there a moment longer, staring at the dark green paint.

Then she pulled herself together. Tried to ignore the guilt. Tried to forget the hills. Tried to forget all about Landon Creevey.

With a deep breath, she turned and headed for her room.

* * *

Sam was standing at the door when Lynn finally reached her room.

She stopped short and stared at him. He pushed himself off the wall and mussed his hair with one hand. "Hey," he greeted her, sounding hesitant.

"Hey," she said back, frowning a little. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah."

Lynn stared at him, not believing a word. "Right."

Everything was not ok. She saw that immediately. She'd already been feeling that way. Her brother had left them on good terms for once; that was true. He'd promised to keep in touch. Jayne had actually let him go. There had been minimal arguing.

She already missed him. Funny, because for the past eight months, she'd done nothing but miss him. She should be used to him going away, but she still wasn't. Lynn wanted him here with her, where she could watch him and talk to him and…

But he was gone, and Sam was here. Apparently, Sam needed her, because he was standing outside her motel room door with his hands in his coat, looking sheepish and nervous and just plain troubled.

"It didn't work on Steve either," she said, because she knew exactly what was troubling him.

He blinked and tried to cover. "What didn't work?"

"Landon's mojo."

Silence. Sam nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "Dean said."

More silence. Lynn took a step closer. "You know your life is messed up when some emotion-controlling psychopath _can't_ mess with your head, and you're somehow convinced that's a bad thing," she tried to joke.

"I think it means we're connected," Sam murmured, staring at his shoe. "And I don't want to be connected to them – to Landon and Max…"

"I don't want Stephen to be connected to them either," Lynn replied. "I don't want either of you to be connected to that… that demon."

Silence again. "He left," Lynn added.

"Stephen?"

She nodded. "Yeah. He left. But not in a bad way this time. We said good-bye and everything."

"But you still wish he'd stayed?"

Lynn took a deep, shaky breath. "Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, I do."

They stared at each other.

"I couldn't be in that room," Sam admitted. "Dean… he tries so hard, but… he doesn't help."

Lynn swallowed. She nodded again. "I get that."

He stepped closer. His breath caught. "Lynn, I…"

"I don't want to talk," she interrupted suddenly.

Sam stopped. He blinked, opening his mouth and then closing it again. "Ok."

"Do you want to talk?" she asked.

He stared. She watched him think about the question. He really did think about it. His brows puckered together and he stared at the pavement.

"No," he said suddenly, looking up with bright, suddenly informed eyes. "I don't."

"Good," she replied.

She stepped into him and grabbed him by the arms. Sam leaned down, hesitant.

Lynn closed the gap, pulling him into her and pressing her lips against his. They came together slowly at first, and then Sam's arms were around her waist, lifting her off the ground. His lips smashed hungrily into hers.

Fingers fumbling, she unlocked the door behind her back, Sam's hands still on her, his lips still pumping against hers. The door flew open and the two of them stumbled inside. He lifted her off the ground again, his mouth crashing back down on top of hers.

The door slammed behind them. They fell onto her bed. Zippers and buttons came undone, and the clothes came peeling off. Lynn lost herself in the warmth of his body and the heat of his kisses, happy to forget, happy to concentrate on him alone, and suspecting he too was trying to lose himself.

After all, he never came to her for any other reason. She wasn't a fool. She knew what she really was to him. He cared about her, she knew, but when they came together this way, it was never about her. It was always about something else. Something he needed to forget. And that was all right with her, she was ashamed to admit. It was all right because he was choosing to lose himself in her.

* * *

When Jayne reached her room, the door was shut and the lights were out. For a moment, she assumed Lynn was sleeping. But when she stepped up to the door, she heard the noises.

A mattress creaking. Muffled moans. Soft murmuring.

"Ew," she whispered, dancing back from the door. "Oh, gross. Did not need to hear that."

She shook her head, marveling at how her stepsister and Sam Winchester could spend all night running around the hills and still be up for a round of horizontal hokey-pokey. Blow her mind.

Mostly, she was annoyed. Her bed had sounded so promising. Now, she was locked out.

There was only one place to go, and she really dreaded going there. Still, she headed down to Dean's door.

The TV was going. It sounded like one of those old horror movies he liked so much. Jayne took a deep breath, steeling herself. She knocked on the door.

There was a pause. She heard the click of the deadbolt and the slide of the chain. The door swung open.

"Hey," Dean said, leaning against the doorjamb.

She swallowed. He was down to his tee shirt and boxers. "Hey," she said, eyes on the sidewalk.

He stared at her. She took a deep breath and made herself meet his eyes. "Um… your brother and Lynn are kind of…"

"Yeah," he interrupted. "I figured."

Silence.

"Can I crash here?" she asked.

He nodded and stepped back from the door. "Come on in."

She stepped over the threshold. His bed was tousled, but Sam's was neatly made. The lights were out and _Godzilla_ was on the TV. There was an open beer on the nightstand.

Dean shut the door and crossed to the mini-fridge. "Beer?" he asked.

She nodded. "Thanks."

He handed her the cold glass bottle and then sat down on his bed. She perched herself on the side of Sam's bed as he lifted his beer from the nightstand and took a heavy swig.

Silence. Jayne twisted off her bottle cap and drank. Dean stared at the TV. Godzilla disappeared and was replaced with a life insurance commercial.

"I owe you an apology," she said suddenly.

Dean stared at her. She stared back.

"You usually do," he agreed after a while. "But, uh… kind of used to not getting one."

Silence.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Dean stared at her again.

She forced herself to look at him. "I shouldn't have said those things."

"In the woods."

"No… that wasn't me… that was… I meant before."

Another silence. They stared. Finally, he nodded.

"I was out of line too," he said. "I mean… you weren't entirely wrong."

She shook her head. "I think I was."

Silence again. She took another drink of her beer.

"I'm sorry too," Dean offered.

She nodded.

"We good now?" he asked.

Again, she nodded. "We're good."

They were quiet for a little while. Suddenly, she shook her head.

"Actually, we're not."

Dean started. He looked at her with wide eyes. "We're not?"

"No," she said. "No… I… Dean, you… uh…"

She struggled with the words. In her head, it had seemed clear what needed to be said, but actually saying it turned out to be difficult. Dean stared at her for a little bit, and then spoke up.

"Any time now, Goldilocks. Not getting any younger here."

Jayne sighed. "I don't know how to do this."

He frowned. "Do what?"

"Just… you're always there."

Silence. Jayne fidgeted, trying to find more words.

"I mean… you always try to… help me."

Dean stared. That only made her more flustered.

"I… I don't know how… I don't how to let people help me."

More silence. Then Dean nodded. "I get that."

"I thought you might."

"Hey, now."

"Look… I'm probably not going to get a whole lot better at it."

"So I should stop?"

His voice was cold now. Jayne wanted to shiver. "No… I mean… only if you want to."

Again, he stared. "I mean, I'd understand why you'd want to stop," she hastened to explain. "I don't make it easy. I know I don't make it easy. Like yesterday, with Danny… or tonight, with the fire…"

Silence. She swallowed. "I just… I don't know how to… you're my best friend."

He kept staring at her. Jayne could feel herself starting to blush. "You are," she went on. "Sorry, if that's weird. But… I've never had a friend like you. I've never let myself have a friend like you. I'm not even sure how we got to this place. I know I didn't try to get here. I don't think you did either."

"Guilty," he agreed.

She nodded. "Right. But we are here. Aren't we?"

He stared again, but just for a moment. He nodded back. "Yeah. I guess we are."

"Ok," she said. "So… I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"I… I'm stubborn, and I'm defensive and I'm kind of a hermit."

He chuckled.

"I want to be better at this," she told him. "I'm trying. Ok?"

He nodded. "Yeah, well… for the record? I'm obnoxious."

"True," she agreed.

He gave her a dirty look, but continued anyway. "I'm stubborn too. And defensive. And I'm not good at this either."

She nodded.

"I'm trying too," he finished.

Silence. He rubbed his thumb along the label on his beer bottle. She stared at his hand, clutching her own beer, still perched on the edge of Sam's bed.

"I think you're my best friend too," he added.

She looked up, startled.

He shrugged, and drank from the beer. "You are," he said. "Like tonight, when you… I had to stop you."

She fidgeted, staring at the carpet instead of his hand.

"I knew you didn't want me to. I even understood why. If the tables had been turned, I wouldn't want you to stop me either."

"I would have," she whispered.

"Yeah, I know. Anyway… I just really had to stop you."

They lapsed into silence again. Jayne was the one who broke it.

"So…" she said, sliding back onto the bed and swinging her legs up onto the mattress. Her back hit the headboard as she drank another gulp of beer. "Godzilla?"

He nodded, drinking with her. "Yep."

They watched the rest of the movie without speaking a word, but this time it was comfortable. And when it was over and Jayne finally went to sleep, she felt better than she had since the start of the whole damn hunt.

For once, it really felt like everything was going to be ok.

* * *

It was bright the next morning. Sam squinted against the sun, too tired to have that much light shining in his eyes. They'd all been up late last night, and they'd gotten up too early that morning.

He sucked down his coffee, leaning against the Impala. It was warm, so warm he'd shucked off his jacket. Dean too was jacket free, nursing his own coffee, sitting on the hood of his car.

The asphalt sparkled under the sunlight. A few fluffy white clouds streaked the horizon, but the sky was mostly clear and blue – so blue it could have been fake, as though someone had taken a paintbrush to the sky. In this light, the hills weren't as green as he thought they'd be. They were mostly muddy brown.

The Superbird was gone, but Sam had expected that. Before he'd been with Lynn last night, she'd told him Stephen left. What he hadn't anticipated was the absence of Danny Hannigan's big black Harley. Danny must have left the night before, too.

Lynn was lounging in the bed of Jayne's pickup, next to her duffel, sipping coffee like the rest of them. Her wavy black hair was loose, the wind whipping it in her face, and she was leaning comfortably against the back of the truck cab with one knee bent, her arm perched on the side of the bed.

She smiled at him. He smiled back, because it was a pretty morning, and he felt a lot better now than he had the night before. Anyway, he wasn't in the mood for awkward.

Jayne flew out of her motel room, duffel over her shoulder and a coffee in her hand. Sam watched as she tossed the bag in the back of her truck, narrowly missing her stepsister. Lynn jumped, shielding her coffee cup.

"Watch it," she complained.

"Sorry," Jayne returned, taking a sip of her own coffee. "Any thoughts on where we head next?"

"Nope," Dean said.

"Don't care," Lynn murmured lazily.

"Excellent," Jayne replied.

"Why?" Sam asked. "You have in something in mind?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," she said. "Who wants to go to New York?"

Everyone stared at her. Lynn was the first to speak.

"New York?" she repeated. "As in… Brooklyn?"

"Yep," Jayne answered. "Brooklyn. We snoop around a little, check out some old addresses, ask around the city records office… find out what we can about your mom."

Silence. Sam blinked, and then he looked at Lynn. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth was puckered up in a half frown.

"Um…" she stuttered. "I… I guess that would be… good."

Jayne nodded. "Anyone else?"

"I'm ok with that," Sam replied, although he was still adjusting.

"Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "Works for me, Goldilocks."

Sam studied him, surprised at both his answer and his tone. Dean seemed… not pissed anymore. Imagine that.

"All right then," Jayne returned, headed for the driver's seat. "Let's go."

She hopped in the cab and started the truck.

Lynn looked nervous. She was still wearing her confused frown as she clambered out of the truck bed and headed around to the passenger seat.

Dean slid into the Impala and started the engine. Sam took his seat beside him. Jayne backed up her truck and turned around, wheeling out of the motel parking lot.

"We're ok with this?" Sam asked as they followed her.

"Yep," Dean replied. "Why wouldn't we be?"

Sam nodded. "So you two made up then?"

"No idea what you're talking about, Sammy."

Sam snorted. Dean smirked and popped a cassette in the tape deck. Sam shook his head as Dean's tired old ACDC album started up.

"I'll bet," Sam said, settling back into his seat.

Dean shrugged, still smirking, and started singing along to the music.

"Also, don't call me Sammy," Sam added.

"Shut up," Dean returned. He smirked wider. "Bitch."

Sam couldn't help a smile.

"Jerk."


	52. Refugee

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to MythsndLegends, krenee321, Nelle07, hornblowerarchiekennedyfan, Leila, angeleyenc, BlueEyedPisces, AshlynPaige92, Lov3good, ks90, Nehasupnfan, ColtFan165, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, and wizziewoo123 for all the reviews!

PS: In response to MythsndLegends' question, Steve's full name is pronounced like Steve-en. You were right the first time. ;)

* * *

Chapter 52: Refugee

It was ten pm, and the small townie bar was experiencing its primetime rush. Kids from the nearby college and locals of all ages had packed the long, narrow alley-like place. The lighting was low, its primary source being the track lighting illuminating the liquor shelf behind the bar, and a large red neon sign. There was a local band playing live at the back of the bar.

A beer in one hand and a shot in the other, Lynn squeezed her way through the floor traffic and finally flopped down at a table in the back.

Her sister and the Winchester boys were still at the bar, ordering their drinks. The small bar was _not_ in NYC, but in a tiny town several miles north. The four of them had already spent a week in Brooklyn before pulling out earlier that evening, after Lynn had finally thrown in the towel. They'd overturned every rock in the whole damn city, and not a single thing had surfaced about her mother.

Lynn dropped her shot glass into her beer. As the drink began to fizz and foam, she immediately sucked the beer down her throat, draining the glass before too much could spill on the table. Wincing, she swallowed the last of it and slammed the beer mug down. The shot glass clinked inside.

"Wow."

She turned at the voice. Sam was standing behind her, a beer in his hand and a stack of newspapers under his arm, raising an eyebrow at the empty glass.

"Did I just watch you do that?" he asked, a small, bemused smile on his face.

Lynn shrugged. "Yep."

He whistled and took the seat across from her. "And here I thought people only did that on comedy films about frat houses."

"You learn something new every day."

"Right." Sam shook his head and gestured at the spilled beer, still holding his newspaper collection aloft. "Mind wiping that up?"

She rolled her eyes and swabbed the table clean with a cocktail napkin. Sam set his stuff down and began leafing through the papers.

"Really?" she asked.

He frowned. "What?"

"You're working right now?" she retorted. "We're in a bar, Sam. It's packed with primetime patrons. And you're reading the Hudson Valley Times?"

Sam swept judgmental eyes around the bar and shrugged. "Looks like."

"Here's beer number two, you lush," Jayne suddenly drawled, plunking another glass of beer on the table in front of her. Lynn snatched it up and took a big gulp as her stepsister took a seat beside her, nursing a beer of her own.

Jayne cocked an eyebrow at the empty mug. "There's a shot glass in there," she observed.

Lynn shrugged. "Mm-hmm," she murmured with her mouth full.

"So I guess that explains why the table's all sticky."

"It was like that when I got here."

Jayne rolled her eyes, and then started in on Sam. "You're the reading the newspaper? Here?"

"Why is everyone on my case all of a sudden?" Sam asked, exasperated. "I thought we made this pit stop to catch a few hours sleep and check out possible jobs, not to get drunk in a bar."

"Speak for yourself," Lynn retorted. She took another heavy swig from beer number two. "Anyone want to do whiskey shots?"

"I don't know," Jayne returned. "Is this a Western? Are we gunslingers?"

"I hate you," Lynn replied.

"Here," Sam said suddenly, flourishing his newspaper at them. "I think I found something. The Teluscas, a couple from New Paltz, NY. They were found in their beds, throats slashed, doors and windows all locked from the inside."

Jayne snatched the paper from him and frowned at the column in question. "No prints and no leads," she murmured.

Sam nodded distractedly, waving at Dean across the bar. "Exactly."

Lynn glanced over her shoulder at the elder Winchester as Sam continued trying to get his attention. Dean was still at the counter, leaning on a stool and smirking his nauseating pick-up grin at a seriously skanky brunette. Finally noticing Sam's gestures, Dean murmured something to the girl and then sauntered over to the table.

She couldn't help noticing Jayne's raised brow as she eyed the chick Dean had left behind. When Dean reached their table, Jayne quickly lowered her eyes.

Lynn rolled hers.

"All right," Sam announced as his brother put the beers on the table. "I think I've got something."

"Yeah, me too," Dean replied, his voice full of innuendo. Lynn cocked an eyebrow at the elder Winchester as he shot a suggestive glance back at the brunette. "I think we need to take a little shore leave. Just a little. I opened the door with this girl back there…"

"So what are we today, Dean?" Sam interrupted. "Rock stars? Army Rangers?"

"We're reality TV scouts looking for people with special skills."

Sam laughed out loud. Dean couldn't help a snicker of his own. Lynn rolled her eyes at Jayne, who just shook her head and took a sip of her beer.

"But hey," Dean said. "It's not that far off, right?"

"Are you kidding me right now?" Lynn retorted. "How is that _not_ far off? Really, explain it to me."

"Can it, buzz kill," Dean replied before returning his attention to Sam. "You know, she's got a friend over there. I could maybe hook you up."

Lynn looked at the brunette again. She had been joined by an even skankier blonde.

"No thanks," Sam returned. "I can get my own dates."

"You can, but you don't."

Sam blinked. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Dean covered. "What have you got?"

Lynn couldn't help but glower at the older Winchester brother. What Sam had, she thought bitterly, was _her_. He had her. He _always_ had her. Back in Texas, and then again in Wisconsin, and West Virginia, and a few nights in Brooklyn… and yeah, there had been that time in Nebraska too, although technically it didn't count because it had happened before they'd made their arrangement…

She sipped her beer, fighting back a sigh. The arrangement was simple. They were friends. Sometimes, they had sex. And that was all. Sam was completely free to sleep with anyone he wanted, and the only reason she was upset – she told herself – was because she was starting to feel the buzz off that boil-maker.

Lynn shook her head clear and tuned back into the conversation, just in time to catch the end of Sam describing the Telusca murders.

"….. no prints, no murder weapons, doors and windows were all locked from the inside," he finished.

Lynn looked to Dean, who didn't seem impressed. "Could just be a garden variety murder," he shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. "You know, not our department."

Sam shook his head and whipped out John Winchester's old leather journal. "Dad says different."

Interest peaked, Dean dropped into a chair. "What do you mean?"

"Look. Dad noted three similar murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one, up here, in 1912, the second one in 1945, and the third in 1970. The same MO as the Teluscas. The throats were slit, the houses locked from the inside. Now, so much time passed in between the murders that no one connected the pattern – except for Dad. He always kept his eyes peeled for another one."

"And now we got one."

"Exactly."

"All right, I'm with you," Dean nodded. "Sounds worth checking out. We _can_ put this off until first thing?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah."

"Good," Dean smirked.

Then he was out of his chair and making a beeline for the bar and the brunette.

Lynn sighed, shaking her head after him. "Unbelievable."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, before frowning at her. "Except I thought you were here to have fun too. Now you're all about the hunt?"

She snorted. "Of course not. I'm just judging Dean and his one-night hookups."

Jayne choked a little on her drink. She stared at Lynn with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"What?" Lynn demanded.

Jayne shook her head. "Nothing at all. Just appalled by your hypocrisy."

Lynn narrowed her eyes at her stepsister. Jayne was one to talk. She could make any number of remarks about Jayne's own indiscretions, or she could just casually observe the way Jayne's eyes kept straying towards Dean and the bimbo twins. Instead, she opted for silence. Jayne's snarky comments might be annoying, but tonight, Lynn was in no mood for an argument.

"I'm going to head out," Sam said suddenly. "Do a little research before tomorrow."

"What?" Lynn asked. "Don't do that. Stay."

"Look, maybe the bar scene is fun for you guys," Sam replied. "But it's just not really my thing, ok? I'd rather get a head start on the hunt."

Jayne raised her eyebrow. "How much of a head start can you get at ten pm?" she asked.

Sam shrugged. "I can do some research."

"Research can wait."

"Yeah, but it can also get done right now."

"Oh, Sam," Lynn rolled her eyes. "I know you're our resident stick-in-the-mud, but can't you take _one_ night off?"

"I don't want to…"

"One night won't kill you," she wheedled on. "A few drinks, a little dancing, some conversation that for once isn't ghost or demon related… I mean, take a break before you give yourself a heart attack."

Sam pursed his lips. "I am _not_…"

"You're a workaholic," she interrupted him. "And workaholics stress themselves out, and then they have heart attacks."

Sam frowned. "I'm not sure that's entirely factual…"

"Whatever. Just have another beer."

She stared him down, challenging him to relax. Sam looked torn, his eyes going from her to the door and back to her again. It wouldn't be the end of the world if he walked out right then, but Lynn really wanted him to stay. She liked company when she drank. Without company, she had a tendency to get trapped in her own thoughts, and her thoughts were very bad right now… thoughts about Brooklyn and her mother and that ratty apartment where she'd lived and died, and all the creepy thoughts that went along with it…

Jayne sighed, tearing Lynn from her inner monologue. "Lynn's pseudo-science aside… she and your brother are right. Kind of."

"What?"

"Sam, you're allowed to have a little fun every once in awhile," Jayne pointed out. "If Dean wants to pick up reality star wannabes, you don't have to automatically close yourself up in your motel room and do research all night."

Sam made a face. Jayne gave him half a smile. "You don't have to embrace Dean's version of fun either," she added. "But you could stick around and have a beer or two with us. I'm sure one night at a bar won't be the determining factor in the end of the world."

Sam sighed. "You two aren't going to let up, are you?"

Lynn smirked, recognizing he was giving in. "Nope," she returned.

"Actually, I probably will," Jayne said. "I'm not all that invested in the argument."

"Shut up," Lynn told her sister. She watched Sam with hopeful eyes. Her mood was sour, her instinct was to drink, and she liked drinking best when she had company.

"Please, Sam?" she asked. "One more beer?"

He sighed again. "Fine. One more beer."

Lynn grinned. He took a heavy gulp from the drink still at the table and then glanced at the bar, as though anxious to get beer number two done and over with. It didn't matter. She'd find a way to keep him, and then the three of them could have some fun for once in their lives. Anything to take her mind off Brooklyn and her mother, off her father's lies and omissions, off their complete and utter lack of information.

Not to mention, the distinct creepy feeling that ever since she'd left her mother's old apartment, someone had been watching her. That idea was the one she'd like to forget the most.

* * *

_Brooklyn, five days earlier…_

Lynn stood before the stoop outside of Inez Rodriguez's old apartment building, squinting up at the top floor window. The place was a run-down, red brick building no more than four stories off the ground, looking particularly dingy set against the cloudless blue sky. All the windows were stained and smeared with dirt, and the sidewalk under her feet was cracked.

She bit her lower lip, nervously threading her fingers together. Sam stood next to her, staring at the door. He glanced her way.

She averted her gaze, not wanting to make eye contact. She was having trouble summoning up the courage to knock on the door. They all knew it too. She chanced a glance at Jayne, who was leaning against the building. Her stepsister raised her eyebrow.

Dean's harsh sigh echoed from behind her. Lynn looked his way, only to see him pressing past her impatiently. He knocked on the door for her.

She stared at him. He smirked at her, shrugging. She repressed the urge to smack the smirk right off his face.

The Korean man who answered the door introduced himself as Mr. Chen. He was an elderly man with a thick accent, stooped over and wearing glasses, his every other word punctuated with asthmatic wheezing.

"She don't live here no more," Mr. Chen told them when Lynn asked him about her mother. "She threw herself out that window, right there, over twenty years ago."

He stepped off the stoop and pointed at the top window, right over the door.

Lynn shuddered, staring at the window again.

"No one will take the room now," he went on. "It's been empty for five years. Everyone always complaining about noises and smells. Crazy talk. There's no noises, and certainly no smells. I run a clean place."

He didn't, if the windows were anything to judge by. Lynn swallowed, wondering about the noises and the smells, hoping for something she shouldn't hope for.

"Can we see the place?" she asked.

"No, no," he said, shaking his head. "There's only one bedroom. Four people can't live up there."

"I don't want the room," she clarified. "It's just that my mother was Inez, the woman who threw herself out the window."

It actually hurt to say those words. She choked on them. But surprisingly, Mr. Chen turned sympathetic after hearing that. He murmured a few condolences, and then led them upstairs.

The first thing she noticed when they walked through the door was the emptiness. Mr. Chen headed back downstairs, leaving them alone. Lynn gazed all around the dusty, musty, furniture-less room,

Dean whipped out the EMF reader, swinging it in all directions. She eyed him for a moment. Nothing came up on the reader, so she headed for the bedroom.

She heard footsteps behind her. Sam had followed her into the other room. Lynn glanced at him. He offered her a smile.

Lynn tried to smile back, but her heart wasn't in it. She moved deeper into the room.

"My mother threw herself out the window," she said.

Sam nodded. "Mr. Chen seems to think so."

She nodded back. What was there to say, really? She moved away from him, wondering to the window, and then to the closet.

"What do you think?" Sam asked suddenly.

He must mean her mother. Lynn shook her head. "I don't know what to think."

Silence.

"I don't know about you guys," Jayne announced from the kitchen. "But this place definitely smells."

Lynn fought a small smile. She headed out into the living space, Sam on her heels. "Not like sulfur," Sam pointed out.

"No," Jayne agreed. "Not like ozone either. But still – it definitely stinks in here."

Dean stopped short by the living room window. "Bad news guys," he said. "EMF's no good."

"Why not?"

Dean gestured at the window. Sam joined him, immediately spotting the transformer strapped to the electric pole right outside the window.

"Thing's too close," Dean said. "It's messing up my readings – which weren't very promising to begin with."

Sam sighed, shaking his head. "We're not getting anywhere, are we?"

"Nope."

Lynn turned away from the two brothers, exhaling. Frowning at the wall behind her, she ran her fingers over it. She examined her fingertips, sniffing at them. Nothing but dust.

She looked up. Jayne had come around the kitchen island and into the living room. She was leaning against the counter, arms folded over her chest. Lynn met her eyes. Jayne cocked her eyebrow again.

Lynn tore her eyes away. She took another look around the apartment. Still empty, still dusty, cobwebs still hanging in the corners.

"There's nothing here," she murmured.

Her voice echoed in the silent, empty space. The other three stared at her.

Lynn fidgeted under their eyes. She took a step towards the door. "It was a stupid idea coming back here anyway," she said. "Whatever evidence might have been here twenty-three years ago is long gone by now."

Silence. They all kept staring at her. She shook her head. "Let's just go," she finally said, turning and jogging for the door.

"Lynn!" she heard her stepsister call.

Lynn ignored her and ran for the stairwell. She flew down the stairs and right out the front door of the apartment building, stopping short when she hit the curb. Trying to catch her breath, she leaned on a light post for support.

Brooklyn was crammed with people and cars and the air was always filled with yelling and honking horns. It was a zoo, and getting from one side of the place to the other had been a constant hell since they'd arrived. Here, on this particular street, it was quieter somehow. She could still hear the distant traffic, but no cars came roaring down the dead-end road. Few people were out walking. Most of the businesses and other buildings were boarded up.

She looked around her. There was no one around, not that she could see. Yet suddenly, she was very aware of a presence.

Someone was watching her. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Lynn glanced all around her, squinting against the sunlight, trying to find the spying person, but still she couldn't see anyone. She could feel the eyes boring into her back, but she couldn't find them.

A shadow moved in the corner of her eye. Lynn whirled around to look, but the shadow was gone. No one was there, nothing was moving. The little boarded up shop she found herself staring at was deserted.

She shivered.

"Lynn!"

Lynn jumped, turning at the voice. Jayne was standing beside her, a concerned frown on her face.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "Seriously? You just ran out of there…"

"I'm fine."

"You seemed upset…"

"I'm _fine_."

"You sure? You look like you saw a ghost – well, you know, if you were the sort of person who didn't see ghosts all the time…"

"I said I'm fine," Lynn snapped. "Seriously fine. Can we please go?"

Jayne looked over her shoulder and Lynn followed her eyes. Sam and Dean were standing a few feet away, trying not to stare at her. Lynn sighed.

"Yeah," Jayne said. "Of course. Guys, let's head out!"

The boys echoed the sentiment. Lynn turned and marched for Dean's Impala, parked across the street, wheels against the curb.

Just as she climbed into the backseat, she felt the eyes again. Frowning, she looked back at the deserted shop, and then at Mr. Chen's apartment building.

There was still no one there.

* * *

_Now…_

It had all started on their second day in Brooklyn, Sam decided. That was the day that Lynn had slowly begun to lose it.

He'd seen Lynn lose it before. Back in West Virginia, for example, but that didn't really count. Some emotion-controlling psycho had made her lose it there. It was different now.

Sam took a deep drink from his beer, watching Lynn laugh at her stepsister's commentary on Dean and the reality TV twins across the room. He might have joined in if he wasn't so preoccupied.

He stared at the table, his thoughts wandering back to Brooklyn.

That second day in Brooklyn had been the day they'd finally found Inez Rodriguez's old apartment.

She'd freaked out up there. There was no other way of describing it. She couldn't leave fast enough. He supposed he understood why. Brooklyn had opened some sort of box, and all her grief and anxiety and impatience had come tumbling out. Being in that place, knowing what her mother had done there… listening to the way Mr. Chen, the property owner, had so casually described Inez Rodriguez committing suicide…

He understood running away. After all, they hadn't found any answers up there. Still, he'd have thought she'd mention it, explain it, talk to him about it, the way she always did.

Instead, she'd said nothing, only come to his motel room that night, and a few nights more. He'd given in to what she wanted, because it was hard not to… he didn't _want_ to say no.

He just thought he should.

"Yoo-hoo," Lynn's voice sounded in his ear. Sam jumped as she waved her hand in front of his face. "Earth to Sam?"

He looked at her. She smiled, even though her brows were crinkled with confusion. Sam forced a smile of his own.

"Hey," he said. "Sorry."

"Where were you?" Jayne drawled from across the table. Sam glanced her way and she cocked her eyebrow, smirking a little. "Wherever it was, it looked nice."

"Sorry," he said again. "Um… just thinking."

"About the hunt?" Lynn pounced. "Again? Come on, Sam, we'll have plenty of time for that tomorrow. Try to have a little fun, ok?"

Fun. It was a strange, foreign concept, but not just to him. Lynn hadn't been a whole lot of fun either for the past week – longer, if he really thought about it. But especially since they arrived in Brooklyn.

"Do you think those poor bimbos actually believe Dean is a reality TV scout?" Lynn asked suddenly.

Jayne snorted. "God, I hope not."

"Maybe they know he's a liar, but they don't care," Lynn went on.

"Yeah," Jayne rolled her eyes. "Because Dean's just so desirable."

"Can we talk about something else?" Sam asked.

"You need another beer," Jayne observed. "And maybe a shot or two."

"I want a shot," Lynn was quick to say.

Jayne sighed, grabbing her empty beer bottle and getting to her feet. "Fine."

She headed for the bar.

"She won't actually buy me a shot, will she?" Sam asked.

Lynn raised her eyebrow at him. "Why? Afraid it'll loosen you up too much?"

He scoffed. "No."

Lynn laughed.

Sam frowned. "I'm not uptight," he said. "I just…"

He trailed off.

Lynn stared at him a moment, and then nodded. "I know."

He would have asked what she meant, but Jayne came back just then.

"That was fast," Lynn observed.

Jayne shrugged. "I'm just lucky like that."

She plopped down three beers and four shots. Sam frowned at the drinks. He'd only had two beers now, and they'd had the same. No one was drunk just yet, but Sam was getting the feeling that drunk was the night's goal.

Jayne dispensed the drinks, putting a beer and a shot each in front of her and her sister. She slid the last beer and two shots towards Sam.

Sam redirected his frown at Jayne. She gave him a wicked grin. "Drink up, Sam."

Lynn laughed. "I like this idea."

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Sam asked.

Jayne took her seat, still grinning. "Maybe."

Sam fought a smile of his own. "I'm not going to get drunk."

Jayne nodded, eyes wide, her grin still lurking around her lips. "Of course not. I'm sure that a big guy like you is more than capable of holding his liquor."

"That sounds like a challenge," Lynn spoke up.

Sam laughed slightly, shaking his head. "I'm not getting wasted just because you guys dare me to."

"No one said anything about a dare," Jayne returned innocently.

"I did," Lynn said. "I dare you to drink like one of us."

"I'm not doing both those shots."

Jayne wiggled her eyebrows. "Chicken."

Sam gave one short, disbelieving chuckle. "Did you just call me a chicken?"

She grinned at him. "Bawk, bawk, bawk."

Sam couldn't fight the smile. He turned the grin on Lynn. "Is she really doing this?"

"Drink up or I'm going to join her," Lynn retorted, grinning right back.

He sighed. He looked at the drinks. Two shots. One more beer. It couldn't hurt, not really. Besides… he was actually having fun. Lynn seemed to have pushed all her Brooklyn crap down far enough to have a good time, and as for Jayne…

He shook his head at the smirk she was still giving him and looked back down at his shots. Jayne was surprisingly fun to be around. For now, at least.

"Fine," he announced. "Fine."

"Fine?" Jayne repeated, still smirking.

"Yeah," he said. "Fine."

Their shot glasses clinked. The three of them threw back their shots and chased them with beer. Sam swallowed, wincing, and then threw back the second shot.

He took another gulp of beer, shaking his head and making a face. Lynn giggled, and Jayne smirked at him again.

"Want another one?" Lynn asked.

Sam looked at her, and then at Jayne. He couldn't help but think that they both looked pretty devious.

"Sure," he said, forcing a smile. "Sounds great."

* * *

Dean grinned. Both Brandi and her friend – whose name escaped him at the moment – were laughing at some joke he'd made. Brandi was giving him the sexy flirty eyes, so Dean winked at her. She smiled, cooing something about a drink as she flipped her long brown hair over her shoulder.

He liked what he saw there. Her lacy, plunging neckline, the curve of her cleavage… she smiled at him again with those big pink lips, and Dean found himself flagging down the bartender again.

There went all of last night's poker winnings. He didn't care. Totally worth it.

He ordered shots. Brandi's blonde friend excused herself and headed for the bathroom. Dean smirked at Brandi again as he waited on the bartender. He was starting to get a little hazy now, his head feeling a little too light.

"Hey, Dean!" an all too familiar voice greeted him.

He flinched as Lynn squeezed her way between him and Brandi. She smirked up at him and tossed her black waves over her shoulder, eerily similar to the way Brandi had tossed _her_ hair.

Speaking of Brandi, she looked pissed. Dean tried to assuage her with a smile over Lynn's head – not difficult because Lynn was short – but Brandi's sour expression didn't fade. What had he told Brandi his name was? Had he said Dean? He hoped against hope he'd said Dean.

"What do you want?" he snapped at Lynn.

She smiled at him, leaning on the counter and blinking her long black eyelashes. Dean normally would have rolled his eyes, but he'd had a few, and Lynn looked good even when he was sober.

She actually looked better than Brandi, if he was being honest with himself. Sure, she wasn't showing anywhere near the skin Brandi was, but it wasn't always about the skin. Her curves outshone Brandi's cleavage by far.

"Thanks," Lynn chirped, still grinning, and Dean frowned in confusion, wondering if he'd said all that out loud.

He hadn't. Lynn snatched up one of his shots and slammed it, shuddering at the burn. "Wow," she said, making a face. "Bottom shelf tequila? I thought you had more class."

"That wasn't for you," Dean retorted, teeth clenched. Yes, Lynn was hot, but she was super annoying too.

"Oh, so sorry," she rolled her eyes. "Did I do your, uh… _friend's_ shot?"

She smirked at him, and then eyed Brandi. Brandi glowered at her.

"Don't sweat it," she told Brandi. "It was cheap liquor. You should make him buy you something good."

Dean rolled his eyes too, and then asked the bartender for another one.

"What's your name?" Lynn asked Brandi.

"Brandi," the other woman said. She was still glaring at Lynn.

"Brandi," Lynn repeated, nodding and smiling. "I'm Lynn."

She held out her hand. Brandi shook it, but she didn't look happy.

"So," Lynn said, still grinning. "What did Dean tell you his name was?"

Dean took Lynn by the shoulder, gripping harder than necessary. "Ok, that's enough," he said, attempting to steer her away from the counter. Lynn shoved him off.

"He told me his name was Dean," Brandi replied, voice flat and eyes narrowed. "Because that's his name. Right?"

"Right," Dean agreed. "You know, just ignore her. She's my, uh… partner. You know, a scout."

Brandi's sour look instantly transformed into a brilliant smile. "A scout?" she repeated.

"No," Lynn said. Dean glared at the back of her head. "I'm not a scout. He's not a scout either. Did he tell he was a scout? For what, exactly? Darts?"

"Not a sports scout," Dean slid in smoothly. "Reality TV. What, you prefer the euphemism?"

Lynn snorted. "Reality TV. Yeah, right. He's not a reality TV scout or any other kind of scout. He lives out of his car."

"Lynn," Dean growled.

"He's lying to you so he can get in your pants," Lynn pushed on. "If I were you, I would run. Now. Fast."

Brandi stared.

"Bu-bye," Lynn said.

Brandi stared a second longer. She snorted. "Whatever."

Then she sauntered off towards the bathrooms.

"Lynn!" Dean thundered. "What the hell?"

Lynn turned and blinked at him. "What?"

He glared. He shook his head. He leaned into her face and hollered, "You are such a cock block!"

Lynn laughed. "A cock block?"

Dean made a 'duh' gesture with his hands.

She grinned at him, leaning back against the bar. "Am I, Dean?" she asked. "Am I cock block? Or am I your best friend in the whole wide world?"

He frowned. "Obviously, you're a cock block!"

"You would have regretted that ride," Lynn said. "I mean, she might have had a disease."

Dean stared at her incredulously.

"Or, you know, _you_ might have a disease," Lynn went on, feigning innocence. "And it'd be a shame if that nice young girl caught it."

"Are you done pissing me off?" Dean demanded.

She shrugged. "Sure."

Then she pushed herself off the bar and swiped Dean's shots.

"I'll just take these off your hands," she smirked.

He watched, openmouthed and furious as she sashayed back to the table where Sam was still sitting, alone.

"Unbelievable," he muttered.

He turned back to the bar and flagged down a different bartender. She poured him two more shots and handed him an open beer.

Dean took a sip from the beer first, glancing down the bar. He spotted Jayne at the end, ordering from the other bartender.

Sighing, he glanced around him. Brandi was at the restroom door, talking with her pal and giving him the skunk eye. Wincing, he turned away. That was a waste of an hour and several drinks.

He surveyed the bar, but his heart wasn't in the hookup game anymore. Sighing again, he grabbed his drinks and made his way down to the end of the bar, sidling up alongside Jayne.

"Hey, there, Goldilocks," he greeted her.

She turned around, beer in hand, and frowned at him. "What?" she asked. "You scare off your reality TV hopefuls?"

He smirked. She smiled a little, raising her eyebrow. "Not exactly," he said. "That was your sister."

Jayne blinked, looking surprised. "Lynn scared away your hookup?"

"Oh, yeah," he replied. "And she enjoyed it. A lot."

Jayne laughed.

He smiled, holding out one of his shots. "Here," he said. "Have one."

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Winchester?"

He smirked wider. "Maybe?"

She took the shot glass from his hand. "That's fair. I _did_ get your brother drunk."

"Sammy?"

She nodded in the direction of Sam and Lynn's table. Dean followed the nod, checking out his brother. Sam was actually laughing. There was a big, genuine, dopey smile on his face. The table was littered with beer bottles.

"Holy crap," he said. "You got my brother drunk."

She shrugged. "Lynn helped."

He grinned, shaking his head. He knocked his shot glass into hers. "Bottoms up."

She nodded again and tossed it back. He followed suit, savoring the burn as it ripped down his throat. Grimacing, he slammed the shot glass down on the bar.

Jayne grimaced too, forcing herself to swallow. "Geez," she said. "Bottom shelf?"

He stared at her. He shook his head. "You know, for not being blood-related? Sometimes it's _really_ obvious Lynn's your sister."

She smirked.

He grinned back. She turned back towards the counter, taking a swig out of her beer. Dean leaned on the bar, watching her.

"Stop staring at me," she ordered, turning back around.

He blinked.

"It's nice to know," she went on, a small smile hiding around the corners of her lips. "You know, that when your hookup ditches you, you're willing to hang out with me."

Dean rolled his eyes.

Her smile got bigger. "Hey, I'm just letting you know – I'm here for you. Whenever some sexy girl in a bar decides you're not worth the free drink… well, I'll always be around to console you. And by console, I mean drink with. Because I'm not letting you cry on my shoulder."

He glared at her.

"Seriously," she said, eyes wide and innocent. "This is my favorite shirt. You're not getting your snot all over it."

"Remind me why I put up with you?" he retorted.

"Because I'm the only one who will put up with _you_?"

He glared again. She smirked again. Finally, he rolled his eyes and hopped onto a vacant barstool.

"Fair enough," he said, flagging down the bartender. "Shots again?"

She snorted. "You really are trying to get me drunk, aren't you?"

"Well, from the looks of that table you just left, you're already halfway there."

"I told you, all those are Sam's."

"And Lynn's too, right? Because when she cock blocked me, she was totally tipsy."

Jayne grinned, and then slid onto the stool beside his. "All right," she mock sighed. "Shots it is."

* * *

Sam laughed out loud as Lynn gave him the details on how she'd spooked Brandi and stole Dean's shots.

"Seriously?" he kept asking. "Oh, he's going to be _so_ mad."

He took one of the shots, and Lynn did the other. He chased the tequila with his beer.

Sam was actually having fun.

And yeah, he was drunk. Jayne and Lynn had gotten him drunk. Tomorrow, he supposed he'd regret it, but for the moment, he was enjoying himself.

"I'm sorry we bailed on Brooklyn," he said suddenly.

Lynn's grin faded. She stared down the neck of her beer bottle.

"We could have stayed," he pressed. "If you'd wanted to."

"Why?" she returned sharply. "There was nothing there."

"Well, if we'd looked around some more…"

"Drop it, Sam. I really don't want to talk about Brooklyn."

Silence.

He wanted to push the issue, but the look on her face stopped him. She took another gulp of beer, and then she grinned at him.

"My beer's about tapped," she said. "Yours?"

"Empty."

She stood up. "I'll get another round. Maybe steal more of Dean's drinks."

She winked and headed for the bar.

Sam watched her go, and then stared at the tabletop.

There were perfectly normal ways to explain Lynn's change in mood whenever he brought up Brooklyn. It stirred up bad thoughts about her mother. It made her sad to think about Inez committing suicide. It made her angry that all they'd hit were dead ends; that they were no closer to finding out the truth.

But that wasn't it, he decided. Sure, it was part of it, but there was something else bothering her.

He _would_ figure out what. That, she better count on.

* * *

_Brooklyn, two days earlier…_

Sam flashed his deputy's badge briefly, not letting the woman behind the city records desk get too close a look.

"We're looking into an old suicide," Sam explained. "About twenty-three, twenty-four years ago?"

Lynn fidgeted beside him, her eyes trained on the cheap linoleum floor.

The desk clerk led them into the back, taking them to a specific shelf that was as far from the entrance as they could get.

"If we have anything on it," the woman said. "It's here."

Then she left them alone.

Sam took a step towards the shelf, frowning at the labels on the weathered cardboard boxes. "This could take a while," he announced.

Lynn nodded, her eyes traveling along the shelf as well. "I texted Jayne," she said. "She and Dean will be awhile at the police station, too. Apparently, the officers who were in charge of my mother's case are both MIA."

"They're gone?" Sam frowned. "Just like that?"

Lynn shrugged, grabbing a box. "Retired, I guess. She said they're trying to find out where they went."

She hauled the box down from the shelf. "Ro-Sc," she read off the label. "I'll bet there's something in here."

Sam followed her to a small table in the corner of the room. He took a seat as she lifted the lid off the box and began rifling through file folders.

"It's kind of an odd coincidence," she said as she rummaged through the contents of the box. "First, Mr. Chen acts like my mother's old apartment is haunted, but we can't find any proof that he's right. And now the officers who investigated her suicide have mysteriously left the building."

Sam frowned at her. "What are you trying to say?"

She shrugged. "My dad went through an awful lot of trouble to hide all this from me. Seems like maybe he wasn't the only one executing a cover up."

She yanked a file from the box and slapped it down on the table. "Here," she announced, sitting at the table. "Inez Rodriguez."

Sam flipped it open. "I see a death certificate," he said, sliding it towards her.

"I've already seen this," she returned, but she picked it up and gave it a look anyway.

Sam flipped through the folder's contents. "Anything?" he asked her.

She shook her head, putting the paper down. "Says the same thing here as it did on the copy. What else in there?"

"Obituary," Sam replied, frowning at the newspaper clipping. "Says here she died unexpectedly. No mention of how."

"Whoever wrote it probably didn't want anyone knowing she killed herself," Lynn said sourly.

"Or the investigation hadn't been completed," Sam replied. He frowned at the clipping again. "Huh."

"What?"

He handed her the paper. "This was written by your father."

She snatched it from him. "What?"

"It says Inez was survived by her one year old daughter, Lynnette Juarez," Sam told her. "As well as a sister. Maria."

"My dad did write this," she murmured. "He calls himself an old friend." She shook her head, and frowned up at Sam. "She had a sister?"

He nodded. "Looks like."

"She had a sister," Lynn repeated, still shaking her head. "I have an aunt."

Silence. Sam stared at her, waiting for more of a reaction. She met his eyes, visibly upset.

"Why didn't I know about this?" she asked. "Why didn't he tell me I had an aunt? I could have met her. I could have asked her so many things…"

"No offense," Sam murmured. "But your father was on the road a lot, hunting things, raising you to do the same. I'd guess he wouldn't want too many people interfering. He actually sounds a lot like my Dad."

"So?"

"So, I had family too," Sam told her. "I mean, my mother? They never recovered a body from the house, so my Dad didn't bother with a gravesite. There's a memorial in Kansas somewhere, but that was set up by her uncle. Needless to say, I never met the man. I never met a lot of my relatives. Don't even know who they all are."

Lynn nodded, staring at the clipping again. "So… what then?" she asked. "Russ just cut me off from her family?"

Sam shrugged. "He ever talk about his family? Or your stepmother's relatives?"

Lynn shook her head. "No."

"Well, I guess you have your answer."

Silence again. Lynn stared at the obituary a little longer, and then put it down on the table.

"How dare he?" she whispered. "Don't I have a right to know where I come from? Who my relatives are? Hell, doesn't Jayne have the same right? And Stephen? Why did he do this to us?"

She shook her head again. "We have to find everything we can on Maria Rodriguez," she said. "If anyone can tell me what I need to know, it would be her."

So they looked through the records some more, searching for any sign of Maria. Sam couldn't help the worry and the skepticism. He had this feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that their search wouldn't end well.

He was right. They found no address, no newspaper clippings… nothing to suggest that a Maria Rodriguez had ever existed in Brooklyn, no matter what was written in Inez Rodriguez's obituary.

"Damn it," Lynn hissed, tossing the document on the table. She rubbed her forehead, leaning her elbow on the desk.

"Hey," Sam said softly. "Just because we can't find her in here doesn't mean she's not still around somewhere. Maybe she never lived in Brooklyn. Maybe she's somewhere else. Still in Puerto Rico. That's where your mother lived before."

Lynn shook her head. "I find an aunt, I lose an aunt. What are we even doing here?"

Sam stared.

"Seriously," she said. "Why did I go along with this? It was obviously a terrible idea."

Sam didn't know what to say. He just stared at her, fingering the corner of the Rodriguez file folder, as she leaned on the desk and rubbed her temples.

"Let's just go," she said, snatching the files from him and shoving them back in their respective boxes. "I'm ready to go."

He helped her put everything away. He said nothing, because she obviously wanted to be left alone. Then, when everything was cleaned up, he followed her silently out of the records office and down the sidewalk, headed for where they'd parked the Impala.

She didn't say anything else. He didn't push her. They were silent until Jayne and Dean rejoined them at the front of the police station, where they told Lynn the news.

The investigating officers in Inez's suicide were both dead.

* * *

_Now…_

It had not been Jayne's intention to get drunk that night, but her intentions had quickly changed.

Lynn had no sooner entered that little townie bar and she was ordering shots. Jayne couldn't blame her. She knew her sister was suffering. Lynn had been suffering for a while now.

Brooklyn had kicked it up a notch.

If she'd known the effect that Brooklyn would have on Lynn, she'd never have suggested they go there. She'd thought it would help. It made the most sense. It was where it had all gone down. Where Inez Rodriguez had lived and died.

But they'd found nothing. Nothing but an obscure mention of an aunt who was nowhere to be found – who might have never left Puerto Rico. Jayne hated that. She hated that Russ had kept so much from them, that he had left so much unsaid. He was dead and gone now, and all he'd left behind were secrets.

She hated that she was a liar too. That she too kept things from Lynn and Stephen. She hated that she still wasn't talking, even though she knew it was wrong.

But how could she say anything about what she knew? She had no concrete evidence, only a couple paragraphs in Russ's old journals and a smart remark from an incubus. Stephen couldn't know what she thought he was. And Sam? Dean wouldn't want him knowing any of this either. She couldn't tell Sam, and she wouldn't tell Steve… and telling Lynn seemed unfair, because she'd want to say something to them, to Sam and Steve… Jayne refused to put her in that position, to make her worry when maybe the worry was unnecessary…

All right, she was a hypocrite. And her stepsister was a mess. So now Lynn was drinking, and Jayne completely understood why. And Sam was throwing himself into the next case – or, he'd been trying to, until they'd convinced _him_ to start drinking. And Dean was drinking too, because he was trying to pick up chicks.

So Jayne figured what the hell, she might as well drink with them.

And she hadn't been jealous of Dean and his two tipsy co-eds. He could hit on Brandi and company all he wanted to – she didn't have a problem with it. Maybe she was enjoying the fact that her stepsister had chased Brandi away, but only because it was sort of funny.

She was still sitting at the bar with Dean, drinking another beer, thinking about another shot. Her head was too light, and she was laughing too easy, but she'd yet to experience that film over her vision that signified it was time to stop drinking. Jayne took a sip of her beer.

"What do you think?" she asked him. "One more shot to go?"

Dean cackled. "Like you read my mind, Goldilocks."

He flagged down the bartender and put in the order. As she watched the bartender fill up the shot glasses, Jayne heard the song switch on the jukebox, the first notes of an old Tom Petty tune blaring through the speakers.

She actually laughed as Dean handed her one of the shots. "I love this song," she announced.

Dean made a face. "Tom Petty?"

Jayne smirked. "Sure."

"You're a Tom Petty fan?"

"Sexiest man alive."

Dean laughed out loud. "Are you kidding me right now?"

She just grinned, clinking her shot glass with his, and emptying it down her throat. Dean did the same. Jayne sat still for a moment, listening to the opening lyrics of the song… _You and I got something, we both know it, we don't talk too much about it / Ain't no real big secret, all the same somehow we get around it…_

"You know," Dean said. "Tom Petty's like the ugliest man in rock and roll."

"No, no, no," she returned, waving her finger at him. "That honor goes to Klaus Meine, front man for the Scorpions."

Dean screwed up his face and thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Touché."

She laughed, taking another drink of her beer. "I _do_ know this song," Dean said suddenly.

"Yeah, you and half of America," Jayne retorted. She turned back towards the bar, nodding her head along with the music. A group of guys in the back of the bar started bellowing the words right along with Tom Petty.

_It don't really matter to me, baby, you believe what you want to believe._ _I say you don't have to live like a refugee._

Dean laughed suddenly. "Are you mouthing the words?"

"No," she said too quickly, covering the lie with another drink of beer.

"You are such a fan girl right now."

"Bite me."

Dean grinned. "Drunk fan girl," he said, leaning into her face.

"Yeah, well at least I'm not singing along at the top of my lungs like the geezers in the back."

He snickered. "Yeah," he agreed. "I thought people only did that for Living on a Prayer."

She laughed. Dean glanced over his shoulder, drinking from his beer. "Lynn and Sam ditched us," he observed.

Jayne followed his eyes, spotting their empty table. "Maybe it was just time to take your brother home," she smirked. "He was getting kind of sloppy."

Dean snorted. "Yeah. Your evil sister got my brother drunk out of his mind, and now she's luring him back to the motel, where she'll take full advantage of him."

"That's my sister," Jayne said, straight-faced. "The predator."

Dean rolled his eyes, the grin surfacing again. Jayne glanced back at the empty table again.

"When that whole business goes wrong," she said, half to herself. "It's going to go _really_ wrong."

"What do you mean?"

She looked up at Dean, who was watching her expectantly, waiting for an explanation. Jayne shrugged, drinking a swig of beer. "That whole friends with benefits thing they got going on," she elaborated. "They're kidding themselves."

"You don't believe in friends with benefits?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean, don't get me wrong; sex happens. It's not always the end of a friendship."

Dean laughed out loud. "Sex happens?" he repeated.

"Shut up," she said, laughing too. She hit him the arm. "You know what I meant."

"Do I?"

Jayne smacked him again. "Come on, it does happen. Sometimes. It's just when it keeps happening, like with them. When they keep insisting they're just friends; that nothing's going on and they're just… I don't know… working out some sexual frustrations with one another or something equally stupid."

"You don't buy it?"

"Do you?"

There was a long silence. Dean's grin faded. He took another drink.

"No," he admitted. "I don't."

Jayne watched him for a moment, quiet. He didn't go on, so she did. "One of them is going to get more attached than the other," she said. "And considering your brother's… your brother's past? I'm willing to bet the person who gets hurt will be my stepsister."

He nodded, staring at the counter.

"And then I'll have to kill your brother."

Dean looked up. She smirked. He laughed. "Well, that'll definitely end this friendship."

"I know. They're going to totally throw off our group dynamic."

"Well, it had to end sometime."

"Sooner or later."

Silence.

"You're right," Dean said. "I agree with you. Friends with benefits doesn't work."

"We should tell them that."

"I'm talking serious," he pressed. Jayne frowned, studying the side of his face. Dean was staring at the liquor shelf, but he looked like he was staring halfway across the country. "I mean, there are just certain people you can't sleep with."

She stared at him. He drank heavily from his beer before starting up again. "I mean, that person could be an awesome friend," he murmured. "Like the best friend you could ask for. Not to mention smoking hot."

Jayne swallowed, her fingers tightening on the neck of her beer bottle. She couldn't take her eyes off the side of his face. He kept right on going, never looking up from the wall behind the bar.

"But you can't cross the line. You cross the line, you can't go back. And that friendship, I mean… well, it could all go wrong, you know? It could always go wrong, and then…"

He trailed off. Jayne stared at him a little more.

"And there's too much at stake?" she supplied. "If it all goes wrong, you'd lose too much?"

Silence. He tore his eyes from the liquor shelf and stared at her instead. "Exactly."

Jayne stared back, and then made herself look away. She smirked a little. "You are _so _drunk."

He smirked too. "Look who's talking."

She smacked him in the arm. "Shut up."

Silence.

"You're right," she announced.

He looked at her, surprised.

"Yeah," she joked. "I can't believe it either."

"Can it, Goldilocks."

"You are right, though. Certain people can't sleep with each other. Just how it goes. Too much to lose, so we shouldn't even try."

He nodded and looked down at the bar. She stared at the side of his face again.

"You know what?" she asked.

"What?"

"Fuck it."

He blinked at her.

She swallowed, her eyes traveling down to his mouth. She took his chin in her hand and leaned in. He didn't pull back, so she closed the gap and pressed her lips into his.

There was a brief moment of surprise on his end, and then he pressed back, his hands on her arms, the stubble on his chin rubbing against her face. She pulled away. He looked her right in the eye.

"Didn't we just have a conversation about not doing this?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. And I said fuck it, remember?"

He stared at her. Then he chuckled. "All right," he said. "Fuck it."

This time, _he_ kissed her.

* * *

"What did you mean earlier?"

Sam's sudden question startled her. Lynn looked up from her beer, blinking. "I'm not sure," she replied, laughing a little. "What exactly did I say?"

He waved his hand around. "You know. Back when I was saying about not being uptight, and I didn't finish my sentence, but you said that you knew anyway?"

Sam was so drunk. Lynn stared at him, a smile forming on her face in spite of herself. "Oh, Sam," she sighed, shaking her head.

"No," he told her. "I am not drunk."

Lynn raised her eyebrow. "Let's not tell lies, Sam."

He laughed. Obnoxiously. She grinned wide, fighting back a laugh herself.

Sam was adorable when he was wasted.

"Ok, ok," he said. "Maybe I'm a little drunk."

"Maybe."

"You are too."

"That's fair."

"But really though. What did you mean?"

Lynn stared at him. He stared back with those wide puppy eyes. She sighed.

"I know that you're not like us," she said. "When things go bad, you don't drown yourself in booze. You just… throw yourself into the hunt instead."

Silence.

"Yeah," he said, snorting. "Yeah, I do."

She smiled at him. He tousled his hair, sighing, and then perched his elbows on the table. "Lynn," he said, a slight whine in his voice. "Things did go bad, didn't they?"

At first, she didn't know what to say to that. Sam stared at her expectantly. Lynn stared back. She took a deep breath and leaned forward.

"Yeah, Sam. They kind of did."

"It'll get better," he told her. "We'll find more stuff. You shouldn't worry."

It was sweet, even though she didn't believe a word of it. He might believe what he was saying, but Lynn didn't. Still, she mustered up a smile for him and reached across the table to pat his hand.

"Thanks," she said. "You're probably right."

He smiled.

"Why don't we head for the motel?" Lynn suggested.

"Ok."

She got to her feet, swaying a little. She'd had a little too much, but not nearly as much as Sam. Lynn grabbed her purse, stuffed Sam's newspapers inside it, and then took him by the arm, helping him out of the chair. Sam stumbled, nearly knocking her over. She managed to steady him.

"Whoa, there," she said. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," he insisted, straightening up. "Just got a little dizzy."

He grinned again. Lynn had to smile too. Shaking her head, she took his arm and steered him towards the door.

The air outside was cool, a welcome relief from the too hot, too cramped bar. Lynn led Sam down towards the motel, stationed next door. Sam stumbled again, nearly toppling into a bush.

"Sam!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by his coat. He wobbled a few steps more, taking her with him, until finally finding his balance. She helped him stand straight.

"Sorry," he said, too loud.

Lynn sighed, shaking her head. "Boy, you're an easy drunk. Come on."

They made it to the motel parking lot. Lynn took him to her motel room, letting him lean on the wall while she fumbled for her keycard. Her fingers were clumsy with alcohol. It was easy feeling sober with Sam around, but the search for the key brought her back to reality.

A breeze picked her hair off her shoulders. She shuddered. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood straight. She glanced uneasily over her shoulder.

The lot was empty.

Again, she felt the eyes boring into her head, the same way she'd felt in Brooklyn, outside her mother's old apartment building. She could swear someone was watching her, but there was no one in sight.

Slowly, she returned to her search for the room key, trying to tell herself she was being ridiculous, that she'd had one too many drinks and the alcohol was playing tricks with her mind…

A shadow flitted in the corner of her eye. She swerved, eyes darting back and forth. Still she saw nothing creeping in the shadows, nothing peeking around the corners.

"Lynn," Sam said.

She swung her eyes up to him, feeling unaccountably guilty.

He squinted at her. "You ok?"

Lynn stared. She took a deep breath and forced herself to nod. "Yeah," she said. "I'm good."

She found the room key in the bottom of her purse and unlocked the door. Sam stumbled inside and she followed him, closing the door fast behind her. She hooked the chain and checked the salt lines around the room.

Sam collapsed on the bed. She walked past him, checking the lock on the window. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her onto the bed. "Sam, what the hell?" she demanded.

He planted a very sloppy kiss on her. She had other things on her mind, and tried to pull away, but Sam persisted. Lynn giggled in spite of herself. "Sam," she said, pushing him back. "Stop. I have to finish checking stuff."

"Why?"

He actually whined. Lynn gaped at him, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

"Just sit tight," she told him, brushing her lips against his. "I'll be right back."

She stood, heading again for the window. The lock was tight. She gazed out at the parking lot for a moment. Again, that creepy feeling of being watched possessed her.

Lynn shivered. She yanked the curtains closed. "Sorry," she said, turning back to Sam. "I just felt like… Sam?"

Sam didn't answer. He was sprawled out on the bed, eyes closed, fast asleep.

She stared. She sighed. Then she laughed, shaking her head. "Guess I'm not getting laid tonight after all," she observed to the empty room.

Silence. Lynn took off Sam's shoes for him, dropping them on the floor beside the bed. He snored. She smiled again, and set about changing out of her clothes. It was quiet except for the occasional roll of tires on the asphalt, or an engine turning over. In fact, it was too quiet. The quiet gave her the creeps. She kept thinking back to the parking lot, and the feeling that someone was watching her…

She flicked off the light. Then, because the creepy feeling was still there, and she felt safer curled up beside him, she climbed into bed next to Sam. His long legs were spread out every which way, and he was taking up most of the mattress, but it didn't matter.

Lynn pressed her back into his side, moving his arm so she could put her head on the pillow. Then she closed her eyes and tried to get to sleep.

* * *

Dean pressed Jayne into the door of his motel room, his lips mashing into hers. They'd practically run from the bar, both tipsy, both impatient. He fumbled with the lock as he tried to open the door behind her, lips still on her lips, and her neck, and everywhere he could get them. Her hands were all over him, creeping up inside his shirt, running over his chest…

The door popped open and they both tumbled backwards into the room. Dean grabbed her around the waist and steadied them both, pulling her against him. He kicked the door shut behind them. Jayne's arms wrapped around his neck as his lips found hers again. He lifted her off the ground, stumbling through the dark room until they landed on a bed.

All the things he'd said in the bar were true. He'd meant every word. And she was right when she'd assumed they were no longer talking about Sam and Lynn. In all honesty, he'd never been talking about Sam and Lynn.

Crossing this line was terrifying. He needed the alcohol to get there, because without it there were too many reasons to resist. Most of all, he needed her to dismiss his reasons, needed her to kiss him, needed to hear her say, "Fuck it."

He pulled off her flannel shirt, tossing it over his shoulder. She shucked off his button down, thrusting it at the floor. Dean pinned her on the mattress, kissing her neck. She yanked his tee shirt over his head and threw it to the side.

Her hands were all over his bare chest, and then his back. He lifted her tank top, pulling it off and dropping it on the ground. His fingers found the hook on the back of her bra and he unclasped it. The bra landed on the floor.

She hooked her leg around his, rolling them both over. He ended up beneath her, and her lips found their way down his neck, then down his chest… her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle and then the fly of his jeans. He grunted into her ear as her hand slid inside his pants.

He ran his fingers through her hair, up and down her back and her arms, the pressure inside his pants increasing. When he couldn't take it anymore, he rolled them over on the bed again. She ended up beneath him once more and he buried his face in her neck, his lips and teeth grazing her skin as he fumbled with her jeans.

His jeans and boots tumbled off the bed, and then hers landed in a heap beside them. The springs in the worn motel mattress were creaking as they rolled around on the bed, and he could feel Jayne's breathing against his ear. Her breath hitched as he slid in between her legs. He thrust and she squeezed back, eliciting a moan from deep in his throat. Things started to get a little hazy, everything moving too fast. Her hands were everywhere. He pulled her against him, and soon her breathing turned to soft little moans. She said his name, in his ear, and he nearly lost it then and there.

She cried out, squeezing tighter, and then he came with her. He collapsed on the mattress beside her, panting heavily. He looked at her, watching her chest heave up and down. She stared at the ceiling, breathing, and then turned her head, looking him in the eye.

He focused on the gray of her eyes, still breathing hard. She smiled at him, a tiny little half-smile. He reached out and brushed the hair out of her face.

She closed her eyes, turning her face back towards the ceiling.

Dean leaned into her, his arm falling over her waist, closing his eyes too, slowly drifting off to sleep.

It hadn't even felt like a mistake.


	53. Provenance

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to MythsndLegends, krenee321, ColtFan165, AshlynPaige92, hornblowerarchiekennedyfan, Spelllesswonder29, angeleyenc, Nelle07, Lov3good, Leila, BlueEyedPisces, Nehasupnfan, Celtergirl, impalame, Lynx, Penelope Halliwell, Little Rock-n-Roll Queen, and ThreeMoons for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 53: Provenance

_Brrring! Brrring!_

The obnoxious ringing of her cell phone was the first thing Jayne heard that morning. Slowly, she blinked awake, trying to pull herself out of the alcohol-induced coma and focus on her surroundings.

There was an arm around her waist.

Suddenly, Jayne was wide awake, the events of the night before rushing back to her. Eyes wide, she looked over her shoulder at the man beside her. Dean was fast asleep with his head to the side and his arm slung over her abdomen, their scratchy tan blanket riding so low she could see the very tops of his hipbones.

Her phone stopped ringing, but it was too late. Dean stirred. Jayne closed her eyes, swallowing hard, and turned away. _Crap_. The mattress creaked under him. She felt his arm tense. Sighing, she forced herself to look at him again.

He blinked at her for a moment. "Hey," she said.

A tentative smirk crossed his face. It was small, and slightly awkward, as though he didn't quite feel what he was attempting to convey. "Uh…" he began. "Morning, Goldilocks."

Jayne barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She refocused her gaze on the cracked white ceiling and took a deep breath, trying desperately to think of something to say.

_Brrring!_

Her cell phone started up again. She dove for it, glad for the save, and snatched it off the cheap, veneered nightstand. "Hey," she greeted her stepsister. "What do you want?"

"Just seeing if you're alive. You sleep in the boys' room last night?"

Jayne winced. She'd sort of slept there. Sleeping had happened eventually. Swallowing, she forced herself to sound normal. "Yeah. I figured you and Sam were, uh…"

"We weren't, actually. Sam passed out early."

Jayne surprised herself by laughing. "Sam passed out?"

"Yep."

"How is he now?"

"Puking in our bathroom."

Jayne chuckled again. "Oh, man. Poor kid."

"We'll probably head out for New Paltz in an hour, so if you were hoping to shower…"

"Right. Ok. I'm getting up… what time is it?"

"Six."

"In the morning?"

"Duh."

"I kind of hate you right now."

"Ooh, sounds like Sam's not the only one who's hung-over."

"Keep it up. I'll make you drive."

"No fair! I don't feel so great either, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be over in a minute."

"See you."

Lynn hung up the phone. Jayne did too, closing the phone too slowly, dreading the moment when she'd have to talk to Dean again.

She turned and caught his eye. He forced another smile. "Lynn?"

Jayne nodded. "They want to leave for New Paltz in an hour."

He nodded too. "Right. Ok, then. Uh…"

Silence. Dean trailed off and scratched his hair. Jayne worried her lower lip with her teeth, her eyes straying to the dirty beige carpet. She leaned over the side of the bed, suddenly very interested in locating all her clothes.

"Sam's hung over," she offered, making conversation. She snatched her jeans off the floor.

Dean chuckled, leaning over his side of the bed too. "Puking his guts out yet?"

"Oh, yeah."

He chuckled again, sitting up and turning his back on her. "Awesome."

Jayne slid into her jeans and reached for her bra. She heard Dean rustling around behind her as she put on the rest of her clothes. Finally dressed, she got to her feet and turned to see him shirtless, in his jeans, standing on the other side of the bed.

She swallowed, staring. He was eyeballing the floor, but suddenly glanced her way. Quickly, she averted her eyes.

"I'm going to go," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that's… ok. I mean, I was going to shower anyway, so…"

Dean trailed off, scratching at the back of his neck. Jayne stared at him a moment, and then slowly nodded back. "Right," she agreed. "You should, uh… you should do that."

More silence.

"Later," she added. Then she headed for the door.

"Hey, uh, Jayne?" he asked, stopping her in her tracks.

Slowly, she turned around. "Yeah?"

He scratched his head again and then looked her in the eye. "This isn't going to be weird, is it?"

Jayne stared at him. He stared back. Finally, she snorted, forcing a chuckle. "I think it's a little late for that," she joked, trying to grin.

"Right," Dean nodded, forcing a little laugh of his own. He stared at the floor a moment, and then he smiled again. "So, uh… I guess things are going to be awkward for… what do you think? Like two weeks?"

Jayne swallowed, thrown by the truth of the words, and made herself smirk back. "Sounds about right," she retorted. "And you can forget about eye contact for at least three days."

He laughed again. "Noted."

They lapsed into silence once again. Jayne fidgeted where she stood as Dean stared down at the bed, still wearing that awkward smile. Finally she took a step towards the door.

"See you later," she said over her shoulder, her hand already on the doorknob.

"Later," he echoed.

Jayne turned the knob and walked out of the room fast, closing the door gently behind her. She stood there a moment, collecting herself. The motel walls were thin and she could hear Dean heading into the bathroom and closing the door. Jayne sighed and shut her eyes, shaking her head, trying to understand what in the hell had possessed her to do something so completely idiotic.

It _was_ idiotic. Things had been going so well and now... well, now there was this. She had taken something so easy, so comfortable, and made it awkward. Jayne growled in frustration, knocking her head hard against the door.

"Damn it," she muttered.

* * *

Sam groaned, collapsing on the cold bathroom floor and leaning against the standard motel-issue tub.

"I hate you!" he bellowed into the next room.

Lynn's laughter echoed back at him. She ducked her head through the door and smirked at him. "Do not pin this on me," she said. "Jayne forced plenty of those drinks down your throat without my help. Also, don't pretend you didn't like it."

He glowered at her. "Everything hurts," he told her. "My head, my stomach… my back, for some reason…"

"That one's on you. I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but you sleep at some seriously weird angles."

He massaged his neck. "That explains the neck pain."

She giggled. Sam moved on from rubbing his neck to rubbing his temples. "Do we have aspirin?" he asked.

"Black makeup bag under the sink. I'm going to get breakfast."

Sam grimaced. "Don't even mention food."

"You need some food. Super greasy food. And a coffee. Or maybe a Coke."

Sam stifled a gag, inching towards the toilet again. "No, thank you."

"I'm buying you hangover food," Lynn told him. "And you're going to eat it."

The door to the motel room swung open right then, banging against the wall. "Lynn?" Jayne's voice echoed from the bedroom.

"In here!"

Sam winced as the door slammed. He felt like someone was playing the bongos on his skull.

"Tell Sam to finish throwing up," Jayne said. "I want to shower."

Lynn raised her eyebrow at him, grinning. "You get that?"

"Loud and clear," Sam replied, head still in his hands.

"I'm getting coffee and stuff," Lynn informed her stepsister. "You want the usual?"

"Sounds good."

"I'll be back," Lynn told Sam. He nodded, waving her off. A few moments later, he heard the door to the motel room open and shut.

"You all right, kid?"

Sam looked up at the question. Jayne was leaning against the doorjamb, smirking at him. Sam groaned, rubbing his temples again. "I hate being called kid," he grumbled.

"Well, then stopping drinking like one."

Sam glared at her. She smirked wider.

"You about done?" she went on. "Seriously need the shower."

"Yeah, yeah, fine."

He dragged himself to his feet and promptly stumbled into the sink. Groaning, he kneeled down on the floor and dug Lynn's makeup bag out of the sink's cabinet. After several seconds of rummaging through its contents, he found the aspirin bottle.

Sam got up again, using the sink as support, and staggered for the door, aspirin in hand.

"You need a bucket?" Jayne asked.

Sam glared at her. She was still wearing that infuriating little grin, enjoying his pain far more than was normal.

"Bite me," he said, brushing past her into the bedroom.

She laughed, and then vanished into the bathroom. The door shut with a soft click. A few seconds later, Sam heard the shower running.

Groaning, he collapsed on the bed and struggled with the cap on the aspirin bottle. "Stupid child-lock," he grumbled. Finally, he got the cap off and tossed a few pills back, choking them down dry. Sam screwed the cap back on and tossed the bottle onto the other bed.

He lay down, rubbing his forehead, and then stared blankly up at the ceiling.

To be honest, he didn't remember a whole lot from the night before. There were bits and pieces from the bar… joking around with Jayne and Lynn, watching Dean hit on local girls, drinking one too many shots, talking about Brooklyn… but the last clear memory he had was nearly falling into a bush outside the bar. After that, he had nothing.

Sam sighed. He rarely ever drank like that. He wasn't even sure what had possessed him to do it. Well, that was a lie. Jayne and Lynn were what had possessed him. Really, it was their fault. It had been all their idea.

Sam dragged himself off the bed and grabbed his stuff, heading for the door. He needed a shower too, and a change of clothes.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Dean's head was killing him.

It had been killing him the whole hour and a half it took to reach New Paltz, and it was killing him now, despite the aspirin he'd popped before they'd even got in the car. He'd had to drive. Sam was sick to his head and his stomach, and now, as Dean parked the Impala against the curb of a pretty little suburban street, Sam was curled up in the passenger seat, fast asleep.

Dean sighed, swinging open the car door and stepping into the street. He surveyed the block from behind the comfort of his sunglasses, cursing the sunlight. It was a residential road, void of traffic and parked cars, shaded by tall, leafy elms. Some houses had open, sweeping, manicured lawns, and others hid behind white picket fences.

The house in question was an elegant three-story Victorian, painted blue and white, complete with one of those little turret things. Dean rubbed his aching head, spared one last look at his snoozing little brother, and then shut the car door.

He marched up the lawn and onto the large front porch. The door was heavy, too heavy to kick in, so Dean wrestled his pick from his pocket and started fiddling with the lock. Less than a minute and the lock clicked. Dean gently pushed open the front door and stepped into the dim, musty entrance hall, digging his EMF reader out of his coat.

Dean turned into the main room, swinging the reader around, and immediately froze. He blinked.

The room was empty – totally empty. Dean frowned, spinning 360 degrees, and came to the same conclusion. There was nothing in the room.

He walked the length and width of the room, taking in the bare pine floor and the bare white walls, craning his neck to look into the adjoining dining room. No cabinets, no chairs, no table… not even a rug or a set of curtains.

"Where the hell is all their stuff?" he asked the empty house. His voice bounced off the bare walls.

The EMF wasn't picking up a thing, so Dean moved on to the next room. That room was as empty as the first two.

Weird.

Sighing, Dean circled the first floor, finding no furniture and getting no readings. He started climbing the steps to the second story. His head was still killing him. He could blame it on the alcohol, but he had to admit that the hangover wasn't the only thing making his head ache. No matter how hard he tried to focus on other things – the highway, the empty house, the EMF reader – he kept coming back to the same thought.

He'd slept with Jayne last night.

Dean sighed again, stepping into one of the many bedrooms – empty, of course – and rubbed the back of his head. The night was a little fuzzy, but he remembered the important parts. He remembered Jayne and him doing shots, he remembered Tom Petty, and he remembered the conversation that started it all.

Neither of them believed in friends with benefits.

Somehow, from that point, he'd found himself spilling his guts. He still couldn't figure out why the hell he'd started talking about them – not Sam, not Lynn, but him and Jayne. All that crap about friendship and not rocking the boat and being afraid to lose everything…

She'd seen through the smokescreen, realized what the conversation was really about – called him out. Fuck it, she'd said.

That morning in the motel room had been surreal. He could almost believe the night before had been a dream, except there she was, in his bed, and not wearing any clothes.

He sighed again. The second floor of the house was clean too, not a bleep or a blip on the EMF reader. Satisfied there was nothing haunting the place, he turned back for the staircase and started on down.

Still, he was thinking about Jayne and the mess that was currently his life. Last night, it had seemed like a good idea… last night, it had felt so good… that was over now, and all he could think about was how he'd crossed a line with her that he'd never meant to cross. She wasn't a cocktail waitress, and she wasn't a co-ed in a sleazy bar, and she wasn't a police officer with information on a hunt… she was Jayne, and she was his friend, and no matter how badly you want to sleep with your friends, you just don't do it. You resist.

He had failed to resist, and now he was scared. Yeah – that's right. Scared. He'd admit it. The potential fallout from last night's weakness scared him shitless.

Dean reached the road and rounded the bumper of his car. He slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door.

Sam jumped, suddenly awake. "Oh, man," he groaned, shielding his eyes from the bright sun. "Oh, crap."

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," Dean smirked, instantly turning off his Jayne related thoughts. The important thing was that, no matter how he felt, he made sure to lie and smirk and pretend everything was fine.

"Are we here already?"

"Yeah. I just finished checking the house. It's clean."

"No ghosts?"

"Not as far as I can tell."

Sam sat up straight, licking his lips and rubbing his eyes. "OK," he murmured. "Um… maybe it's not the house. Maybe it was something in the house that was haunted… or cursed…"

"Maybe," Dean cut him off. "But if it was, then we've got a problem."

"What do you mean?"

"Their house is empty."

Silence. Sam stared at him. "What?"

"All their stuff is gone."

"Gone?"

"Yep."

"Where is it?"

"Got me by the short ones."

Sam groaned. He looked around them, and then leaned back in the seat again. "Where are Lynn and Jayne?"

"Research. Looking into the history of the house and all that gobbledygook."

"We should call them. Ask them to find out where all the Telescas' stuff went."

"Yeah, you should get on that."

Sam glared. Then he rolled his eyes, and dug his phone out of his pocket. Dean started the ignition as Sam dialed, and shifted into drive. As he pulled away from the curb, Sam got Lynn on the phone and started asking her about the Telescas and their vanishing belongings. Dean cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, eyes on the road, and thoughts returning to the night before.

He had a feeling this hunt was going to be the most awkward hunt of his entire life – and that included the time he'd hunted a demon truck trying to kill his ex-girlfriend.

Man, he had a complicated life.

* * *

Lynn stared out the passenger-side window as her stepsister wheeled their old, rusty gray truck into the parking lot of the Blake auction house. Her eyes roved over the stately, columned front of the red-brick and white building, and then over the cars parked in the lot – a bright yellow Mustang, a gleaming black Lincoln, a sporty silver convertible…

Jayne parked the truck next to a gold Lexus. Lynn eyed the car, and then the people in the parking lot. Men and women, mostly white-haired, dressed in designer clothes… suits and ties, pant suits, pencil line skirts and silky blouses…

She saw Dean's Impala, a white film over the black paint job from road salt and dust, parked between two impeccably groomed cars, and winced.

"We going in or not?"

The surly note to Jayne's voice caught Lynn's attention. She turned to her sister, raising an eyebrow. "Do you notice anything about this place?" she asked.

Jayne shrugged. "Other than all the old people? No, not really."

"You don't think we're a little… I don't know, underdressed?"

Jayne glanced around the parking lot, taking in all the high end cars and fancy country-club types, and then shrugged again. "Maybe," she admitted. "What's your point?"

"We're going to stick out like… like the truck does next to this Lexus!"

"Hey, Janis can hold her own against _any_ luxury sedan," Jayne retorted. "She's a _real_ vehicle. That Lexus right there? That's a mistake. It's like a yacht on wheels."

Lynn shook her head. "Here we go."

"As for the dress code? I don't care."

Lynn sighed. "You know we're going to get kicked out, right?"

"Like this'll be our first time getting kicked out of somewhere."

With a smirk, Jayne swung open the cab door and hopped down from the truck.

Lynn sighed again, and with another shake of her head she climbed out of the truck too, following Jayne across the parking lot.

She should have done a little more research, she supposed. When Sam had called earlier that morning, asking her and Jayne to find out what the Telescas' survivors had done with all their stuff, she hadn't thought there might be a showing that day. All she'd bothered to learn was that the Blake auction house was a big name in the art world, that the Telescas were continual patrons of the place, and that after their death, the executor of their will had chosen to sell their possessions at auction, at the Blake house.

Other than that, their early morning research hours had turned up little else. The history of the house was as clean as the house itself, and the Telescas were two of the most boring rich people in the universe. No red flags there.

It had to be something that was inside the house. And so, here they were, at the auction house, looking like the Beverly Hillbillies.

Sam and Dean met them at the entrance. "Hey," Sam greeted them. "You guys find anything out about the house or the Telescas…"

"Nope," Lynn cut him off. "Nothing. The Telesca murders were the first tragedy to ever occur in that place, and as for the Telescas themselves, they are super boring. You two are right, as far as I can tell. They were avid art and antique collectors, so if anything was old and haunted in that house, it was a piece of furniture or an artwork or something."

"Awesome," Dean said. "Let's check it out."

"You two realize that we are crashing a private auction in our jeans, right?" Lynn pointed out. "We'll be lucky if we make it through that door."

"No time to change," Dean replied. "It's now or never."

Lynn shook her head. Sam shrugged, giving her a sheepish grin. "I guess we're winging it," he murmured.

Dean was already headed into the building. Lynn glanced nervously at Jayne, who rolled her eyes. "Can we just get this over with?" she asked. "I'm getting snob on me."

Lynn rolled her eyes back. She and Sam followed Dean inside, Jayne trailing on their heels.

The inside of the auction house was as ritzy as the outside. High ceilings, open second story, fancy plated windows and marble floors. There was classical musical playing over the sound system. They snuck past the doorman and wound their way around a tall potted plant. A long table covered in hors d'oeuvres was set out between two long aisles of knickknacks, and as soon as Dean spotted it, he led them all straight to the food.

Lynn rolled her eyes again.

Dean picked his way along the table, swiping appetizers and popping them in his mouth. Sam ignored the food, heading for a painting at the end of the aisle. Lynn glanced at her stepsister and shook her head.

Jayne just shrugged again.

"Private auctions, estate sales," Dean was muttering. "Sounds like a garage sale for WASPS if you ask me."

Sam chuckled softly. Lynn sighed, looking around the area forlornly, wishing she were anywhere else in the world.

"Can I help you?"

The voice came from behind them. Lynn whirled, the other three immediately following her example. There was a man behind them, probably in his fifties, with gray hair and an expensive suit. He was on the short side, but that didn't stop him looking down his nose at all of them.

Dean looked him up and down. "I'd like some champagne please."

Lynn's eyes went wide. Sam looked mortified. "He's not a waiter," Sam exclaimed.

Beside her, Jayne snorted.

"I'm Sam Connors," Sam covered, holding out his hand. The man in the suit looked at it with disdain, and refused to shake. Sam ignored the slight and continued the introductions. "This is my brother Dean, and our partners, Jayne and Lynn Smythe. We're art dealers with Connors Limited."

The man smirked. "You're art dealers?"

His arrogance made Lynn want to smack him in the cheek, but she had to admit that at the moment, neither of them looked at all like art dealers.

"That's right," Sam replied.

"I'm Daniel Blake," the man said. "This is my auction house. Now, this is a private showing, and I don't remember seeing any of you on the guest list."

Dean smirked. "We're there, Chuckles," he said around a mouthful of appetizers. "You just need to take another look."

The man blinked. Lynn massaged her forehead, feeling another headache coming on. She'd woken up slightly hung-over, but that had already passed. Now it was Dean giving her a migraine.

A waiter passed close to them and Dean turned. "Finally," he said, swiping a flute of champagne off the tray. Then he held it under his nose, gave it a sniff, and walked away.

Sam gawked after his brother, looking like he wanted to punch him in the head. He forced a smile for Daniel Blake, murmuring, "Cheers."

Thus excused, he chased after Dean. Lynn smiled at the Blake man too, who was still staring at her and her stepsister like they were gum he'd found on the bottom of his shoe, and then she grabbed Jayne's arm and dragged her after the Winchesters.

Jayne raised her eyebrow. "Wow. I've only been rich five minutes, and I already hate it."

Lynn rolled her eyes. "Dean is such an idiot."

"True. But Daniel Blake is a total dick."

They came up behind the boys, who had stopped to frown at another painting. "Hey, Dean," Lynn said with a sour note in her voice. "For future reference? The next time you pretend to be a snooty rich dude, don't sniff the champagne. People only do that with wine."

Dean cocked an eyebrow and snorted. "Why the hell do you know that?"

Lynn pursed her lips and shook her head. "If we get thrown out, I blame you."

"Blame Sam," Dean retorted. "He's the one who came up with a name not on the guest list."

"Huh," Jayne said suddenly, stepping up next to Sam with her eyes on the painting. "That just might be the creepiest painting I've ever seen."

Sam nodded. "Yeah," he murmured, still frowning at it.

Lynn stepped up between them, taking a look. In all honesty, the thing was pretty creepy. It was a portrait of a family, five members in all, sitting in what was probably their parlor. The paint was dark and grim, all black and maroon and dark gold. There was a balding man in the back, his hand on a little girl's shoulder, staring to the side. Everyone else looked out at the viewer; the unsmiling mother all in black and white, the pale, pasty daughter in her frilly tan dress, the two young sons in black suits, both with dark hair and even darker, pupil-less eyes.

She shivered. Family of freaks, if you asked her.

"A fine example of American primitive, wouldn't you say?"

Yet another surprise voice had sounded out from behind their little squadron. Lynn sighed, turning to see which snooty auction worker had decided to harass them this time.

It was a woman. She was coming gracefully down a spiral staircase that led to the open second story, and she was grinning rather slyly at them. Lynn had to notice the killer black heels and the plain, swishy black dress. She also had to notice the woman's wavy, dark brown hair, pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck, little waves framing her face.

It was a really pretty face. She had big, apple-like cheeks and perfect pink lips and dark hazel eyes.

Dean smacked Sam in the back, checking the woman out, his eyes roving over her ample curves and long, white legs.

Lynn rolled her eyes, and glanced at Sam. Immediately, she frowned, not liking the look on his face.

He frowned too, first at the woman and then at the painting, and then he turned and smiled slightly, his brow still puckered.

"Well, I'd say it's more Grant Wood than Grandma Moses."

The woman looked slightly shamed by that, but was still smiling as she looked at the floor.

"But you knew that," Sam went on, also smiling. "You just wanted to see if I did."

The smile was so weird, Lynn decided, unable to tear her eyes from Sam's face. It was this foreign, almost flirty, slightly too confident grin. In a way, it reminded her of the little smiles she used to get, back when they'd first met, on the rare occasion that she wasn't flustering him by coming on too strong.

She did not like this at all.

"Guilty," the woman said. "And clumsy. I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake."

She held out her hand. Sam shook it.

"Sam," he replied. "This is my…"

He stopped, looking at Dean as he swiped more appetizers from a passing tray. "My brother Dean," he finished, looking embarrassed.

"Dean," Sarah nodded, still smiling. "Can we get you some more mini quiche?"

Dean smirked at her, mouth full. "Mm-mm, no. I'm good."

Sam sighed, shaking his head. "This is Jayne," he went on, gesturing at Lynn's stepsister. Jayne actually shook Sarah's hand and forced out a smile for her. "And this is Lynn. Our business partners."

Sarah smiled at both of them – god, did she ever stop smiling? Lynn shook Sarah's offered hand, but smirked at her rather than smiled. Somehow, she already didn't like this girl. Sarah seemed genuinely friendly, despite her snobby father, but Lynn didn't buy the nice girl act for a moment.

Sarah was a fake, Lynn decided.

"So, can I help you with something?" Sarah asked.

She was looking right at Sam. Lynn glowered. She glanced at Jayne, suddenly feeling the other woman's eyes. Jayne was frowning in her direction. 'What is your deal?' her stepsister mouthed at her.

Lynn shrugged. 'Nothing,' she mouthed back.

Jayne rolled her eyes.

"Um, yeah, actually," Sam was saying to the pretty art dealer. "What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?"

"The whole thing's pretty grisly if you ask me," Sarah replied. "Selling their things so soon? But Dad's right about one thing – sensationalism brings out the crowds. Even the rich ones."

She smirked playfully.

Sam's nose crinkled up as he grinned back, seemingly surprised by the comment – surprised and amused. Lynn chewed the inside of her cheek, clenching her fists inside her coat pockets.

Dean saw it too, if the way his eyebrow cocked was anything to judge by. She tried to catch his eye, but Dean was preoccupied with the show – the sick, mating ritual of a show.

"Is it possible to see the provenances?" Sam asked.

"I'm afraid there isn't any chance of that."

That same haughty male voice from before spoke again. Daniel Blake appeared beside his daughter, his face smug yet unsmiling.

Sam swallowed. "Why not?"

"You're not on the guest list," Daniel replied. He turned to Dean, raising a triumphant eyebrow. "And I think it's time to leave."

"Well, we don't have to be told twice," Dean retorted.

"Apparently, you do," Daniel said.

"Ok," Sam spoke up, taking control of the situation. "It's all right. We don't want any trouble. We'll go."

He took Dean by the shoulder and steered him away – but not before giving Sarah Blake one last apologetic smile.

She returned the smile, also looking apologetic, as though she understood the trouble of having a rude, obnoxious family member.

Which was fair, Lynn had to concede. Sarah and Sam did have that in common.

She followed Sam and Dean through the crowd, glad to be leaving. Jayne had pushed past her, and was ahead, closer to Dean. Dean was grumbling under his breath, most likely vague threats and immature insults, none of which Lynn was close enough to hear.

"Oh, you will not," Jayne said suddenly, in response to one of Dean's grumblings. "Rein it in, Dean."

Sam sighed and glanced back at her. Lynn gave him a brilliant smile.

He smiled back, and rolled his eyes in Dean's direction. And then he looked beyond her, back towards the painting, back towards Sarah Blake.

Lynn's mouth twitched. Her stomach was turning and her nostrils were tightening. She was annoyed. She was pissed.

Hell, she'd admit it. She was jealous.

* * *

Sam was frustrated.

He was mostly frustrated because of Dean, who had apparently concocted some sort of harebrained scheme concerning art dealer Daniel Blake's daughter, Sarah, while they were driving from the auction house to the motel strip on the edge of town.

They'd picked a place called the Boogie Inn – Dean's decision, of course – and after taking a quick look at the mod furniture and eye-crossing black and white décor, they'd dropped their stuff on their beds and began talking about the case.

He should have waited until Jayne and Lynn had finished getting their room in order so he could have gotten their opinions too. But he hadn't, and now he was paying the price.

Dean had handed him the phone, and Sam had taken it.

"We're not getting anything out of Chuckles," Dean had said. "But Sarah…"

"Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin," Sam had replied.

"Not me."

"No, no, no, no. Pick-ups are your thing."

"Hey, it wasn't my butt she was checking out."

At first, Sam had resisted. He felt weird using Sarah Blake for information like that. He felt weird taking her out period. He didn't want to do it. He was out of his comfort zone.

But when Dean had whipped out the phone and ordered him to call her…

Well, here he was, in the sitting area of the motel room, listening to the ringing of the Blake auction house phone. He'd caved. He was going to do it; he was going out on a _date_.

A real date. Not a beer in a rundown townie bar post hunt with Lynn Juarez… an actual sit down, chat up the woman across the table, eat dinner date.

"Hello, you've reached Daniel Blake Auctions and Estates," a feminine, friendly voice answered the phone. "My name is Sarah. How can I help you today?"

"Sarah?" Sam asked, taken by surprise. "Um… it's Sam Connors."

"Oh, hello, Sam. I'm surprised to be hearing from you so soon."

Sam chuckled weakly. "Yeah, uh…"

Nothing. He trailed off and said nothing. His mind drew a complete blank.

"Not that I'm not glad," Sarah added, sounding a little concerned. "I'd been hoping for an opportunity to apologize. I'm afraid my father was… unnecessarily abrupt with you."

"Oh, that's all right," Sam assured her. "Um… just a little mix up. It happens. Um…"

What the hell was he trying to say? His ears were getting warm now, undoubtedly turning bright pink.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, actually," he said too quickly, and then immediately got lost in his brain again. It had been too long since he'd done something like this. Years, in fact.

"Sam? You still there?"

It sounded like she was trying not to laugh. Sam gave his head a little shake and cleared his throat. "Um, yeah… sorry… I was just thinking. About the showing?"

"Yes?"

"I wanted to discuss some of the pieces further with you. Um… I thought maybe we could go… uh…"

He swallowed. "I'm sorry?" Sarah asked. "What was that?"

Sam shook his head, sighing. He was screwing this up royally. "Uh… I just thought… maybe… um… would you like to have dinner with me?"

There was a pause. Sam flinched, rubbing his head.

"Sure," Sarah said. "Tonight?"

Sam blinked. "Uh… yeah. Sounds great. I'll pick you up?"

"All right. Seven?"

"Seven… seven works."

"See you then," she said. "Pick me up at the auction house."

And then she hung up the phone.

Sam sat in his chair, still holding the phone to his ear, staring in shock at the shiny, circle-themed, transparent partition between the seating area and the beds.

Dean poked his head out of the bathroom. "How'd it go?" he asked.

Sam looked at him, still in shock. "She said ok."

Dean cackled. "Knew it."

He ducked back inside the bathroom. Sam stared at the empty doorway for a moment, and then gave his head a shake, putting the phone down.

He had a date with Sarah Blake.

* * *

Lynn was calling her brother.

She didn't know if he'd pick up the phone, but when he'd pulled out of West Virginia the week before, she'd promised to be upfront with him about what was going on in her life. She still hadn't told him about a big, important piece of her life – the mystery that was her mother. More importantly, that mystery was kicking her ass, and she could really use his help.

She sat down in the mostly black sitting area of her disco-themed motel room, separated from the mostly white bedroom by black beaded curtains. Her brother's phone rang and rang and rang. Just when she began to think he was going to ignore her, Steve answered the phone. "Hey, sis, what's shaking?"

She laughed, mostly out of relief. "Hey," she said. "I, uh… I thought maybe…"

"You thought maybe I wasn't going to pick up?" he finished for her. "Yeah, I guess I deserve that."

"Sorry."

"No, no. You're right. I'm less than dependable. But I promised to keep in touch this time, right? I'm going to keep my word."

She smiled slightly, even though he couldn't see her. "What's happening?" he asked.

"Um… I just… I wanted to know how you were doing."

"Me? Oh, you know. Alive and all."

"Good. That's good."

Man, she was such a chicken.

"You just calling to chat then?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah… I mean… no. No, I'm not."

"Didn't think so. What's going on?"

Lynn hesitated. She sighed. "Um… remember back in Iowa, when I was asking you about my mom?"

"Yeah. Something about a psychic. I remember. So… what's up?"

"Well, I did a little poking around."

"Of course you did."

"Shut up. Look, I got my hands on her death certificate a while back, and then I talked to Rufus about it, and he confirmed what it said…"

"Slow down there. You got a copy of her death certificate?"

"Yeah."

"All right. Well, what did it say?"

Lynn sighed again. "My mom didn't die in childbirth. That was just something Dad told me to… well, I don't really know why he told me that. I guess to protect me."

"What are you talking about, Lynn?"

"Look, the death certificate has a date of death more than a year after my birthday. It also claims the death was accidental. But when I called Rufus to ask him what the hell was going on, he told me she took a four-story fall from her apartment window."

Silence. Lynn chewed her lip, staring out the motel room window as she waited for her brother to say something. Her eyes went to the parking lot, and the truck, where Jayne was rooting around in the bed.

"Steve?" she asked after a moment. "You still there?"

"Hold up," Stephen said. "So… your mom. Inez. She didn't die in childbirth."

"No."

"You were a year old when she _did_ die."

"Yeah."

"And she fell out a window?"

Lynn shut her eyes, massaging her forehead. "Well… that's up in the air."

"What do you mean?"

"Rufus told me she fell, but he didn't know how. The death certificate says it was an accident, but then I went to Brooklyn a few days ago."

"What happened in Brooklyn?"

"I talked to the man who owned her apartment building. He says it was suicide. So, now…"

"You don't know what to think?"

"Precisely."

"I don't get it. Why would Dad tell us she died in childbirth?"

"That's just it," Lynn said, so frustrated she could cry. "I don't know, Steve! Rufus told me this whole story about hoodoo and witches and how Dad met my mom on a job, and… I'm worried, Steve."

Her words petered out in a high squeak. She swallowed and shook her head, blinking furiously at the sudden stinging in her eyes. Every time she tried to talk about this stuff, the same crap happened. Lynn took a deep breath.

"Whoa," her brother was saying into the phone, his tone soothing. "Hey. Lynn. Calm down. What's to worry about? What do you think happened?"

She took another deep breath, trying to relax. "I don't know," she said slowly. "But… Rufus said Dad was working on some hunt involving hoodoo and witches in Brooklyn. That's how he met my mom. And then… he said after I was born, Dad just took me. Just like that. Like Inez had never even considered keeping me. He thought… he thought that maybe my mom had been involved in the hoodoo stuff."

There was a pause. Lynn chewed her lip again. "Well, that's not necessarily a bad thing," Steve said. "I mean… hoodoo isn't bad, Lynn. Deedee makes those charms and grows those herbs and stuff to ward off demons and things, so maybe…"

"Rufus thought she'd gotten into something dark, Steve. He thought Dad took me because he was afraid, and he didn't want me mixed up in something like that. He wanted me as far away from my mother and her hoodoo as he could get me."

Silence. Lynn turned from the window and pulled on the purple threads sticking out of her chair's upholstery. She cleared her throat. "I found something else," she whispered nervously. "In Brooklyn. I have an aunt, Steve. My mom had a sister. I don't know where she is now, but she was still alive when my mother died. If I could find her…"

"Whoa. Back up. You have an aunt?"

Lynn swallowed and took another deep breath. The deep breaths, try as she might, were not calming her down. "Yes," she said. "I have an aunt. Her name is Maria Rodriguez. My mother's obit names her as a survivor."

Her brother was quiet for a moment. "Well… was she still in Brooklyn?" he asked after a few seconds.

"I don't know," Lynn replied. "I don't think so. I looked for her, Steve, but if she had been in Brooklyn, I don't think she's there anymore. I can't be sure she was ever there. I mean, Jayne and Sam said she might have never left Puerto Rico."

There was another pause. She heard her brother sigh into the phone.

"Look," she told him. "You wanted me to be straight with you, so I thought I should keep you in the loop about all this. And… I know you've got a lot on your plate, but…"

"Stop," he interrupted. "You don't even have to ask me, Lynn. I'll look into this too. See if I can't figure out where Maria Rodriguez ended up."

She breathed in relief. "Thanks, Steve."

"Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked. "No demons?"

"Things have been quiet."

"Well, that's good."

"Yeah."

Again, more silence. Lynn debated telling him about the feeling – the odd, unsupported-by-evidence feeling that she was being watched. The idea that something had been stalking her in Brooklyn… the eyes on the back of her head in the motel parking lot the night before…

She didn't tell him. She hadn't told anyone. She felt stupid even thinking about it.

The door to the motel room opened just then, and Jayne ducked inside. "Hey," she announced. "Dean told me Sam's taking… oh, sorry."

She stopped talking, noticing the phone in Lynn's hands. Lynn smiled at her.

"You want to talk to Jayne?" she asked her brother.

"Uh… yeah. Yeah, I better."

Lynn took the phone from her ear and held it out towards Jayne. "It's Steve."

Jayne's eyes lit up as she took the phone. "Thanks," she said. "Um… Sam's taking Sarah to dinner tonight. You know, chat her up, try to get her to hand over the provenances."

Lynn's face fell. She tried to smile and nod, but suddenly she was sick to her stomach.

"Good," she replied, too brightly.

"Yeah," Jayne agreed. Then she put the phone to her ear. "Hey, Steve. What's up?"

Lynn sat perfectly still in the sitting area as Jayne wandered back towards the beds, talking to their brother. She tuned out the words, turning to the window, her arms folded over her chest.

It was a good thing, Sam taking out Sarah. She'd seemed to like him, and they needed those provenances if they were ever going to figure out which of the Telescas' belongings was cursed or haunted. There was no other way to know which of their antiques had belonged to the other victims Sam had cited in John Winchester's journal. Still, she couldn't help that jealous prickle in the pit of her stomach. She hated the idea of Sam taking out Sarah. She'd seen the look on Sam's face when he'd first seen the pretty young art dealer, and it made her nervous.

Sam liked Sarah too much.

* * *

The moment Sam knew he was in trouble came at the very beginning of the date, after the waiter had seated them and handed him the wine list. He'd browsed through the wines, looking at prices, wishing he knew enough about wine to fake it the way he had with the art, and then Sarah had said it.

"I don't know about Romeo here, but I'll have a beer."

He'd been nervous from the get-go, because Sarah was beautiful and he was out of practice. It was more than that, though, if he really wanted to analyze the strange way he was feeling about the woman. There was just something about Sarah Blake.

She was rich and educated and obviously of the upper-upper crust of society, but under the layers of money and manners and refinement, she was refreshingly normal. Not only had she kept herself from falling into the same snooty trap her father had, she could even laugh at her father and the people like him.

They'd had their dinner and were now three beers in. Their conversation had ranged all over; from the décor of the restaurant (a high ceiling place with brushed cement walls and dim lighting and a mural of the Revolutionary army to the left of the bar) to their respective college careers.

"So, you studied art in school, huh?" he asked, surprised. Sarah dealt with art, true, but he'd figured her more for a business major. She looked the part.

"It's true," she said, smiling. "I was an artist. A terrible, _terrible_ artist."

He laughed. She did too, shrugging. "That's why I'm in the auction business," she went on. "And you were pre-law?"

"Yeah."

"But you didn't go to law school. How come?"

Sam crinkled his nose because the answer to that question was one he had no intention of giving. "It's a _really_ long story for another time."

Then he drank from his beer to cover the evasion.

"You're not like any art dealer I've ever met," Sarah announced, looking at him hard. Sam shifted uncomfortably, wondering how she did that – smile with both her mouth and her eyes, and yet still scrutinize every line in his face.

Sam sensed danger and changed the subject. "So what did you mean earlier when you said you hadn't been on a date in awhile?" he asked, giving her a grin. "Trying to make me feel like I'm not such a loser?"

She smiled again. "I'm sure you're many things, Sam. I'm also sure 'loser' isn't one of them."

He ducked his head, still smiling. She looked down at the table, her own smile fading.

"It was my mom," she announced.

Sam looked up, interested.

"She died about a year ago," Sarah told him. "Totally unexpected. It really threw me."

Sam swallowed, all ears, staring intently at the woman across the table.

"I went into this shell," she explained, tensing her shoulders. "This nice, warm, safe shell."

Silence.

"But lately I've been thinking," Sarah said, trying to smile again. "It's not what she would have wanted for me. So…"

Her hazel eyes went all distant on him. She stared at a point across the room, not even really seeing it, he was sure. Sam stared at her. He got it. For a brief moment, he felt this strange, unexpected connection with Sarah Blake – a woman that, on all other levels, he was sure could never understand him. Here, there could be an understanding. Suddenly, he wanted to talk about Jessica.

"So what about you?" Sarah asked too brightly, snapping out of her reverie. "You're a reasonably attractive guy."

He laughed, pushing back the thoughts about Jessica. "Reasonably," he repeated with an amused nod.

"Why haven't you been out and about?"

Sam stopped. The smile faded a bit. He trained his eyes on the tablecloth. He could tell her about Jessica. She didn't need to know the details – only that Jessica had died. Still, the words stuck in his throat. He swallowed, unable to tell her about the pretty, golden-haired girl from Stanford with the sweetest disposition in the world. His tongue felt like cotton in his mouth.

Sarah nodded, her eyes going to the tablecloth too. "Another long story for another time," she mused.

Sam closed his partially open mouth and nodded.

They left the restaurant soon after, eventually finding their way back to the joking atmosphere of earlier that evening. He asked about the provenances for the Telesca estate sale, and Sarah willingly invited him into the auction house, continued making conversation as she dug out the paperwork, and then handed them over with a big bright smile on her face.

She'd stared at him with those odd, pretty eyes of hers, still smiling, looking up at him expectantly. Sam stared back, hesitating, eyes traveling to her glossy pink lips. He leaned in. She did too.

His lips landed in the wrong place, brushing gently against her cheek. He pulled back. She was still smiling at him, but her eyebrows were puckered in a confused little frown. Sam smiled back, nodding nervously.

"Good night," he said.

She nodded, taking a step back, looking disappointed. "Good night, Sam."

He practically ran for the car.

* * *

Dean was ready to shoot himself in the head.

Sam had been on his date with Sarah Blake for a couple hours now, and Dean was wondering if his brother would be back soon or not. Dean would be surprised if his brother _did_ stay out late with the art dealer. The girl was pretty, and Sam seemed impressed by her at the auction house, but this was Sam they were talking about.

Sam's absence was not the reason Dean wanted to shoot himself in the head. Actually, he'd be glad if Sam stayed out all night. The kid needed a little shore leave. No, the reason Dean wanted to shoot himself in the head was currently sitting in a purple chair in his motel room, just under the front window.

Lynn had popped by a few minutes ago, saying Jayne would be over shortly to work on the hunt – or wait for Sam and the provenances – and ever since she'd sat down, she'd done nothing but complain.

"I don't understand why Sam had to take this chick out," she was saying now. "I mean, isn't that usually _your_ area of expertise?"

"Usually," he smirked, trying to focus on the TV. "But this girl preferred Sam."

Lynn looked sour. He offered another smirk. "I'm as shocked as you are."

She glared at him. "I don't get it," she said again. "Couldn't we have just broken into the place and stolen the provenances?"

"Yeah, if you want to spend all night poking through files," Dean retorted. "It's just easier if Sarah gives them up willingly."

"I guess so," she murmured, although she didn't sound convinced.

Dean rolled his eyes and redirected his attention at the TV screen.

"Just because she likes Sam though," Lynn started up again. "I don't know. It seems mean to give her false expectations. Sam isn't interested."

Dean said nothing. That course of action proved futile.

"Is he?" she prodded.

Dean sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Seemed pretty into her back at the auction house."

Lynn didn't like hearing that, Dean could tell. But he wasn't there to protect the feelings of crazy chicks that slept with his brother and then pretended they just wanted to be friends. He was there because this was _his_ motel room, and he wanted to watch TV.

"Well, that's fine," she said. She didn't mean it – anyone could tell. "I guess I'm just surprised. He didn't mention anything about liking her."

"Well, he wouldn't," Dean replied. "He's Sam."

Silence. Lynn sat at the table, studying her nails. Dean relaxed, focusing again on the TV.

"I didn't notice anything though," she spoke again. Dean groaned inwardly. "At the auction house. I mean, I guess _maybe_ they were flirting, but… I don't know."

"Mm-hmm."

"Sam doesn't really flirt, you know," she went on. "Sam's not into all that."

"Yeah."

"I don't really see what's so great about her."

Dean cocked an eyebrow. "I mean, I'm no judge of desirable women," she was quick to cover. "I just mean… she didn't really stick out to me. Like, at all."

"I don't know," Dean returned, mostly just to piss her off. "I thought she was smoking hot."

Lynn glared at him again. He hid a smirk with his hand. "You think every woman is smoking hot," she retorted.

"Nu-uh," he defended himself. "Not all of them. A lot of them, maybe, but…"

"Your opinion is worth the equivalent of crap."

"Hey, I might not be the most discerning of guys, but even you got to admit that Sarah chick's got it going on."

Lynn looked sour again. "Maybe," she grumbled.

"Hey, you're a good-looking girl too, if that's what you're on about."

"_What_?" she snapped.

Dean backtracked immediately. "Whoa, sorry, I didn't mean…"

"This is not about me," she cut him off.

He could call her a liar, but he decided he'd like to keep his head attached to his body. "No one said it was."

"Good," she said. "Because it's not. I don't care if Sam likes her. He can like her. That's fine by me."

"Never meant to imply that it wasn't."

"Sam and I are just friends," she barreled on. "That's it."

"Except for the benefits, you mean."

She glowered, and Dean regretted opening his mouth. "Uh… I mean…"

"Sam and I have a very uncomplicated relationship," Lynn retorted, in full ice princess mode. "Maybe sex is occasionally involved, but we are mostly just friends. Barely even friends. More like hunting partners… or drinking buddies…"

"Sam doesn't really drink."

"You know what I meant. Why do men always think every time a woman comments on another woman it automatically means they're jealous?"

Dean was tempted to inform her that she _was _jealous, and everyone knew it, but he thought better of it.

"I am not jealous of Sarah Blake," she went on. "I'm just surprised that Sam would be interested in her. Sam's not usually interested in dating. He has other things on his mind."

"Right."

"And anyway, I don't really think Sarah is his type."

Sarah was his type, actually, if Lynn was anything to judge by – dark hair and super curvaceous – and her personality fell right in line with that of the girls Sam had dated growing up. Sam liked good girls, and he always had. Actually, Lynn was the one who wasn't Sam's type, if they were judging by personality alone.

"Dean?" Lynn pressed. He'd been silent too long. "Do you think Sarah's his type?"

It was a dangerous question to be answering, and so Dean was grateful when a knock on the door spared him from commenting.

"Oh, thank god," he announced, getting to his feet and rushing for the door. "Somebody sane."

He flung open the door, ushering Jayne into the room. "Talk to your sister," he ordered, shoving her in the direction of Lynn's table.

Then he flopped down in one of the lounge chairs and returned to the TV.

Jayne blinked at them both. "Uh… what's going on?"

"Dean's being a jerk," Lynn replied.

"Ah," Jayne drawled, taking a seat at the small round table in the center of the room. "That's a shocker."

"Can it, Goldilocks."

"We were talking about Sam," Lynn pushed on. "And Dean took what I said the wrong way, because he's a womanizing jerk who traffics in female stereotypes."

"Yeah," Dean rolled his eyes. "That's what happened."

"I don't want to know anything else," Jayne returned. "Seriously. Don't fill me in."

"You really don't want to know why I'm upset with him? Seriously? You're not going to ask me about it like a good sister?"

"I don't want to know anything ever."

"Sometimes I really hate you," Lynn informed her stepsister.

"Back at you."

"I don't know why I care," Lynn added with a sigh. She waved her hand dismissively at Jayne. "I mean, you'll just take his side anyway."

"Will not. You're both wrong."

"You don't even know what we're talking about!"

"Who needs to know? Dean's always a jerk, and you're always crazy. Thus, you're both wrong."

"Hey, now," Dean spoke up, only half serious. Lynn was glowering at her sister, but Dean couldn't feel upset. He knew he should be offended, but he was having a hard time trying not to laugh.

"I want to kill you," Lynn announced. "Really. I want to claw your eyes out."

"Love you too."

He tried to keep his eyes on the TV. Dean was glad to see Jayne, because with her around, Lynn would leave him alone. Still, he felt awkward, and he wasn't sure he could entirely blame Jayne for it. It was him, mostly. For some reason, he could not keep his eyes off her. He tried to focus on the TV, but his eyes kept wandering back in her direction.

"What do you think about Sarah Blake?" Lynn demanded.

Jayne sighed, sounding harassed. "Here we go."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what that is supposed to mean."

"If that was true, I wouldn't have asked."

"Look, Sam's just trying to get the provenances out of her. Don't panic; he hasn't proposed yet."

Lynn snorted. "Whatever. I could care less if he did propose."

"All right."

Dean raised an eyebrow at Jayne's tone. Lynn pounced on the words. "What?" she snapped.

Jayne pretended to look confused. "What do you mean what?"

"What is that tone?"

"I don't have a tone."

"You do too. It's that sarcastic, 'I don't believe a word you're saying' tone."

"If you're trying to convince me you don't care that Sam's on a date with a woman that's not you, you're not doing it right."

The door swung open. Sam walked in, all decked out in his suit and tie, carrying a bundle of paperwork.

Dean sighed in relief, turning off the TV. "Finally."

Lynn had fallen silent immediately, flushing a bright red. Dean watched her droop lower in her chair. He almost felt bad. Dean knew Lynn was jealous. He knew she liked his brother a lot more than she was saying. He even knew that Sam liked Lynn back a lot more than _he_ was saying. Maybe he shouldn't have pushed this Sarah Blake thing.

At the same time, Sam had given Sarah a look he hadn't given anyone since they'd all been hunting that demon back in Pennsylvania and Sam and Lynn had first started getting to know one another. Dean liked seeing that look. He wanted Sam to be happy. Maybe Sarah was a better candidate for that job than Lynn. Honestly, the closer Sam got to Lynn, the more miserable he looked.

"Hey," Sam said, nodding at everyone. He dropped the papers on the table, and then set about shucking off his suit jacket and undoing his tie.

"Hey," Dean replied. He wiggled his eyebrows. "Have fun?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sure."

"Did you get the provenances?" Lynn asked.

"Yeah," he returned, tossing his tie at his bed.

"How'd you convince her to give them up?" Dean asked slyly.

Sam sighed, glaring at him over his shoulder. Dean smirked. Sam flopped down in a chair, and picked up one of the papers.

"I asked for them," he retorted. "Is anyone going to help me read these?"

Lynn got too quickly to her feet and snatched up a few of the papers still on the table. Dean raised an eyebrow, and then glanced at Jayne.

She raised an eyebrow back, shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'what do you do?' and then headed for the provenances.

Dean sighed and took her lead, grabbing a paper off the table. He tried to read through it, but he failed. Again, he found himself glancing at Jayne. His eyes strayed immediately to her lips and lingered there, then traveled down her exposed, pale white neck… he stared too long, remembering what was beneath the flannel collar of her shirt, remembering her breath in his ear…

Dean shook his head clear, trying to snap out of it. "So she just handed the providences over to you?" he asked his brother, hoping to distract himself.

"Prov-_en-an-_ces," Sam corrected, irritably. "And yeah. We went back to her place, I got a copy of the papers…"

"And?"

"And nothing. That's it. I left."

"You didn't have to con her, or do any special favors or anything like that…?"

Dean trailed off, trying to figure out why he'd thought he could distract himself from thinking about sex by talking about sex. Sam sighed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"Dean, would get your head out of the gutter, please?"

Silence.

"You know, when this is all done, maybe we could stick around," Dean said.

"Why?"

"So you could take her out again. It's obvious you're into her. Even I can see that."

Lynn looked up from her paperwork and leveled him with a glare. Dean faltered, swallowing, and looked away quickly.

"Hey," Sam quickly changed the subject. "All right, I think I got something here."

Dean crossed the room and took the papers Sam handed him. "Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family, painted 1910," he read out loud.

"Which one was that?" Jayne asked. "The hideous, creepy one?"

Dean nodded, eyes traveling over the description. "Looks like."

"It's the same painting we were looking at in the auction house," Sam spoke up. "Now compare the owners of that painting with Dad's journal."

Dean didn't want to do that. The journal was out already, lying on the table to the left of Sam, right by the chair Jayne was sitting in. He swallowed and leaned over her. She pushed the journal towards him a little too quickly. He didn't know whether to be offended or relieved. She didn't want him near her – but that was only because she felt it too. She felt the awkward, painful, sexual tension.

Wasn't sex supposed to cure the sexual tension?

He flipped a page in the notebook and frowned at the list of upper New York deaths his father had accumulated. "First purchased in 1912 by Peter Simms," he read. "Peter Simms murdered 1912."

He looked up at Sam, who nodded. Lynn frowned at him, putting her papers down on the table and leaning forward. Jayne, still sitting far too close to him, was eyeing the journal too.

"Same thing in 1945," Dean went on. "Same thing in 1970."

"Then stored," Sam interrupted. "Until it was donated to a charity auction last month, where the Telescas bought it."

Silence.

"So, what do you think?" Sam asked after a moment. "The painting's haunted or cursed?"

Dean shrugged. "Either way, it's toast."

* * *

Jayne's understanding of the term 'unresolved sexual tension' was that once the so-called sexual tension had been resolved, the tension was supposed to dissipate.

Maybe she'd misunderstood the term and all its implications. Fact was, sleeping with Dean had done nothing to dissipate any sort of tension. It had only heightened it.

She couldn't stop staring at him. She kept sneaking little glances at totally inappropriate parts of his body. More importantly, she wasn't the only one staring. Every time they were together, she could feel his eyes on her. It was unnerving.

What the hell had she done?

Right now, she was in the backseat of the Impala, sitting next to her sister and trying to concentrate on the window and not the back of Dean's neck, the bare skin peaking above the faded black collar of his coat.

Jayne swallowed and shook her head. Ever since the night before, her thoughts kept returning to one thing and one thing only… sex.

Dean pulled through the open gate of a barbed wire fence into an empty, dirt-packed lot around the corner from the auction house. He parked several feet from the road, behind a line of pine trees. Jayne pulled on a pair of gloves as she climbed out of the Impala. The four of them made their way up the road, sticking to the shadows. Soon they reached the locked back gate of the auction house's truck entrance. Dean crept up to the gate first, his back to the red brick security wall, and squinted into the loading yard.

"I don't see a guard," he whispered back at them. "Camera's doing its sweep… go! Now!"

And then he vaulted onto the wrought iron gate and climbed it with lightening speed. Seconds later, he dropped down inside the lot, hissing at the rest of them to follow.

Jayne leapt up after him, hauling herself up the gate and swinging herself over the top. Her boots hit the pavement on the other side just as Sam reached the top of the gate. Lynn took a running leap and caught hold of the fence, swinging herself up and over.

The lighting in the auction house's back lot was bad to begin with, and the night air was cold, causing the sewer grates and manhole covers freckling the drive to spit steam and fog. They all ran for cover, each vanishing into the unsettlingly warm clouds, rushing for the back door. It was hard to see in the thick fog, and several times Jayne nearly ran into one of the many stacks of packing crates and pallets before even seeing that the stack was there.

But the fog was a blessing as well as an obstacle, keeping them hidden from the night guard – and there was sure to be a night guard around somewhere, doing his nightly sweep of the loading yard. So when they reached the last stack of crates and the fog thinned, Jayne inwardly cursed. She saw the guard vaguely through the mist – more shadow than person – and she ducked behind the packing materials.

Jayne was still a moment, watching the night guard through the spaces in between pallets. Someone ducked in beside her and she jumped, turning to the side, her hand hovering over her gun.

Dean nodded at her, sliding up to the pallets and taking a peek at the guard. Jayne's shoulders slumped in her relief. She poked him in the arm, whispering, "Where's Sam and Lynn?"

"Behind the crates on our right," he whispered back. His warm breath hit her ear and Jayne barely repressed a shudder.

"Shit," he muttered suddenly. He grabbed her arm and pushed her back along the pallet tower, eyes on the guard. Jayne looked through the spaces between pallets and saw the guard advancing towards their hiding spot.

Dean steered her around the corner of the stack, until the two of them were pressed between their original hiding spot and a second stack of wooden pallets directly beside it. Jayne tried to focus on the movements of the watchman, but it was difficult in the tiny, confined space, shoved up against Dean's side, his gloved hand around her arm, his breath in her ear and the warmth of his body radiating against hers…

Such a mistake. Why the hell had she thought last night was a good idea? She'd had this trouble before… being too close to him, thinking about the s-e-x word, but now that it had happened… it was ten times worse.

She heard Dean swallow. "He's gone," he announced.

"Good," she said, too quickly. Then she was marching for the back entrance of the auction house, desperate to put some distance between herself and Dean. She heard his footsteps behind her.

They met Sam and Lynn at the door. Sam was already at the alarm box, unscrewing the front of the key pad. Dean was digging his lock-picking tools out of his coat, kneeling down by the door as Sam fumbled with the wires in the alarm box. Jayne turned her back, eyes on the fog and the packing crates, watching for any sign of the watchman's return.

Lynn stood next to her, offering her eyes up for the task as well, although Jayne could hear her fidgeting and sighing in annoyance. They'd pulled off complicated break-ins before, so Jayne couldn't cite simple impatience as the source of her stepsister's irritation. She supposed it was all tied in somehow to Sam and Sarah Blake.

She didn't like to see her stepsister hurt, but it was difficult to get too concerned. Jealousy wasn't heartbreak, and tomorrow morning they'd pull out of New Paltz, leaving Sarah and her auction house behind for good. Lynn had no real competition here, no real reason to worry… and to be honest, Jayne was too worried that she'd seriously fucked up her friendship with Dean to care a whole lot about Sam and Lynn.

"Go ahead," Sam said suddenly.

Jayne turned, hearing the tumbler click in the lock. Dean shoved on the door and it opened without resistance. The alarm didn't sound.

They all headed inside. Jayne clicked on her flashlight, creeping slowly along the white marble floor, weaving her way through long tables and tall bureaus, her light bouncing off of the occasional antique mirror. It was hard to see what the pieces looked like in the dark, and Jayne didn't much care either. The only thing she wanted to see was that ugly painting of Isaiah Merchant and his creepy family.

The four of them fanned out on the first floor of the auction house. It seemed the painting had been moved from before. After several minutes of searching, Dean happened to look up at the open second floor, and the beam of his flashlight struck gold.

"Up there," he whispered.

They climbed the spiral iron staircase and hurried across the second floor. Jayne caught the painting in her flashlight and wrinkled her nose.

"Yuck," Lynn murmured beside her. "I really can't wait to burn that thing."

Jayne smirked at her.

Dean stepped up to the painting, his flashlight between his teeth, and opened his knife. The ripping of the canvas echoed throughout the dark, silent auction house. Instinctively Jayne glanced over her shoulder to see if the sound had attracted unwanted company.

The watchman didn't come. Dean cut the painting out of its frame, rolled it up, and shoved it inside his coat.

"Let's go," he said, turning back for the stairs.

The other three followed. Getting out was easier than getting in. They picked their way back through the auction house, still empty save for themselves, and snuck back out the door they'd come in through.

It wasn't necessary to duck from behind large crates to neighboring pallet stacks as they crossed the back lot. The watchman made no second appearance. They ran from one hiding spot to the other anyway, using the fog for cover, just in case.

They made it across the back lot and over the fence easily. Minutes later they were back at the car. They took the painting into the empty lot they'd parked beside and unrolled it in the dirt. Lynn took salt from her coat and sprinkled it on the painting. Dean lit a match and dropped it. The painting burst into flames.

The four of them stood in the empty lot and watched the painting burn. "Ugly ass thing," Dean announced. "If you ask me, we're doing the art world a favor."

Jayne raised an eyebrow in his direction, but he didn't look her way. Sam caught her eye and smiled.

"Thank god that's over," Lynn said. "Can we get the hell out of here?"

She was already headed for the car before anyone thought to answer her.

Jayne rolled her eyes, following behind the other three hunters. In a way, she agreed with her sister. She didn't like this town. She didn't like this hunt. Everything about it was weird and awkward and just plain different from all the ones that came before. Lynn knew it too, but that was only because of Sarah. It would be easy to get too comfortable with that arrangement of theirs, knowing Sam rarely even glanced at other women, knowing that Sam pretty much steered clear of any sort of connection with any of the people they met, even if it was simply carnal. But Sarah had sparked the kid's interest, thrown the order of things out of whack, and so it was expected that Lynn might be in a hurry to leave.

Jayne's discomfort was entirely her own doing. Things were weird and awkward and different because she and Dean had made them so. All she wanted was to go back to the way things were. She despised complications.

Still, leaving town wouldn't change anything. Things had to be different now, which was always easy to forget in the moment, when the alcohol had taken hold and they were taking off their clothes. They'd had their share of kisses, but they'd never talked about them. Kisses were easy to ignore, easy to forget, easy to dismiss as little accidents that didn't really matter – that were completely unimportant. But sex was something else. It required such effort, to remove all their clothes and come together; there could be no accident about sex. And when it came to her and to Dean, two people constantly together, two people who were already much closer than they should be… it couldn't be forgotten and it couldn't be ignored.

Dean started the car as she slumped against the back of her seat. They were pulling out and heading for the hotel now. When they left town, Lynn wouldn't be jealous anymore and Sam would eventually forget about Sarah, and everything in that corner would go back to normal.

She had to find some way to make everything normal between her and Dean again.

* * *

Lynn woke up the next morning feeling a lot happier than she'd been in a long time. It was a nice morning, sunny and relatively warm, and it was just nice knowing that they'd wrapped up the hunt and could leave town.

She finished packing up long before her sister. Jayne was still loading her bag as Lynn yanked the zipper closed on her duffel, smiling all the while, and then headed for the bathroom to grab her makeup bag.

"You seem happy," Jayne commented from the bedroom. She was standing at the far side of her bed, folding tank tops into her duffel. "What's up with that?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Lynn retorted, still grinning. "I can't be happy now?"

"Well, you're allowed to be happy… you just aren't. Ever."

"Bite me. I'm happy all the time."

"Whatever."

Lynn hefted her duffel onto her shoulder, hanging onto her makeup bag in the other hand. "I'm just glad we wrapped up the hunt without any major problems or near death experiences," she said. "Now we can leave and go find a hunt that isn't so easy. Aren't you happy?"

"So happy I'm beyond words."

"Crank."

Lynn waltzed out the motel room door, still smiling. Her sister's rusty gray truck was parked just outside the door, bed facing the motel. She tossed her duffel into the back of the truck and it landed with a loud _clunk!_ She tucked her makeup bag beside it.

Dean and Jayne could say whatever they wanted to about Sam and Sarah, but Lynn would never admit she was jealous – not to them, and certainly not to Sam. Admitting it to herself was another matter – she knew how she felt. She was a jealous person. That was all there was to it.

What she had with Sam was casual and he had every right to see Sarah if he wished – just like she had every right to see anyone she wanted to see. Fact was she had no claims on him. They were friends, and sometimes they were more. That didn't mean she liked _watching_ him exercise his freedom to do whatever he wanted. She didn't necessarily want to _see_ him dating other people, or _know _who they were.

She heard the creak of door hinges, followed by a loud slam. Lynn turned around, squinting against the bright morning sunlight, and saw Dean running out of his motel room door, Sam storming after him with murder in his eyes.

"Sam?" she called. "What's wrong?"

"Dean lost his damn wallet," Sam snapped.

Lynn blinked. Dean shrugged at her as he rounded the bumper of his Impala, parked directly beside the truck. "Whoops," he offered, climbing into the driver's seat and slamming the door.

Sam shook his head, obviously irritated. "He thinks he lost it in the auction house," he explained as Dean started the car. "Last night."

"What?" Lynn exploded.

"Yeah," Sam returned. "I got to go. We'll be back."

"Wait! Should we help…?"

"Don't worry about it. Just get ready, you know, in case we have to bail."

He climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala and slammed the door. Dean pulled out of the lot, tires squealing, and drove off down the road.

Lynn watched them go, still reeling, and shook her head.

There went her good mood.

* * *

Sam rushed into the auction house the moment the doors opened, Dean hot on his heels. They tore across the marble flooring, ducking around large columns and statues. Sam tried to retrace their steps from the night before, checking the back of the auction house, dropping down on his hands and knees and checking under all the furniture.

Nothing. Sam followed his brother towards the stairs, checking the inside of large urn. Dean ruffled the leaves of a nearby fern, checking the inside of the planter. Sam shook his head, his frustration doubling by the minute. "How do you lose your wallet, Dean?" he demanded.

Dean shrugged, opening the top of an antique cabinet. Sam shook his head again, thinking homicidal thoughts about his idiot older brother as he checked the ground around a stack of wooden boxes. He snatched a box off the top, looking inside the one underneath.

"Hey, guys!"

Sam froze. Sarah's voice rang out behind him, sounding happy to see him. He couldn't say the same. Hastily, he replaced the box and spun around, trying to look nonchalant.

"Sarah," he greeted her, forcing a grin. "Hey."

"What are you doing here?" Sarah asked, crossing the floor.

Sam swallowed, watching her come closer. She was smiling, clutching a clipboard by her waist. Her hair was up again, and she had on a tight gray skirt and an even tighter black sweater. She looked pretty… she _was_ pretty…

Sam swallowed again. "Uh..." he said. "Uh… we… we are actually leaving town... and… you know, we came to say goodbye."

"What are you talking about Sam?" Dean asked, sauntering up to the other two. Sam frowned at him, instantly disliking the cocky tone to his voice. "We're sticking around for at least another day or two."

Sam stared at his brother, floored. They weren't sticking around. They were leaving, that day. Lynn and Jayne were back at the motel packing it in. The hunt was over. And now that Dean had lost his wallet somewhere in the warehouse where they'd stolen the Isaiah Merchant painting, they _had_ to leave, just in case someone connected the dots…

"Oh, Sam," Dean added. "I almost forgot. Here's that twenty bucks I owe you."

And then he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his wallet. Sam gawked at him, the homicidal thoughts returning, as he opened the wallet and took out a twenty, offering it to Sam with a smirk.

Sam glared. Dean continued to smirk. Pissed, Sam yanked the twenty from his brother's fingers.

"Well," Dean said. "I'll leave you two crazy kids alone. I got to do something… somewhere…"

Sarah smirked at him. Dean gave Sam one last annoyingly smug grin, and then headed for the exit. Sam sighed, and mustered up another smile for Sarah. "So…" he said, and then trailed off, at a loss for words.

"I had a good time last night," Sarah offered, giving him another bright smile.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, laughing nervously. "Yeah, I did too."

"Maybe we could do it again some time."

Sam stared at her a moment. She was still smiling at him, that same sweet little smile she gave him over dinner the night before. He'd like to go out with her again, he admitted to himself. He wasn't going to, of course. Still, he did like her.

"You know, I'd love to," he told her. "I really would, but Dean… he was just screwing around. We really are leaving today."

"Oh," Sarah murmured. She glanced at the floor through her long, smudgy eyelashes, looking disappointed. "That's too bad."

Sam looked away, nodding awkwardly. Two men walked by, carrying a painting.

"Oh my god!" Sam exclaimed.

It wasn't just any painting. It was the painting of the Isaiah Merchant family that he, Dean, Lynn and Jayne had stolen and burned the night before. The exact same portrait in the exact same frame.

Sarah jumped, looking where he had looked. "What?"

"Uh…" Sam stuttered, frowning at her and then back at the painting. "That painting, uh… looks… so good."

"If you can call that monstrosity good," Sarah retorted skeptically. "Then, yeah, I guess…"

Sam was still gawking after the painting as the two workmen carted it away. "Sarah, what do you know about that painting?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him. "Not much. Just that it creeps me out. We sold it to the Telescas at a charity auction the night they were murdered."

"Yeah, and now you're just going to sell it again?"

She was still looking at him like he was nuts. "As much as my dad wants to… no, I won't let him. I think it would be in bad taste."

"Good," Sam agreed, albeit a tad too zealously. "You know what, don't. Don't, make sure you don't. Ok?"

"Why?" Sarah asked, frowning. "Don't tell me you're interested in that."

"No," Sam said quickly. "No, god, no. Not in buying it, no."

Sarah was still looking at him like he was nuts, and Sam couldn't blame her. He backed towards the exit, still stuttering awkwardly. "You know what, I got to go. I got to take care of something, but, uh… I will call you back. I will call you… I will see you later."

"Wait, so you're not leaving tonight?"

Sam faltered. Sarah was clinging to her smile, but her eyebrows were crinkled in confusion. "I guess not," he said. "Uh… later."

He ran out of the building.

Dean was waiting in the car when Sam slid into the passenger seat. "So, Sarah seemed glad to see you," he drawled.

Sam ignored the smirk. "Yeah, we don't have time for that," he snapped. "You know that painting of Isaiah Merchant and his family that we stole and burned last night?"

"What about it?"

"It's back."

Dean gawked at him. "What?"

"It's _back_."

"What do you mean, it's back? Like _Poltergeist_ back?"

"Yeah. Back in the frame, perfect condition… like we never touched it."

Dean gawked some more. He slumped back in his seat and loudly exhaled. "Crap."

"You can say that again."

"Crap."

Silence.

"I don't understand," Sam said suddenly. "I mean, we burned the damn thing."

"Thank you Captain Obvious."

More silence.

"All right," Dean announced. "We just have to figure out another way to get rid of it." He paused, crinkling one side of his face. "Any ideas?"

"Well, um… in almost all the lore about haunted paintings, it's always the painting's subject that haunts them."

"Yeah. So we have to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy ass family and that creepy ass painting."

Sam nodded.

"So… library?" Dean asked, sounding less than enthusiastic.

Sam dug his cell phone out of his coat pocket. "I'll call Lynn."

* * *

Jayne sighed, zipping up her duffel bag. "Will you stop that?" she snapped at her stepsister.

Lynn was pacing their motel room, winding back and forth from the sitting area to the bedroom area to the bathroom. She'd been doing it ever since Sam and Dean had pulled out about twenty minutes earlier. It was driving Jayne crazy.

"I can't help it," Lynn retorted. "I mean, of all the idiotic things someone could do…"

"Yeah, well, Dean's an idiot."

"He dropped his wallet in the warehouse where we stole that painting!"

"I heard you the first ten times."

"They better find it."

"Yeah."

Lynn fell silent and returned to her pacing. Jayne sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and contemplating whether or not she should finish loading the truck. Lynn's phone rang.

"Oh, thank god," Lynn breathed, fumbling for the phone. Jayne snorted, watching her struggle with her coat pocket and then the phone itself. "Sam?" Lynn demanded into the receiver.

Jayne watched her sister continue to pace. "What?" Lynn asked, her face contorting into a surprised, confused frown.

With a frown of her own, Jayne inched forward from behind her bed. "You're kidding," Lynn said into the phone. "But we burned it."

Jayne leaned against the disco-themed partition between the sitting area and the bedroom, folding her arms over her chest. "Ok, ok, we'll meet you there," Lynn went on. "Hold on, though. What about Dean's wallet?"

As Jayne watched, her stepsister's confused and surprised frown faded into something more sinister. "I see," she bit out. "Right. Bye."

Lynn hung up. "What happened?" Jayne asked.

"The painting we burned?" Lynn replied. "Not as burned as we thought."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Sam saw it today. At the auction house."

Jayne's stomach turned over. She swallowed, shaking her head. "Um… wait. The painting came back?"

Lynn nodded. "Yeah. It came back."

Jayne sighed. "Damn it."

"Exactly. This isn't over yet. I told Sam we'd meet him and Dean at the library in a few, so…"

"Right," Jayne agreed. "Ok."

Lynn shook her head, biting the inside of her mouth. "I can't believe this," she spat angrily. "I thought we were leaving today! Now we've got to stick around for god knows how long…"

"Well, there's nothing we can do to change that."

"I know."

Silence. Lynn glared at the carpet. Jayne frowned at her. "What happened with the wallet?" she asked.

Lynn laughed bitterly. "Oh, it wasn't lost."

"Sorry?"

"Dean didn't lose his wallet. He told Sam he lost his wallet so Sam would have to see Sarah Blake again."

More silence. Jayne blinked. Lynn glowered some more. "I'll be in the truck," she snapped suddenly. She snatched her coat from a nearby chair and stomped out of the room.

Jayne watched her leave. She shook her head again, absorbing the new info. The amazing self-rejuvenating painting was one thing, but Dean faking the lost wallet…

He was really pushing this Sam and Sarah thing. Sure, she knew as well as he did that the whole friends with benefits thing between Sam and Lynn was doomed to fail, but to actually throw Sam at this other girl…

What the hell did Dean think he was doing?


	54. Head Games

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to Lov3good, ColtFan165, krenee321, BlueEyedPisces, Penelope Halliwell, hornblowerarchiekennedyfan, AshlynPaige92, angeleyenc, ThreeMoons, Nelle07 and tiaracove for all the reviews!

Apologies for the long wait. I had a serious case of writer's block regarding this story. I promise to be at least a _little_ better, because I really want to finish this fic before the season premiere in September. Here's hoping I can pull it off… but don't hold me to it, because I think we all know that I _suck_ at updating. ;) Thanks for the reviews, and enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 54: Head Games

Dean hated the library.

He hated being quiet for long periods of time, he hated glaring librarians, he hated douchebags with laptops and to-go coffees, and he hated fluorescent lighting and stuffy rooms and thick dusty books.

Unsurprisingly, when he and Sam walked through the door of the New Paltz public library, he found it to be no different than any other library he'd even been in; stuffy, dusty and too quiet. The windows were too small and way too close to the ceiling, and most of the light came from the fluorescents. The carpet was old and dirty and an ugly shade of blue. Dean sighed, picking an obscure corner by the glass doors and leaning tiredly against the white wall. They hadn't even started the research yet, and he was already bored.

It was only a few minutes later when one of the glass doors swung open and Lynn came barreling inside, her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Jayne followed her in, looking as bored as he felt. Lynn spotted Dean and his brother first and yanked Jayne over to them.

"Hi," she greeted them, her hands on her hips and her tone sharper than necessary.

Sam gave her a quick smile. "Hey," he said. "Um… why don't we talk to the librarian first?"

Lynn nodded at him, her lips tight. "Fine."

Sam frowned at her a little, still trying to smile, and then took the lead. Lynn followed him to the circulation desk, and Dean found himself walking in step with Jayne.

"What's your sister's problem?" he asked.

Jayne shrugged. "She thought we were done."

"Well, yeah. So did the rest of us."

"I think she just wants to leave, that's all. Doesn't really like it here."

Dean nodded, deciphering the code. Lynn didn't really mind New Paltz, New York. Lynn minded Sarah Blake.

To his relief, the librarian behind the desk was a pudgy, excitable old man who was all too willing to help. He had white hair and a matching moustache, and he wore a blue sweater vest, a plaid shirt and little round glasses perched on his oversized nose. The moment Sam asked about the Isaiah Merchant family, the man stumbled out from behind the desk and went running off to get all the research _for_ them.

Best library day ever.

It took the librarian some time, but eventually he'd amassed quite a collection of books and newspaper clippings on a large Formica table in the center of the library. Dean rifled through a random book he'd picked up off a nearby bookshelf. The librarian slammed a heavy black book down on the desk, sending a cloud of dust into the air as Dean made his way back towards the other three hunters. "You said the Isaiah Merchant family, right?" the bespectacled librarian asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, standing nearby with his hands shoved inside his coat pockets. "That's right."

Dean took a seat on the edge of the table. Lynn sat down on the single chair, directly beside his knee. "I looked up every scrap of local lore I could find," the librarian announced. "Are you crime buffs?"

"Kind of," Dean said carefully. "Why do you ask?"

The librarian snatched an aging yellowed newspaper off the table and held it in front of him with a little too much excitement. The headline was about the Titanic sinking, with a huge photo of the doomed ship spread across the front page. Off to the side, dwarfed by the main story, was a short blurb about a murdered local family.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, gesturing at the article too. "That sounds about right."

"The whole family was killed?" Sam asked.

The librarian nodded, his voice lowering conspiratorially as though he were a camp counselor telling a ghost story around the bonfire. "It seems this Isaiah? He slits his kids throats, and then his wife's, and then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade. Used a straight razor."

Jayne snorted. "Regular Sweeny Todd, huh?"

The librarian chuckled. "You could say that."

"Why'd he do it?" Sam wanted to know.

"Well, let's look," the librarian said, flipping the paper over to read the rest of the article. "Um… people who knew him described Isaiah as having a stern, harsh temperament. He ruled his family with an iron fist… wife, two sons, adopted daughter… ah-hah. There were rumors that the wife was going to take the kids and leave… which you know, in that day…"

Dean nodded to show he understood. "So instead," the librarian went on. "Old man Isaiah, well… he gave them all a shave."

He drew his hand across his throat and chuckled. Dean couldn't help but chuckle back, although his brother looked at him disapprovingly.

"Where were they all buried?" Lynn asked.

The librarian shook his head. "It says the family was cremated."

Dean frowned at his brother, who frowned back. Lynn was biting her lip, an annoyed fire in her brown eyes, and Jayne looked about as happy as she did. "Is there anything else?" Sam spoke up.

"Yes," the librarian said, flipping through the pages of an old book. "I found a picture of the family."

He turned the open book towards the four hunters gathered on the other side of the table. Dean frowned down at the portrait on the page. It was the Isaiah Merchant family all right, the same creepy five people staring out at him, but the picture was all wrong. Instead of looking to his left, the father was staring out at the viewer. The painting within the painting was different. The razor on the table was shut instead of open.

Dean glanced at his brother. "Hey," Sam said. "Could we get a copy of this?"

The librarian shrugged. "Sure."

When he shuffled off to fulfill their request, Dean let out a low whistle and exchanged a frown with his three companions. "So… the painting in the book," he said.

"Looks noticeably different from the painting in real life?" Lynn finished for him. "Yeah, I think we all noticed."

"What do you think that means?" Sam wondered.

Dean shrugged. "Don't know. Maybe whatever's haunting that painting is trying to tell us something."

"Whatever's haunting that painting is probably old man Isaiah," Jayne pointed out. "It _is_ his head that keeps moving. What exactly would he be trying to tell us?"

"Who knows?" Lynn retorted irritably. "Maybe he's trying to explain why he thought it was necessary to murder his entire family. Dick."

Dean frowned at her. She glared back. "What?" she demanded.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Not a thing."

Other than Lynn being an even crazier bitch than usual, that is.

The librarian came back just then with the photocopy in his hand. "Here you go," he said cheerfully. "Anything else I can help you with?"

"No, thanks," Dean replied, taking the copy. "We've got everything we need."

"You've been extremely helpful," Sam added, flashing the man a polite smile.

They said their goodbyes to the old librarian, who enthusiastically waved them out of the library. Then they split into two groups and took their cars back to the motel.

Sam sat silently in the passenger seat the whole way back, his forehead wrinkled in concentration as he studied the photocopy in his hands. The drive to the motel was short and quiet, without a word from Sam.

When they reached the motel, all four hunters gathered in Dean and Sam's room. Sam threw off his jacket and flopped down at the small table under the window, photocopy in hand. "I'm telling you," he was saying now. "Painting at the auction house? Dad's looking down. Painting here? Dad's looking out. The painting has changed."

Dean sighed, shrugging out of his jacket and dropping onto the edge of his bed. Lynn sat across the table from Sam, without removing her coat, and frowned at the photocopy. "So you think Daddy Dearest is trapped in the painting?" Dean asked. "Handing out Columbian neckties like he did with his family?"

"Makes sense," Jayne drawled from where she was standing by the partition. She'd left her coat on too, and had her arms folded across her chest. "More sense than any other theory I can think of. Question is how do we stop him if he's been cremated?"

Lynn shrugged, still hunched over the table. "Maybe there are bits of him left," she murmured. "Lock of hair, prized possession…"

Sam sighed, rubbing his face in exasperation. "How the hell are we going to find those?" he asked.

"Don't look at me," Lynn retorted. She was obviously pissed, but Sam didn't seem to notice. Dean shook his head at his brother's obliviousness, wondering how the hell Sam was missing the signals.

"Look," he spoke up, hoping to offer a solution that would stop all the sniping. "If the dad's position in the painting has changed, maybe other things in the painting have changed too. That could give us some clues."

Sam frowned skeptically. "Like a _Da Vinci Code_ kind of deal?"

Dean blinked at that. "Uh…" he stuttered. "I don't know… still waiting for the movie on that one… Anyway, we got get back in to see that painting."

"Another B&E?" Jayne asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nah. It'll be easier if _Sarah_ just lets us in. You can swing that for us, huh Sam?"

He smirked at his brother. Sam shook his head, sighing in exasperation. "Dude, enough," he snapped. "Ever since we got here, you've been trying to pimp me out to Sarah! Just back off, all right?"

Lynn looked up from the table at Sam's little outburst, her eyes darting between him and Dean, looking way too interested in the conversation. Dean decided to press; he was sick of Sam being a wimp about this whole dating thing, and he wanted to make Lynn squirm. Maybe then the two of them would stop being so stupid. At the very least, if he pissed Lynn off enough, she'd stop complaining about Sam and Sarah to _him_, and go bother Jayne instead.

"Well, you like her, don't you?"

Sam bristled at his question. He shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Well, you like her, she likes you; you're both consenting adults…"

"What's the point, Dean? We'll just leave! We always leave!"

"I'm not talking about marriage, Sam…"

"You know, I don't get it!" Sam exclaimed. "What do you care if I hook up with Sarah or not?"

"All right, everybody calm the fuck down," Jayne interrupted.

Dean turned to her in astonishment. Sam gaped at her too, and Lynn's eyes immediately dropped back to the table. Jayne gave them a wide-eyed, exasperated grimace, stepping out of the shadow of the room partition. "I don't need to hear anymore crap about who's screwing who, or who's pushing too hard, or who's pissed about the whole thing, all right?" she growled. "Sam, I don't give a shit if you want to hook up with Sarah or never talk to her again – we need to look at that painting, and if you can make that happen? Make it fucking happen."

Sam huffed in outrage, but Jayne cut him off, turning on Dean. "And you," she snapped.

"What do you mean, and me?" Dean retorted.

"You know damn well what you're doing," she returned, glowering at him. "Knock it off, because you're making everything more difficult than it needs to be. Let Sam deal with Sarah the way he wants to, and stop bringing it up every five minutes!"

He gawked at her for a moment, unconsciously shaking his head. He almost wanted to ask her what the hell her problem was, but that wouldn't get them anywhere. Besides, he already knew what her problem was. It was his problem too. The two of them really needed to talk things out, he decided, before things got any weirder and someone did something they'd regret.

But not there, and not now. That was a conversation they'd have to have in private.

Lynn sighed suddenly, breaking the tense, uncomfortable silence that had followed Jayne's scolding. "Sam?" she asked in a pathetic voice. "Could you just call Sarah and tell her we want to look at the painting?"

He looked at her in surprise, and then swallowed so hard Dean could see his Adam's apple bob. "All right," he murmured. "If that's what you want."

Lynn shrugged. "I want to see the painting," she replied, which didn't really answer the question that Sam hadn't really asked.

Dean nearly groaned, rubbing his aching head. Jayne looked annoyed at them too, but she refrained from yelling at everyone again.

Sam picked up his phone and dialed Sarah's number. Dean rolled his eyes, scooting backwards on the mattress and leaning back against the headboard. "Sarah, hey," Sam said into the phone once she answered. "It's Sam." He laughed slightly, responding to whatever she'd said. "Yeah, hi, good, really good… what about you? Good, good, really good…"

"Smooth," Dean offered from the bed.

Sam glared at him. "So… uh, listen… me and my brother and our partners, we were thinking that we'd like to come in again and look at that painting? We might be interested in buying it after all."

There was a brief pause. Then Sam jumped to his feet, his eyes wide with panic. "What?" he demanded into the phone.

Dean was instantly on high alert, and pushed himself off the bed. Lynn frowned too, getting slowly to her feet. "Who'd you sell it to?" Sam asked.

Jayne took a step forward, and Dean caught her eye, the two of them exchanging a worried look. "Sarah, I need an address right now," Sam said.

The serious tone in his voice, and the insinuation that whoever had bought the painting was in trouble had Sarah spilling her guts quick. Dean watched as Sam jotted down the information, said a hasty goodbye to Sarah, and hung up the phone. He waved the address at the other three hunters. "Let's go," he said, grabbing his coat.

Dean snatched his jacket too and followed his brother out the door, Jayne and Lynn on his heels. All four of them automatically went to the Impala and clambered in, the slam of their doors echoing throughout the parking lot. Dean sighed, turning the key in the ignition, and then wheeled recklessly out of the motel parking lot.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Sam sighed, running his hand roughly through his hair as Dean navigated the streets. They'd spent most of the day in the library, and now that they were headed for the house of the Blakes' client, Evelyn, it was pitch dark out.

Dean made good time, and was soon wheeling the Impala into the wealthy woman's driveway. The windows of the stately mansion were glowing with lamplight. Unfortunately, much to Sam's irritation, there was an SUV with its lights still on parked in the drive ahead of them.

Sam was the first out of the car, but three door slams echoing behind him made it clear that Dean, Lynn and Jayne were close on his heels. A dark haired woman in a tan trench coat stepped out from behind the SUV. It was Sarah, and she looked anxious.

"Sam, what's happening?" she demanded as the four hunters headed up the drive.

He shook his head at her, tightening his jaw. "I told you, you shouldn't have come."

She gawked at him as he pushed past her, racing up the front steps just behind his brother. Sam didn't have it in him to offer her reassuring words, or even really look at her. She wasn't supposed to be here. This would screw everything up.

Lynn appeared at his side as he banged on the door. Dean was banging too, hollering at whoever might be in the house. "Hello?" Dean bellowed. "Anybody home?"

Jayne came thundering up the steps next, taking a sharp left when she hit the porch and heading straight for one of the barred windows. Sam followed her lead and moved to the window next to the door, yanking on the fragile metal bars. "You said Evelyn might be in danger," Sarah spoke suddenly, coming up behind him. Sam glanced at her, distracted. "What kind of danger?"

"I can't knock this sucker down," Dean announced, pulling his lock-picking kit from his jacket. "I got to pick it."

Sarah looked at Dean in horror. Sam tore his eyes away from her face, hating the look he saw in her dark hazel eyes. This was why he didn't want to get involved with her. Every time he or his brother dragged a girl into the mess that was their lives, they'd get that look in their eyes. He hated that look; it made him feel like a freak. It was half the reason he'd never told Jessica about his past life… the other half was the fact that he'd never intended to go back to it.

He'd only ever known two women who hadn't given him that look: Lynn and Jayne.

"What are you guys?" Sarah asked, her voice high-pitched. "Burglars?"

Sam brushed past her to the window Jayne had been messing with. Sarah followed him. "I wish it was that simple," Sam told her. "Jayne, you having any luck with the window?"

The blonde shook her head. "Front door's still the best bet. Seriously, what's this lady got in her house, convicted felons?"

Sam rolled his eyes and headed back to Dean, who was still picking the lock. Sarah followed. "Sam, what…?"

He turned around to address the confused young woman, but Lynn beat him to it. She stepped confrontationally in between him and Sarah, stopping the art dealer in her tracks. "I think you better go wait in your car," she said in a low deadly tone.

Sam blinked at the way Lynn addressed the other woman. Sarah swallowed, taken aback by Lynn's territorial glower. He felt like he should be angry with the other hunter, or at least uncomfortable, what with the mean little glare she was giving Sarah, but all he really thought about was the fact that she was right. Sarah should go wait in her car.

"She's right," he said out loud. "Sarah, it's for your own good."

Of course she didn't listen. Dean got the door unlocked and they all stomped into the house, Sarah hot on their heels. "The hell I will!" she called after the four hunters. "Evelyn's a friend!"

They headed into the entrance hall. "Evelyn!" Sarah called. "Evelyn!"

Sam swallowed when he reached the doorway to the sitting room off the foyer. He could see an elderly woman sitting in an armchair, a book in her lap, staring straight ahead. Her eyes were wide open, and her expression was blank.

"Evelyn?" Sarah asked, making her way into the room.

Sam caught Lynn's eyes, and she shook her head. Right away, he could tell she suspected what he did; Evelyn wasn't responding to their inquiries and that could mean only one thing. She was already gone.

Dean jerked his head at the painting. Sam looked from him and Jayne to the picture hanging above the mantel. The old man was staring down at his daughter, just like before. Sarah paid no mind to anything but her friend. She moved closer, reaching out her hand. "Evelyn, are you all right?" she asked.

"Sarah!" Sam exclaimed. "Sarah, don't!"

It was too late. Sarah took the elderly woman by the shoulder and gave her a shake. Eleanor's head fell backwards, revealing her bloody stump of a neck. Sarah shrieked, stumbling backwards into Sam's open arms.

He looked up at the painting again, just in time to see Isaiah Merchant move his head.

* * *

Lynn grimaced and bent over her laptop, rubbing her face with her hands. It was bright and just after dawn, gray light streaming in through the curtains in Sam and Dean's room. Dean was sitting to her side, messing around on Sam's computer, and Sam was pacing.

Jayne caught her sister's eye from the chair under the window, where she'd been camped out since they'd arrived back at the motel. No one had gotten any sleep after leaving that old lady's giant house the night before… in fact, they'd hauled Sarah away from the scene, calmed her down and then convinced her to call the cops and cover for them. Then they'd headed back to the motel and waited. Lynn could not understand how this hunt had gone so horribly wrong, but her sister did not seem to share her annoyance and anxiety. Jayne just looked bored.

The worst part about it all was _not_ having a third victim to add to the list; it was _not_ having no idea how to stop the haunted painting… the _worst_ part, Lynn decided, was that they'd somehow managed to get Sarah Black involved in the whole damn thing.

As she sat in front of her computer, trying to find out where the Merchant family had been buried, someone knocked on the door.

Sam yanked the door open and Sarah stalked into the room, looking determined and furious. "Hey," he greeted her. She ignored him. "Are you all right?"

"No, actually," Sarah snapped. "I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's _alone_ and found her like that."

Lynn raised an eyebrow at the other woman's back, and exchanged a look with Sam. "Thank you," Sam told the art dealer.

"Don't thank me," Sarah retorted. "I'm about to call them right back if you don't tell me what the hell is going on. Who's killing these people?"

Lynn grimaced again, stifling a groan. Rubbing her temples, she looked up at Sam, who glanced all around the room, as though asking for help. Jayne just shrugged at him, and Dean gave him a nod.

"What," Sam corrected Sarah.

She screwed up her face incredulously. "_What_?"

"It's not who," he clarified. "It's _what_ is killing these people."

Sarah gawked at him, shaking her head. Lynn really did groan this time, getting to her feet. "You were there," she said unkindly, not really giving a crap about easing the scared woman into her world. "You saw that painting move, right?"

"No," Sarah shook her head, starting to pace. "I was seeing things. It's not possible."

"Yeah, well, welcome to our world," Dean quipped.

"The painting is haunted," Lynn added. "The old guy who's head is moving around? He's haunting it. And he's killing everyone who buys his painting the same way he killed his family… you know, the other freaky people in that portrait? He slit their throats with a straight razor."

Sarah shook her head harder, taking a step back from Lynn. "You people are _nuts_!"

Sam shot a glare in Lynn's direction, and she shrugged unapologetically at him. He took a step towards Sarah. "I know it sounds crazy," he said in a low, soothing voice. "But you were there; you saw him move."

"No, no, no," Sarah disagreed. "You _must_ be joking; tell me you're joking."

Sam just stared at her. She looked around the room, but everyone else offered her the same blank stare. "You're not joking," she whispered. "God, the guys I go out with."

"Think about it," Sam pressed. "The Telescas. Evelyn. They all had the painting. And there have been others before them. Wherever this thing goes, people die. We're just trying to stop it. And that's the truth."

Lynn knew she was being a bitch, but she didn't care. The four of them were used to this kind of stuff, but as far as Sarah Blake was concerned, this was all crazy talk. A small, mean little part of her celebrated triumphantly. If this didn't scare Sarah away, nothing would.

Sarah blinked a pair of watery eyes, and then lifted her chin determinedly. "Well, I guess you better show me," she said.

Lynn blinked. "What?" she exclaimed.

"I'm coming with you," Sarah replied.

"No, you're not," Sam retorted.

"Yeah," Jayne added slowly, getting up from her chair. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Why not?" Sarah shrugged defiantly.

"Look, this stuff can get dangerous," Sam told her seriously. "You should really just go home."

"I'm not going anywhere," she replied. "I said I'm coming and I mean it."

Sam gawked at her, as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sarah stared at Sam, waiting his answer. Lynn turned her eyes on him too, and so did Dean and Jayne. He looked down at the shag carpeting, suddenly abashed. "I don't want you to get hurt," he admitted.

Dean gave a barely audible snort, but Lynn heard it. She glanced at him, and Dean lowered his eyes to the laptop again. Sarah shook her head at Sam. "Look, you guys are probably crazy," she announced.

"Probably," Jayne agreed in a grumbling tone.

Sarah carried on as if Jayne hadn't spoken. "But if you're right about this? My dad and I sold that painting; we might have gotten these people killed." She paused and took a deep breath. Sam stared at her, and Sarah straightened her spine. "Look, I'm not saying I'm not scared, because I am scared as hell, but I'm not going to run and hide either."

And with that, Sarah marched out towards door and flung it open. "So?" she asked the rest of them. "Are we going or what?"

Then she stepped out into the parking lot and let the motel room door fall shut.

"Sam," Dean announced. "Marry that girl."

Sam sighed and shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Idiot," he muttered, storming after Sarah.

Dean shrugged and got to his feet, shutting the laptop. He followed his brother into the parking lot, and Lynn let loose an aggravated hiss, turning on her stepsister. "Seriously?" she demanded. "The civilian is coming?"

Jayne shrugged too. "Sorry. Guess you'll have to suck it up."

Lynn glared at her. "Don't worry," Jayne rolled her eyes. "We'll take the truck. That way you won't be squished into the backseat with Sarah. Happy?"

"No," Lynn retorted.

"Of course you're not," Jayne sighed, headed for the door. "Look, I know you like Sam and you hate Sarah and you're raging with jealousy right now, but can you do me one small favor?"

"What?"

"Sulk in silence?"

Lynn huffed loudly. Jayne smirked at her, and disappeared out the door. For a moment, Lynn stood in the motel room, arms folded, and glared at the spot where her stepsister had been. Then she shook her head and stomped out of the motel room.

"I hate my life," she grumbled.

* * *

Jayne parked her truck outside the cemetery gates, trying to ignore the pounding headache that was forming over her left eye. The day had already been much too long, and it was still morning. After Sarah had arrived at their motel and demanded answers… and then demanded to come along for the hunt… the four hunters had headed out to the house where last night's murder had occurred and taken the haunted painting down from the mantelpiece. They'd examined it, compared it with the photocopy of the original painting, and right away had noticed one major difference. There was a painting within the portrait, and while the photocopy showed it to be a painting of a mountain range, the portrait in Evelyn's house showed a painting of mausoleum.

Which was why they were at this cemetery. It was the first of four that they planned to search. Dean had surmised that the mausoleum – which read _Merchant_ on the front – would be where they'd find Isaiah's remains. True, he'd already been cremated, but it was a start. They had to find _some_ way to get rid of the ghost.

In the truck beside her, Lynn was glowering through the windshield at Dean's Impala, parked just in front of them. Jayne knew exactly why Lynn was glowering at the other car; not only were Dean and Sam in there, but Sarah Blake was riding along in the backseat. That was the real cause of Jayne's headache – not the lack of sleep, not the long day ahead of them, but the tension between Lynn, Sam, and Sarah.

"Can you please play nice?" Jayne asked.

Lynn shrugged, pursing her lips. "I'm being nice."

"You were a total bitch back at the motel," Jayne retorted. "And you ignored her completely at the house. Actually, you know what? That was good. Do that all the time; don't speak, just ignore Sarah completely."

"Planning on it," Lynn said. Then she hopped down from the cab and headed for the other three people in their group. By now, Sam, Sarah and Dean gotten out of the Impala and gathered inside the cemetery gates.

Sighing heavily, Jayne got out of her truck and headed for the others. This all could have been avoided, she thought bitterly. All Sam and her stepsister had to do was stopping being total idiots.

The five of them set out through the neatly kept cemetery, trekking through the lush green grass. It was a bright day, and the sun was shining down on the stone and marble headstones. In the distance, she could see several mausoleums grouped on top of a hill, under a grove of tall, shady trees. Jayne purposely lagged behind the rest of the group, raising an eyebrow as she watched Lynn slide in between Sam and Sarah, obviously intent on making alone time impossible for the two of them. Sighing, she shook her head and rolled her eyes. Could Lynn be any more transparent?

Dean sidled up next to her, and the two walked side-by-side towards the mausoleums – much to her annoyance. Jayne clenched her fists and tried to walk faster, but he caught up easily.

"Check out the love triangle," he drawled after several seconds of silence, nodding at the three people ahead of them.

"Not really a love triangle," Jayne shrugged, refusing to look at him. "Sarah and Sam barely know one another, and Lynn's just fucking him out of convenience."

Dean chuckled ironically. "Come off it, Goldilocks, we both know that last one ain't true."

"Whatever," Jayne shrugged again. "It's what she'll say if you ask her about it."

She walked on ahead of him. He followed, keeping her pace easily. Jayne didn't know why she was so irritated with him about the Sam and Sarah thing, but she was. Everyone knew what Sam and Lynn were doing behind closed doors; they weren't even trying to keep it a secret anymore. She knew what both of them said; that it was just sex, it didn't mean anything, and they were free to do whatever they wanted. It wasn't a relationship. Neither of them were ready for that.

That didn't mean it was ok for Dean to toss Sarah Blake into the mix. Some overprotective, sisterly part of her was pissed about the whole thing. Lynn might be annoying when she was feeling jealous and insecure, but Jayne hated the idea of her sister getting hurt.

And her annoyance had nothing to do with anything she might have done with Dean two nights ago.

"You mad at me?" Dean asked suddenly.

Jayne stopped short, turning on him. He froze and stared at her. "Why'd you pull that stunt with your wallet?" she demanded.

Dean shrugged, looking away and scratching the back of his neck. "Just thought Sam could use a little more face time with Sarah, that's all."

"That's all?" she snapped. "Really?"

"Hey, if I hadn't dragged Sam back to the auction house, we'd have never found about the painting," Dean retorted. "I don't know why your panties are in such a twist."

She glowered at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know Lynn and Sam are hitting the sheets," she returned in annoyance. "Yet you're over here throwing the poor kid at this Sarah chick and making everyone uncomfortable. What is your problem?"

"You said it yourself; friends with benefits doesn't work," he pointed out. "What does it matter when they call it quits so long as they're going to do it anyway?"

"You tell me," she replied. "You're the one pushing."

Silence followed the statement. Dean kept his eyes trained steadily on the grass, looking uncomfortable. Jayne glared at him, waiting for him to say something.

Finally, he looked up and squinted at her. "Why are you so pissed about this?" he asked.

Jayne shrugged, suddenly feeling as uncomfortable as Dean had looked. "She's my sister," she said hoarsely. "I don't like it when she gets hurt."

He just stared at her. Jayne swallowed, and tried lightening the mood. "I mean, do you have any idea what's it like listening to Lynn bitch on a good day?" she joked. "Now you've gone and given her a real reason to complain. You're killing me here."

"That's really why you're mad at me?" he asked, pinning her with his eyes. "It's all about Lynn? This has nothing to with… with what happened… between us…?"

"Oh, come on," Jayne retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Hey, it's a legit question, Goldilocks," he shrugged. "Sex can be a game changer. And you can't tell me shit between us hasn't been awkward since then."

"Exactly how would sex change the game?" she snapped. "Look, Dean, you're my friend and I care about you, but that was a onetime thing, and it won't happen again."

He stared at her again. Jayne raised her eyebrow at him. "Unless you think it should…" she suggested.

"Nope," he said too quickly. "Wasn't going to say that. Definitely not."

"Good. Then we're agreed."

She tried to walk away. He jogged after her and cut her off, standing directly in front of her and leaning into her face. "We really need to talk this out, Jayne."

Jayne hated talking things out, and Dean knew it. She was pissed that he'd confront her like this, make her discuss the issue. It was just sex, after all. It wasn't going to happen again. The best thing would be to drop it. Bringing it up all the time wasn't going to help anything.

She glared at him. "Who are you, and what have you done with Dean Winchester?"

He rolled his eyes. "What, are you a character from a 90s sitcom now?" he retorted.

Jayne smirked. "Seriously though," she said. "I'm starting to think you're possessed. We're fine, Dean. Let it go. Things will get back to normal eventually."

Then she pushed past him and walked off after Sam, Lynn, and Sarah. After a few moments of silence, she heard him follow her. He didn't try to catch her this time, and for that she was grateful. She didn't have it in her to talk this out, and Dean didn't either, not really. What would they say? Whoops? No biggie? Let's try not to be weird? It was an unnecessary conversation; they'd covered it all before.

She couldn't even begin to comprehend saying something else. Neither of them believed in friends with benefits, after all, so it wasn't like they were going to start up that sort of arrangement. And anything beyond that simply wasn't her style. It wasn't his either.

They were friends, and they were going to leave it at that. No matter how many times a day she reflected back on that stupid drunken night and the feel of his lips and his hands on her bare skin, it could not happen again.

She wouldn't let it.

* * *

Lynn picked her way around several low laying headstones, frowning in distaste. She could hear crows cawing and flapping their wings in a nearby tree. "This is the third bone yard we've checked," Dean announced from ahead of her. "This ghost is jerking us around."

She was starting to agree with him. This third graveyard wasn't nearly as nice as the first two; a lot of the headstones were in disrepair and the grass needed watering.

"So this is what you guys do for a living?" Sarah asked Sam suddenly. She was trying to be flippant, but Lynn could hear how tired she was in her voice.

"Not exactly," Sam returned. "We don't get paid."

"Well, mazel tav."

The two of them exchanged a smile. Lynn rolled her eyes at their backs. Their constant flirting was really starting to grate on her nerves. She glanced behind her at Jayne, making a face, but the effect was wasted as her stepsister wasn't looking at her.

Dean stopped short, eyeing a mausoleum up ahead of them. "Over there," he said, heading for the small stone crypt.

Sam and Sarah followed on his heels, and Lynn followed them, her stepsister two steps behind her. Sighing, Lynn read the name Merchant above the mausoleum doors, and then lowered her eyes to the dirt path. She was annoyed. Three cemeteries worth of walking, coupled with Sam and Sarah and their stupid awkward flirting was enough to make her lose her shit and start firing shots at random.

Dean whipped out a pair of bolt cutters as they approached the mausoleum doors. As the rest of them watched, he cut through the chains wrapped around the doors and let them fall to the cement block at their feet. The doors swung open, revealing massive cobwebs hanging from the ceiling. Dean knocked them down and then stepped inside. Sam and Sarah followed, and Lynn and Jayne were the last to enter.

Immediately, Dean went to the six plaques on the left wall and began reading the names. Lynn checked out the small, stained glass window at the top of the far wall, letting a small amount of light into the crypt, and then headed for the right side of the crypt. There were glass cases built into the wall with carefully preserved toys inside, and an urn stationed beside each case.

Sam followed her, and the two of them began reading the names under the urns. Jayne joined Dean on his side of the crypt, and Sarah stood in the center, lost for a moment, before stepping up beside Sam and frowning into the last glass case.

"Ok, that is the creepiest thing I've ever seen," the art dealer announced, squinting at the antique doll sitting inside the case.

"Well, it was sort of a tradition at the time," Sam replied. "When a child died, their favorite toy was preserved in a glass case and kept by the headstone or crypt."

Sarah made a face, and Sam laughed. Lynn glared at the wall in front of her face, determinedly not looking at either of them. They could both go to hell.

"You notice anything strange here?" Dean asked suddenly.

"Uh… where do I start?" Sarah quipped.

Sam laughed again, and Lynn sneered. Stupid art dealer and her great sense of humor…

"No, that's not what I mean," Dean replied, equally unimpressed by the joke. "Look at the urns."

Lynn did as commanded. "Huh," she frowned. "There's only four."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Mom and the three kids. Daddy Dearest isn't here."

"Great," Jayne drawled, leaning against the plaques. Lynn made a face. "So where the hell is he?"

Sam shrugged. "That's a good question."

"How do we find him?" Sarah asked uncertainly.

"County records office," Dean said shortly. "Let's get out of here."

They followed him out of the crypt. Sarah fell into step beside Sam, and the two of them started talking in hushed tones, laughing a little every now and then.

Lynn glared at their backs as they crossed the graveyard, back towards their cars. Jayne caught up to her and smirked. "Bad day?" she asked.

"Bite me," Lynn snapped.

"You're so jealous, it's practically a sin."

"Are you deaf?" Lynn retorted. "Did I not say bite me?"

Jayne chuckled. Lynn glared at her out of the corner of her eye. "Sure, go ahead and laugh," she growled. "I'm glad you find my drama so funny. Hey, what's the deal with you and Dean?"

Instantly, Jayne's smirk was gone, and Lynn smirked instead, pleased by her victory. "I don't know what you're talking about," Jayne replied.

"Oh, yes you do," Lynn returned. "The two of you have been acting weird since we started working this case. You refuse to be alone together, you barely speak, you never make eye contact, and yet you're always staring at each other, whenever the other one isn't looking. It's weird."

"We're not doing that," Jayne shrugged. "You must be imagining things."

"And did I imagine you two arguing in that first graveyard we checked out?"

"Yep," Jayne said without skipping a beat.

"Whatever," Lynn sighed. "But just so you know; I'm on to you."

If she wasn't mistaken, she saw panic in her stepsister's eyes. "On to what?" Jayne demanded.

"Unresolved sexual tension," Lynn smirked. "So what happened? Did you two kiss or something?"

For some reason, Jayne laughed loudly. Lynn frowned, confused by her response. "What?" she asked. "Why are you laughing?"

Jayne just kept on chuckling, shaking her head. "What?" Lynn repeated.

By now they'd reached the cemetery gates, and Jayne fished her keys out of her jeans. "Nothing," she replied, still grinning in amusement. She hustled over to the driver's side of her truck and clambered up into the cab.

Lynn climbed into the truck beside her, frowning. Her payback moment for all the grief Jayne had given her about Sam was not going as planned. "How can you be laughing right now?" she wanted to know. "Something happened; I know I'm right about that."

"Sometimes," Jayne told her, starting the engine. "You really crack me up."

She shifted into drive and pulled away from the gates, passing the Impala. Lynn heard the rumble of the engine as Dean started up his car and put it in gear, following along behind them. She glanced back at the other car, and then turned to face the windshield, leaning back in her seat with a petulant pout on her lips.

Everyone was really pissing her off.

* * *

Sam climbed out of the Impala and looked over the roof of the car as Dean did the same, his head popping up from behind the vehicle. They were parked at the side of the road, in front of a massive brick building with large modern windows. The street was busy, and cars kept flying past them.

Jayne had already parked her truck just in front of them, and now she and Lynn were making their way over to the Impala. "Goldilocks and I can go inside," Dean suggested. "Too many people and they'll get suspicious. You can stay out here… flirt with Sarah a little…"

"Dean," Sam hissed. "Shut up."

Sarah chose that moment to open the back door and step out of the car. "So what's the plan?" she asked brightly.

"Hey," Dean said, ignoring Sarah's question and directing his attention at the two women approaching the car. "Which one of you wants to come inside with me?"

Jayne looked at Lynn. Lynn shook her head. "You can go," she told her stepsister with a too sweet smile. Sam knew that smile; Lynn was up to something devious.

Sighing, Jayne shrugged and shoved her hands into her pockets. "Whatever," she muttered.

Dean headed for the county records office, Jayne lagging behind him, and Sam found himself caught between Sarah, who was still standing by the back of the Impala with a smile on her face, and Lynn, who was at the front of the car, her arms folded across her chest.

Suddenly, Sam was very uncomfortable.

"I think I'm going to sit down on that little wall, in front of the building," Sarah announced. "Anyone coming?"

"Sure," Sam smiled.

Sarah smiled back and headed for the wall in question. Sam didn't follow her right away, chancing a look over his shoulder at Lynn. "Hey, are you ok?" he asked.

He knew she wasn't. Something wasn't sitting right with her. She'd been moody and bitchy and downright mean the entire hunt. Usually, she'd have tried to empathize with Sarah, help her adjust to learning about the things that lived in the dark. But not this time; this time, there had been no sympathy, only impatience.

"Fine," she replied, smiling too brightly.

He looked in Sarah's direction, seeing her several feet away, sitting on the low cement wall. "You really like her, huh?" Lynn asked.

Sam whipped his head around to stare guiltily at Lynn. "No, not… not _really_," he protested. "I mean… I barely know her."

"Well, you don't have to know her to see that she's pretty," Lynn retorted. "I mean, you do have eyes, Sam."

He shrugged. "Pretty isn't everything."

Sarah _was_ pretty though, and there was no denying it. She was also friendly, and funny, and down to earth, and surprisingly adaptable. He couldn't help liking her.

He also couldn't help suspecting that Lynn's problem with this particular hunt had everything to do with him liking Sarah. It was an arrogant, egotistical conclusion to draw, but he couldn't help thinking it. She'd been so weird, and it had all started when they'd met Sarah.

"No," Lynn sighed. "It's not. But she's not just pretty, is she? You like her for other reasons."

Sam shrugged again. "Well… she's great, but… it's not like anything's going to happen."

"Why not?"

He blinked at her, surprised. She was studying him, hard, and it gave him the shivers. "I don't know," he murmured lamely. "We're just going to leave."

"Oh," Lynn replied, nodding slowly. There was an edge to her voice that made Sam flinch. "So if we weren't going to leave… or if she were to somehow have to come with us… would that change your decision about nothing happening?"

"Lynn, if you have a problem with me seeing other people, I really wish you'd just come out and say it," he said bluntly.

"I don't have a problem!" she exclaimed, far too quickly in Sam's opinion. "We're not doing anything… I mean, we are, but… our arrangement is very clear on us _just_ being friends. You can see whoever you want. It's not like you have to explain anything to me. You're a free man, Sam Winchester."

If he was a free man, then why the hell did she sound so snotty? Sam sighed, shaking his head. "Look, I know we're free to see other people, but I don't want to shove it in your face when I do. So, if this is bothering you…"

"Nothing is bothering me," she cut him off. Her tone bespoke finality.

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair. "Lynn…"

"I'm not upset," she insisted. "You can do whatever you want with Sarah. Go right ahead and don't worry about me."

"It's ok if it bothers you. She's not exactly being subtle… but that's not her fault, either. I mean, I never mentioned you and I…"

"Stop, Sam," she ordered. "I'm not bothered. We're not exclusive. Neither of us is ready for something like that."

"I know," he agreed. "I'm not ready."

"And even if you were ready, I wouldn't necessarily be the one you wanted to give it a go with, so…"

Sam's mouth moved, but no sound came out. He gawked at her helplessly.

"Don't worry about it," she smirked, her tone falsely chipper. Sam opened his mouth to argue some more, but she brushed past him and headed over to sit with Sarah.

Sam followed her, his forehead crumpled and tension pounding at a spot over his eyebrow. He didn't know what to do, or even what to say. Lynn was upset, and he didn't like it… but he also didn't have the tools to reassure her. Everything she said was right; they weren't in a relationship, he wasn't ready to be in a relationship, he did like Sarah, and when he closed his eyes and thought of his future, he didn't see Lynn in it. He saw a dead demon, and then he saw law school, an apartment in Palo Alto, and a life devoid of darkness and killing. Lynn would never leave the darkness behind.

Ergo, no future.

Lynn and Sarah were sitting in silence, and when Sam joined them, Sarah looked a little too relieved by his presence. The three of them sat there for several minutes, waiting on Jayne and Dean. Sarah talked to him, but Lynn refused to speak. After a while, Sam found himself laughing and flirting with Sarah again. Then he saw an eyelash on Sarah's face. After watching her swipe at her face and miss the eyelash a few times, both of them laughing, Sam reached out to grab the eyelash for her.

Lynn got up, excusing herself very politely (to his great surprise) and walked several feet away, positioning herself by an urban planter near the front doors of the records office. As Sam watched her, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lit up.

He sighed, shaking his head in annoyance. Of course she was smoking again.

"Sam, can I ask you something?"

He looked up at Sarah's question. "Sure," he smiled.

She smiled shyly back, nervously kicking her leg. "I don't mean to be forward, but a girl could wait here forever." She laughed nervously, and he laughed back, feeling just as nervous as she was. Sarah looked down at her lap, and then back up, her face more serious than before. "Is there something here between us, or am I delusional?"

He would have frozen up, but he'd seen the question coming. Hedging a little, he forced out the words, "You're not delusional."

At his pause, a knowing look spread across Sarah's face. "But there's a 'but' coming," she murmured.

He nodded good-naturedly. "_But_… I don't think this would be a good idea."

Sarah nodded too, lowering her eyes to the pavement. "Because of the ghost buster girl, right?"

Sam frowned incredulously. "What?"

She nodded in Lynn's direction. "Lynn. The one who doesn't like me. You two are together, aren't you?"

Maybe the easiest solution would be to say yes, Sam thought to himself, but he didn't want to lie to Sarah. "Not exactly," he muttered.

She laughed out loud. "Let me guess… it's complicated?"

Sam crinkled his nose, looking sheepishly to his sneakers. "Took the words right out of my mouth."

"So I'm right, then," Sarah replied. "You two… you're together."

He shook his head. "No… not really. It's not like that, exactly. She's not the reason this is a bad idea."

"Then what is?"

Sam took a deep breath. "I like you."

When he didn't go on, Sarah blinked, chuckling a little. "Wait, you lost me."

He chuckled too, but then he sobered. Suddenly, he couldn't look her in the eye. "Look, it's hard to explain," he told her. "But… when people are around me… I don't know, they get hurt."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, like physically hurt," he retorted. "With what my brother and I do, it's…"

He trailed off. What he wanted to do was tell her about Jessica, but the words were catching in his throat. Sarah sat patiently, studying the side of his face. He took a deep breath. "Sarah," he said finally. "I had a girlfriend… and she died… and my mom died too. I don't know… it's like I'm cursed or something, like death just follows me around."

Sarah ducked her head. "Look, I'm not scared of much," he rushed to say, before she could cut in. "But if I let myself have feelings for anybody…"

"You're scared they'd get hurt too," Sarah finished.

He stared at her. She stared back. Finally, he nodded, and tore his eyes away, focusing them on the sidewalk beneath his feet. "That's very sweet," Sarah said. "And very archaic."

Sam jerked his head up immediately, startled. "Sorry?"

"Look, I'm a big girl, Sam. It's not your job to make decisions for me. There's always a chance of getting hurt."

"I'm not talking about a broken heart and tub of Haagen-Daaz," he argued. "I'm talking about life and death."

"And tomorrow I could get run over by a bus," Sarah retorted. "That's what life is."

Sam looked at his feet again. "Look, I know losing somebody you love is terrible," Sarah went on. "You shut yourself off… believe me, I know. But when you shut out pain, you shut out everything else, too."

"Sarah, you don't understand," he insisted. "The pain that I went through… I can't go through it again. I _can't_."

"And your friend?" Sarah pushed. "Lynn? Did you tell her the same thing? Is that why it's complicated?"

The question shut him down completely. Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head. "That's different. We're not talking about Lynn."

"Aren't we?" Sarah replied. "You don't want to try anything with me because I could get hurt. Right?"

Sam sighed heavily, staring at the sky.

"And with Lynn, it's complicated. Because you don't want her to get hurt either?"

"Lynn's a hunter," Sam retorted. "She lives this life all the time, with or without me."

Sarah gave him a hard look. "So… you don't care if she gets hurt."

"Of course I care!" he snapped.

Sarah stared at him, her face open, waiting for him to explain himself. He stared back, silent, because he didn't know how.

"Are we interrupting something?"

Sam jumped at the sound of his brother's voice, and turned to find Dean and Jayne standing behind him. Dean smirked and waved, and Sam contemplated killing him then and there. "No," he replied.

"Nothing," Sarah agreed.

"Huh," Dean retorted sarcastically. "Apparently."

Jayne merely rolled her eyes and then waved impatiently at her stepsister. Lynn jogged on over, stubbing out her cigarette. "Hey," she greeted the other four as she approached. "What did you find?"

"Are you smoking again?" Jayne demanded, ignoring the question. "Do I have to hit you repeatedly?"

Lynn glared. "Bite me. Did you find anything or not?"

"Pay dirt," Dean grinned triumphantly, waving a rolled up document at her head. Lynn frowned, swatting it away. "Apparently the surviving members of the Merchant family were so ashamed of Isaiah that they didn't want him interred with the rest of the family, so they handed him over to the county. County gave him a pauper's burial, economy style. Turns out he wasn't cremated, he was buried in a pine box."

Sam nodded, a small grin gracing his face. "So there are bones to burn."

"There are bones to burn."

"Tell me you know where."

"We know where," Jayne replied. "We'll head out after dark."

"Can we drop you off somewhere?" Dean asked Sarah.

Sarah frowned, straightening her back. "I'm not going anywhere. I told you, I'm seeing this through to the end. I have to make sure it's over, or I'm not going to be able to live with myself."

Jayne snorted. "Uh, no offense, but… I don't think you want to tag along on this one. We're going to dig up a grave… desecrate remains… seriously, if I had the option to stay home…"

"Which you don't," Lynn interrupted.

"Obviously," Jayne grumbled. "But if I did… seriously, just go home. Trust me on this one."

"I'm not leaving," Sarah insisted. "Not yet."

Sam had to admire her determination. "All right," he murmured, smiling at her. "If you insist… but don't say we didn't warn you."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Sarah smirked. "You've obviously warned me more than enough."

"All right then," Dean spoke up. "Let's get out of here."

Jayne and Lynn nodded goodbyes at them and then headed for their truck. Sighing, Sam got to his feet and followed his brother back to the Impala, Sarah walking at his side.

They didn't revisit their earlier conversation – couldn't revisit it, not with Dean hanging around. Still, it was all Sam thought about as he sat in the passenger seat of his brother's car, drumming his fingers on the side of the door as they drove back to the motel.

* * *

Jayne yawned, wheeling her car down the dark street, the taillights of Dean's Impala glowing in front of her bumper. Her stepsister sat beside her, her head tilted back against the seat and her eyes shut, looking every bit as tired as Jayne felt. Still, they followed the Impala towards the mansion where Sarah Blake's client, Evelyn, had been murdered, feeling tired and sweaty and dirty. She just wanted the night to end so she could take a shower and catch a few hours sleep.

They'd already found Isaiah Merchant's body in the cemetery by the records office, buried in the back, under a simple headstone that bore nothing but his name and his dates. With four of them to do the digging (and Sarah to hold the light) they dug up Isaiah's bones quickly, and wasted no time salting and burning them.

The haunting should be over now, but Dean had insisted they return to Evelyn's house to retrieve the painting. The plan was to burn and bury that ugly ass insult to the art world, just so they could be sure that nothing would ever pop out of the painting and kill someone ever again.

Dean wheeled his Impala up Evelyn's circular driveway, and Jayne followed. Now that night had fallen, the whole yard was dark and spooky with the moon casting tree-shaped shadows across the front of the house. Jayne shut her truck down, parked just behind Dean, and watched as Sam and Sarah clambered out of the car and headed for the house. Dean let his car idle, not bothering to get out.

Jayne hopped down from the cab of her truck, and headed for the house. Lynn followed moments later, jogging past her and chasing after Sam and Sarah. All three of them disappeared inside the house, leaving the front door wide open. Jayne rolled her eyes. Her stepsister was being such an idiot lately.

"Goldilocks!" Dean called from his car, before she could head inside after the other three. "Wait a minute!"

She glared at the car. Dean waved at her, and she approached the open driver's side window. "Get your sister out of there," he hissed.

Jayne frowned at him. "Why the hell would I do that?"

He scoffed. "Why the hell do I think I'm still in the car?"

She sneered in return. "Playing cupid again, Winchester?"

"Maybe," he smirked. "Why? Pissed at me again?"

"I'm always pissed at you," she informed him, although the grin tugging at her lips probably said otherwise.

"Yeah right," he replied, his smirk growing. "You love me. Admit it; you can't help yourself. I'm adorable."

"Adorable like a puppy that keeps peeing in the house."

"You are seriously mean, do you know that?"

A cold gust of wind blew across the yard, scattering dead leaves and kicking her hair up in her face. Jayne grimaced, tucking her hair behind her ears. She knew she should have put it up.

Dean was still smirking at her, and she kind of wanted to hit him. As she glared at him, the wind still blowing her hair around, a cold, eerie cackle sounded from behind her.

Jayne whirled around at the odd, echoing laugher. Dean's car door creaked open and he climbed out of the vehicle, coming to stand at her side. The cackle grew louder and Jayne shivered. It sounded like a little girl.

That was when the front door slammed shut.

* * *

Inside the house, Lynn followed Sam and Sarah into the main room. They were talking ahead of her, and she knew she was being a third wheel, but she didn't care. No matter what she said to Sam, she was jealous of the attention he was showing Sarah… and the small, mean part of her that refused to shut up was demanding she stop them from being alone together.

The three of them crossed the threshold of the main room, and immediately the two lovebirds fell silent. Lynn squinted into the dark room, trying to see why. There, over the mantel, she could see the Merchant family portrait… but it was different than it had been before. Something was missing.

"Sam, you're the expert on this ghost stuff," Sarah murmured, a note of panic edging into her voice. "Is the painting supposed to look like that?"

Lynn snorted, shaking her head, but no one paid her any mind. "Where's the little girl?" Sarah asked.

Sam swallowed. "And the razor," he added, staring at the portrait.

Lynn sighed, her eyes still on the dark spot in the painting where the little girl should have been. As the three of them stared at the portrait, the wind picked up outside. The hairs on Lynn's arms stood on end.

"Ok," she announced. Her breath caught in her throat. "I think we should definitely leave now."

Sarah nodded. "You don't have to tell me twice."

That's when they heard it: the eerie, echoing cackle of a little girl. Lynn swallowed, turning towards the exit.

The front door slammed.

For a moment, the three of them stood stupidly in the sitting room, staring at the dark hallway that led to the door. Lynn swallowed, and took a tentative step forward.

Sam shoved his way past her, running ahead of both her and Sarah. He made a beeline for the front door. "Dean!" he bellowed. "Dean! Are you out there?"

Lynn followed him into the entryway, Sarah on her heels. Very faintly, she could hear Dean's voice on the other side of the thick, heavy front door. "Sam? Are you all right?"

"Lynn!" she heard her stepsister call from the front porch.

"Jaynie!" Lynn called back.

She could hear scratching at the doorknob. Either Dean or Jayne was trying to pick the lock, but it didn't sound like they were getting very far. Swallowing hard, she began to pace. Sarah stood behind her, looking lost, but Sam proved smarter than all of them. He wrestled his cell phone out of his coat pocket and called Dean. Lynn sighed in relief when Dean picked up instantly.

"Tell me you slammed the front door," Dean's voice came through on speakerphone.

"No," Sam told him breathlessly. "No, I think it was the little girl."

"Little girl? What little girl?"

"Yeah, she came out of the painting. I think it might have been her all along."

"Wasn't the Dad looking down at her?" Dean asked. "Maybe he was trying to warn us."

"Hey, hey, hey, let's recap later, all right?" Sam retorted, and Lynn could hear panic in his voice. Nice to know he was as scared as she was. "Just get us the hell out of here."

"We're trying. I got Goldilocks picking the lock right now, but the door won't budge."

"Well, then break it down!"

"Ok, genius! Let me grab my battering ram!"

"Dean, the damn thing is coming!"

"Well, you're going to have to hold it off until I figure something out. Grab some salt or iron!"

Lynn shook her head, trying to focus. She shouldn't have needed Dean to tell her what to do, but in the moment she seemed to have forgotten all her hunter's training. After all, there was a homicidal ghost on the loose, and she was trapped in this stupid, giant house with it.

"I'll check the kitchen for salt," she announced, talking to Sam. "You take Sarah to find some iron."

Sam nodded, grabbing Sarah's arm and disappearing back towards the sitting room. Lynn jogged off to the kitchen to find some salt, her thoughts racing. The ghost girl was coming, she had a razor… salt, salt, _salt_… she needed to find _salt._

She stormed the kitchen, pulling open drawers and flinging open cupboards. Carelessly, she knocked whole boxes of cereal and crackers to the floor, rifling through the contents of every cabinet in the kitchen. Nothing. Nada. She rushed into the dining room, leaving a mess of cracker crumbs and open cardboard boxes on the kitchen floor. The bar in the corner of the dining area yielded similar results.

"What the hell?" she exploded, rushing back into the kitchen and examining the cutlery instead of the cabinets. All stainless steel… no iron to be found. "Damn it!"

She ran out of the kitchen and back into the sitting room, where Sam and Sarah were tearing the place apart. "Anything?" Sam demanded.

Lynn shook her head. "Nothing. The woman doesn't have _any _salt in this place!"

"What the hell kind of house doesn't have salt?" Sam shouted, sounding as irritated and panicky as she felt. "Low sodium freaks!"

Sarah flipped a chair over, examining the underside for iron. "Anything here?" Lynn asked. "Did you find any iron?"

The art dealer grimly shook her head. Lynn stomped her foot. "Shit!"

She joined the search for iron, her stomach somersaulting inside of her. They were trapped in a house with a mass-murdering ghost. They had no weapons… no salt… no iron… they were _so_ fucked!

Lynn knocked a stack of papers off a desk in the corner, scattering them on the floor, and examined a letter opener. It was made of silver. "God damn it," she spat.

Was nothing going to go right tonight?

Suddenly, the sliding doors that led into the kitchen slammed shut. Lynn jumped about a foot in the air, and then shook her head, cussing. Guess that answered her question.

She whirled around to look at Sam and Sarah, and caught the hunter's eye. He swallowed, staring at her, and she knew he felt as hopeless as she did. A strong wind was whipping through the room now, blowing papers around them and tossing Lynn's hair into her face. The ghost was coming for them. Lynn blinked, swallowing down her panic, and glanced around the room.

There was a fireplace – a fireplace, with fire pokers! Suddenly, she smiled. "Sam!" she cried, pointing at the mantel. "Sam, the pokers!"

He turned to gawk at her incredulously. "_What?_"

Footsteps sounded in the next room. Lynn's eye darted towards the entrance, pressing herself against the desk by the sliding kitchen doors. The tap of a little girl's ankle boots bounced off the wood flooring, coming closer and closer.

She appeared in the doorway, her skin pale and translucent over her blue veins. Dark purple circles surrounded her cold eyes, and her dark red hair sat on top of her head in a tangled ponytail. The little girl smirked, purposely stepping forward, dragging a porcelain doll behind her.

"Oh, that is so wrong!" Sarah exclaimed.

Sam pushed the art dealer behind him, backing her away from the ghost that was slowly descending on them both. "Sam," Lynn tried again. "The pokers! They're probably iron!"

He glanced her way again, his eyes lighting up hopefully. Then he backed up a bit more, still trying to conceal Sarah behind him, and reached for one of the iron fire pokers. The ghost reached the pair by the mantel, her mouth opening wide and her head twisting unnaturally as she let loose an unearthly howl.

Lynn flinched back against the desk. Sam swung the fire poker, and the ghost vanished in a cloud of wispy black smoke.

He stood there a moment, staring at the space where the ghost had been, and Lynn looked at him, breathing a sigh of relief. He caught her eye and nodded.

"Iron?" Sarah asked.

Sam glanced at her and nodded again. "Yeah."

"Sam!" Dean's voice came through the speakers on Sam's cell phone. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "For now."

"All right, how are we going to waste her?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed, pacing the room. Lynn pushed herself off the desk and headed for the pokers on the hearth. "She was already cremated. There's nothing left to burn."

"Well, then how's she still around?"

Sam shook his head. "There must be something else."

"Sam, wait!" Sarah exclaimed, rushing to his side. Lynn, now standing by the hearth, turned to her in surprise, her hand closing around one of the iron fire pokers. "We used to handle antique dolls at the auction house."

"Well, that's fascinating Sarah, but important right now?" Sam retorted.

Lynn snorted, widening her eyes in disbelief at his snippy comment.

"Well, back then, they used to make the dolls in the kid's image," Sarah replied. "I mean everything… like they would use the kid's real hair."

The only thing more surprising than Sam getting short with Sarah, Lynn decided, was Sarah coming up with a solution. She gawked at her, and then glanced at Sam. "Dean?" he said into the phone.

"On it," Dean replied. Then she heard a click, and the connection was dropped.

Sam grinned at Sarah, who smiled back. Lynn rolled her eyes, and slumped against the fireplace. She would have breathed a sigh of relief, but then the lights flickered and died, sending all three of them into darkness.

Sarah jumped in surprise, and Sam snatched up his own fire poker again, circling the room. Lynn shook her head, her knuckles white as she grasped her weapon.

"Crap," she muttered.

* * *

Outside, Jayne was furiously picking the lock, everything she'd eaten that day threatening to spew back out the same way it entered. Nothing was happening. She should have at least heard a couple clicks by now. As far as she could tell, the door seemed to be unlocked… it just wouldn't open.

Dean was pounding on windows a little further down the porch. She redoubled her efforts, but the door stuck fast.

She felt like panicking, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. Freaking out and screaming and kicking things was not going to get her sister out of that house.

Suddenly, she heard Dean's boots pounding against the planks of the porch as he ran back to her side. She stopped messing with the lock and frowned at him as he hung up his cell phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

"They're all right for now," he told her. "Lynn found some iron, and they chased ghost girl off."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "How the hell do we get rid of her?"

"Sarah said that back around the time the little girl died, toymakers made the dolls in the image of the kids," Dean explained. "They would use the kid's real hair."

Jayne raised her eyebrows, perking up immediately. "Human remains," she breathed. "So we've got something to burn?"

He nodded and grabbed her arm, hauling her down the front steps. "You and me got to get to the mausoleum," he announced, dragging her to his car.

She ran around the front bumper of the Impala as he slid behind the wheel and started the engine. No sooner had she shut the passenger door behind her, Dean slammed his foot down on the gas and tore out of the driveway. The force of the takeoff pressed her back against her seat, and she gripped the side of the door for support.

They weren't speaking as he whipped the car through the dark streets, about forty mph over the speed limit. The engine was roaring, and the houses and other cars flew by in a murky blur. She didn't complain, not even when he took the corners too fast and sent her colliding with her door or the car console, depending on which way he turned. Soon, they'd reached the cemetery, and Dean took the gate at full speed.

There was a loud _boom_ as the front end of the car hit the gate, the metal grille of the car colliding with the iron in an explosion of sparks. Dean kept gunning the Impala down the pathway that led into the cemetery, not slowing down until they reached the Merchant crypt.

He braked with a jerk, the car coming to a stop mere feet from the mausoleum doors. Jayne nearly flew into the dashboard. He shut down the engine and the two of them leapt from the car, racing for the crypt. Dean cut through the chains once again, and knocked the doors open.

There was a lump in Jayne's throat that she couldn't seem to swallow, and she felt sick to her stomach. Knowing that Lynn and Sam had survived the ghost's first attack did little to assuage her fears. She was operating in panic mode, and she didn't have to hear Dean's thoughts to know he was doing the same.

He rushed to the case containing the doll and began banging on it, trying to pound through the glass. Jayne frowned at him as he gave up on his fists and pulled out his gun, hitting the glass with the butt of his pistol instead. This was the sort of thing that convinced her Dean was panicking, because the solution to getting that doll out of its case was obvious to her.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, pulling her own pistol from her waistband. Dean blinked at her, pausing in his efforts to smash the glass. "Move, you idiot!"

He stepped away from the case and Jayne fired one shot into the glass. A good-sized hole appeared in the center, and Dean gawked, first at the case and then at her.

Jayne shrugged, quirking an eyebrow at him. He sneered and stepped up to the case again, knocking out the rest of the glass with his gun. "I'd have thought of that eventually," he informed her over the sound of glass breaking.

She rolled her eyes at him. Dean cleared away the glass and yanked the doll out of her prison. As Jayne watched, he pulled a lighter from his coat and started flicking it, trying desperately to light the doll's hair. The flame kept flickering and dying.

"Damn it!" he grunted, still flicking the lighter.

"Hurry up!" Jayne hissed at him. "What is wrong with you?"

"Shut up, you're not helping!"

The doll's hair caught fire as he shouted at her, and suddenly its head was ablaze. Dean dropped the doll on the ground, leaping back from the flames. Smoke billowed in the crypt, and Jayne gagged on the stench of burning hair.

Dean backed towards her, both of them getting closer to the door to avoid the smoke. He pulled his phone out of his coat and dialed.

"Sam, you good?" he demanded into the phone.

Jayne watched, awaiting an answer, her breath catching in her throat. Dean hung up the phone a few seconds later and nodded at her reassuringly.

She breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the mausoleum wall. The ghost had been taken care of, everyone was safe, and this stupid hunt was finally over.

It was about damn time.

* * *

Several minutes earlier, back at Evelyn's house, Sam had been panicking too. As soon as the lights died, the unnatural wind from before picked up, whistling its way through the house and blowing papers all around them.

Sam looked over his shoulder at the fireplace. Lynn stood by the hearth with her fire poker clenched in her hand. She caught his eye and he swallowed, holding her gaze for a moment before turning away. His eyes travelled towards the room the ghost girl had come from last time. Sam hefted his poker and advanced, every nerve in his body tingling with alarm.

Sarah stayed where she was, and he could feel her eyes on his back. This wasn't the way he wanted things to go, not at all. The ghost was supposed to be Isaiah, and he was supposed to be gone. Sarah wasn't supposed to be standing in this house, counting on him and Lynn to protect her from a spirit that liked slitting people's throats. She wasn't supposed to end up in danger.

Why did nothing ever go the way it was supposed to?

He tightened his grip on the poker and took another step towards the other room. Suddenly, the heavy wooden desk in the corner flew away from the wall and smashed into him. Sam cried out in pain, dropping the poker, and the desk crushed him against the far wall, toppling over and pinning him there.

"Sam!" Lynn called, rushing to his side. Sarah followed not far behind.

"Oh, my god Sam!" the art dealer exclaimed.

He grunted, trying to push the desk off of him. His legs were pinned, the hard corners of the desk cutting into his skin with the pressure of the furniture's hefty weight. His legs throbbed with pain. Both Lynn and Sarah pulled on the heavy piece of furniture, trying to free him. Suddenly, he heard Sarah scream.

He couldn't see around the desk, but he heard a loud thump, and then Sarah cried out again. Lynn stopped trying to free him from the desk and ran to the other woman's aid. He saw her swing her fire poker at the air behind the desk, and then he heard an anguished, unearthly howl.

Instantly, the wind stopped and the papers fluttered back to the ground. Lynn ran back to his side and started shoving at the desk again. Sam shoved too, both of them pushing and pulling on the massive piece of furniture. Finally, the desk toppled over backwards and Sam's legs were free.

"Are you all right?" Lynn demanded, grabbing him around the face.

Sam nodded, wide eyed. "You?"

"Fine."

"Sarah?"

"Over here," the art dealer spoke up. Sam turned towards her voice, finding her sprawled out on the floor by the wall. She slowly picked herself up off the ground. Sam straightened up and Lynn's hands fell from his face. He got to his feet, wincing with pain as he put pressure on his aching legs. Lynn tried to help him, but he shrugged off her hand and limped to Sarah's side.

The wind picked up again, and the papers began to fly. Sarah gave a startled shriek, her eyes darting from side to side. Sam whirled, looking all around him for his fire poker. Lynn stepped up beside him, still gripping hers.

Suddenly, the other hunter screamed, dropping her fire poker and flying backwards into the far wall with a loud thump. Sam forgot all about finding his fire poker and ran to her side. He heard Sarah coming up behind him, and then Sarah screamed too.

Sam's stomach twisted inside him. He turned around and jumped, his throat closing up. The ghost was behind them, advancing on all three of them with an open, old fashioned razor shining in her hand. Her head was tilting from side to side and her eyes were cold.

Lynn was struggling to her feet behind him and Sam hauled Sarah behind him as well. The fire poker Lynn had dropped was only a few feet to Sam's right, and he decided to go for it. Taking a deep breath, he dove to the side, his hand closing around the poker.

Then he was flying farther, out of control and under the ghost's momentum, sliding across the hard wood floor too fast. He slammed into the opposite wall. The image of the little girl flickered rapidly, and then suddenly she was standing in front of the other two hunters.

Sam struggled up on his feet as Lynn threw herself in front of Sarah. The ghost raised the razor, and he ran towards it, poker swinging.

Suddenly, there was a very human cry of pain, followed by a startling bright flash of fire. The ghost exploded into flames, and then vanished. Glowing embers bounced off the portrait over the mantel, and Sam saw the little girl reappear in the picture.

His poker hit the floor with a clatter and he let himself breathe a sigh of relief. Then he heard Sarah cry out, and turned to help her.

But it wasn't Sarah who needed help. Lynn's arm was bleeding, a long slash cut into her denim jacket sleeve. The dark red blood stained the fabric.

"Oh my god!" he exclaimed, jogging to her side as Lynn shrugged out of the coat. He tore it from her hand and dropped it on the floor, grabbing her arm for a better look. It was a large slash, clean from the little girl's razor, but it wasn't too deep. The blood was ballooning along the surface of the cut, and there was a lot of it due to the angle, but a quick examination proved nothing vital had been slit, and Lynn might not even need stitches.

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry," Sarah kept saying beside him, her eyes welling up with tears.

"Why?" Lynn finally asked, raising her eyebrow. "You didn't push me in front of you. Calm down; it's just a cut. Barely a flesh wound. No biggie."

Sam wrapped the cut with his handkerchief, and gripped Lynn's arm to steady her. "Keep pressure on that," he said. "I'll do better wrapping it in the car."

His phone rang then, and Sam answered it quickly, his focus still on Lynn's cut. "Yeah?"

"Sam?" his brother asked. "You good?"

He had to pause a moment, glancing around them to evaluate the situation. The ghost was gone, the little girl was back in the picture, and neither he nor Sarah had been hurt. It was just Lynn who was bleeding, and Sam suddenly felt sick to his stomach with guilt.

"Not bad," he replied.

Dean hung up on him, and Sam followed suit. Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he took Lynn by her uninjured arm, and gently pushed Sarah towards the door with a hand on her back.

Lynn was holding the handkerchief against her cut, stemming the blood flow. Sam followed Sarah onto the porch, and then led Lynn over to Jayne's truck. He put down the bed door and Lynn took a seat as he hopped in to look for bandages. Sarah followed them, standing awkwardly off to the side.

"I'm sorry," he found himself saying as he dug through the bag in the back of the truck. "You shouldn't have to be…"

"Geez, what are you two, the guilt twins?" Lynn retorted. "Chill, Sam, it's not that bad, and it's hardly your fault."

He didn't say anything after that, although the guilt didn't go away. He dug out the bandages and took a seat beside Lynn, setting about wrapping her arm.

Sarah looked uncomfortable, and Sam didn't blame her. He was all mixed up inside. It didn't seem to matter what he had said when Sarah questioned him about Lynn; he felt guilty every time she got hurt, whether he was directly responsible or not. He knew it wasn't his job to look after Lynn. He knew she was going to be in danger and getting hurt no matter what, but at the same time…

He felt terrible all of a sudden. Flirting with Sarah all day, taking her out on dates… ignoring Lynn, even though the two of them had a long withstanding arrangement. True, it wasn't a committed, exclusive arrangement, but still…

Sam tucked the end of the gauze in, finishing the bandaging on Lynn's arm. "Thanks," she smiled at him.

He nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth too. "Anytime."

Sarah stared at her shoes. Lynn immediately looked away from him, and Sam started chewing on his knuckles. The three of them sat in silence, waiting on Dean and Jayne.

Everything felt like a mess. Sam was officially confused.

* * *

Dean hung up his cell phone the second his brother let him know everyone was fine and passed the message along to Jayne, who looked so anxious about her sister that he suspected she was ready to punch holes in the mausoleum's stone walls. She sighed in relief and slumped against the crypt doors. "Finally," she breathed.

He grunted, nodding. "Yeah. Close call. I can't believe we didn't see it. You know, I'll bet if we look up why the Merchants adopted that little girl, we'll find out her first family was murdered."

Jayne snorted. "Child serial killer. Nice."

"Good thing we had Sarah," Dean went on. "If she hadn't passed us that little fact about the doll…"

"Yeah, good thing," Jayne drawled sarcastically. "Good thing we had Sarah the civilian trapped inside that house with a homicidal ghost. Because Sam and Lynn didn't have enough to worry about in there without trying to protect her too."

He blinked at her in surprise. She was really taking Lynn's jealousy to heart, and it was seriously annoying him. "What is your problem?" he demanded.

Jayne huffed, glaring at him. "I don't have a problem!"

"Do you want me to say sorry?" he snapped. "Is that what you want? Well, fine, I'm sorry I tried to hook my brother up with a pretty girl who he genuinely seemed to like! Never mind the fact that he and your sister aren't together – I'm still sorry!"

"I don't want you to say sorry!" she shouted back. "I don't care! But if I did want you to say sorry, I still wouldn't be happy, because that was the worst apology I've ever heard!"

"Like you're one to talk!"

"Do not make this about me! Goddamn it, you are pissing me off! Do you want Sam and Lynn to crash and burn? Do you want them to break up and be so pissed about it that my sister and I have to leave? Is that what you want? Because if you want us gone…"

It happened so fast he couldn't entirely figure out how it started. One minute he was yelling at her, because she was so fucking irritating, and the next, Dean closed the distance between them and grabbed her face in his hands, smashing his lips into hers.

Her back hit the side of the mausoleum, but he kept pressing against her, pinning her between the wall and his hips. Jayne didn't seem to mind. Her lips were equally insistent against his mouth and her hands were pulling at the lapels of his jacket, dragging him against her chest. His tongue shoved its way into her mouth, his hands moving from her face to dig into her hair. He pushed himself harder against her, feeling her hips grinding against his. Her arms flew around his neck and he grabbed her waist, leaning into her so hard he accidentally shoved her off the mausoleum wall. He felt the scrape of granite against his bare hand as they went down, hitting the ground outside the tomb.

Jayne gasped into his mouth as they hit the grass, jerking back from him. He frowned at her. "You ok?" he asked.

She blinked back. "We're in a graveyard," she pointed out.

He glanced around them and shrugged. "Yeah?"

Her fist caught him in the chest and he winced, but didn't move away. "Get off me," she ordered.

Dean rolled his eyes, but complied with the demand. She leapt up on her feet and brushed off her jeans. He sighed, slowly hauling himself off the ground. Jayne started marching towards his car.

He followed her, his eyes on her ass. He couldn't help it. Before, he'd acknowledged that his best friend had a nice ass, but he'd refrained from staring at it. Now that he'd seen that ass out of her ripped up blue jeans, he couldn't stop looking at it.

Dean was in so much trouble, it wasn't even funny.

She got into the passenger seat and slammed the door. Dean climbed in behind the wheel and sighed, looking at her. Jayne's arms were folded across her chest and she was glaring straight through the windshield.

"So…" he drawled. "Are we not making out anymore?"

She turned the glower on him instead. Dean flinched. "Geez, sorry," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Quit giving me that devil look."

"We made a mistake," she told him flatly. "I was stupid. Sex _always_ complicates things."

He chuckled dryly. "Not if you keep having it."

"We're not doing that. You and I agreed on that point, remember? Friends with benefits doesn't work."

He _had_ agreed with her on that, and he still believed it was true. That was the problem, though. It was obvious to him, and had been for awhile now, that what he had with Jayne went beyond friends. Sex with Jayne went beyond benefits. He'd been plopped down in unchartered territory with this blonde hunter woman, and he had no idea how to navigate. It wasn't that he'd never been in love – he'd loved Cassie the best way he knew how. Besides, that wasn't the point. He wasn't in love with Jayne.

At least, he didn't think he was.

"Let's just go," she said, pulling him out of his head.

Dean didn't turn the key in the ignition. "We need to talk about this."

They really did. He had to fix this somehow. She was his best friend. Before Jayne, he'd been chugging along just fine, only caring about Sam and their father, moving from town to town and hunting ghosts, never making a real connection. It shouldn't be this hard to imagine going back to that, but it was. He hated the thought that she might not be his friend.

Jayne shrugged and looked at the windshield again. At last, she seemed to be relenting. "Talk away."

He gawked at her. "Me?" he exclaimed. Maybe she wasn't relenting after all. "What am I supposed to say?"

"You're the idiot who wants to talk things out!"

Dean groaned, banging his head on the back of the seat. "You're my best friend, Jayne."

The car was silent for a few moments before Jayne spoke up in a tiny voice: "You're mine too."

He nodded. "So… we can't throw that away."

"No one said we were going to."

"But we can't let what happened that night… we can't let it fuck with what we've got."

She nodded slowly, staring at her boots. He could tell she was choosing her words carefully. "No," she murmured slowly. "We can't."

Silence. Dean stared at the steering wheel. Jayne turned and stared at him until he looked up and into her eyes. "We were drunk," she said. He nodded. "Sex happens," she smirked.

Dean chuckled. "Oh, yes it does."

"And that's ok. We'll deal with it. It won't be weird forever. We'll just put it behind us, go back to normal. _And_ we'll never talk about it again."

She sounded so confident that Dean didn't have it in him to dispute her. He nodded with a small smile on his face that he didn't fully mean. Finally, he turned the key in the ignition. "Yeah," he murmured. "Never talk about it again."

He could feel her staring at him, but he kept his eyes trained steadily on the road as he steered the Impala out of the graveyard. He couldn't look at her. For some reason, the idea of never talking about it again left an ache in his chest.

* * *

Lynn yawned, shoving the last of her belongings into her duffel bag and yanking the zipper shut. The sun had risen, the hunt had been wrapped up, and she, her stepsister, and the boys were getting ready to leave town. She was only running on a few hours sleep and a hot shower, but she could easily remedy that with a large coffee at the gas station.

Her stepsister was in the bathroom, gathering the last of her stuff as well. Lynn grabbed her bag and headed out into the parking lot, making a beeline for the truck.

It was reasonably warm out and the sun was shining. A slight breeze ruffled her hair. The Impala's trunk was wide open, she noted as she tossed her duffel into the truck bed. So was the door to the Winchesters' motel room.

Squaring her shoulders, Lynn glanced at the bandages on her arm, and then marched for the door. This had to be done, she decided. There could be no more skirting around the issue.

Dean ducked out of the room with his bag on his shoulder and greeted her with a nod as he passed by. Lynn nodded back and then ducked into the dark motel room. "Sam?" she asked.

He poked his head out the bathroom door. "Hey," he greeted her, surprised. "What do you need?"

"Just wanted to check in before we headed off," she murmured.

Sam nodded. "Well, Dean and I are going to the auction house in a few, just to say goodbye and make sure the painting gets taken care of, so…"

"That's ok," she cut him off. "You and Sarah got pretty close, so it's only natural you'd want to say goodbye."

Sam nodded again. He looked uncomfortably at the floor, and then he stepped out of the bathroom and walked towards her. "Lynn, I know this hunt hasn't left us on the best terms, but I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"You didn't," she interrupted again. Sam raised an uncertain eyebrow. "Well, you _didn't_," she insisted. "Seriously, Sam, it's all right. You didn't hurt my feelings or anything, but…" She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ok, I'll admit it. You were right; Jayne was right. I was jealous."

Sam blinked in surprise – not because of what she'd said, Lynn was sure, but because he hadn't expected her to admit it. "Huh," he said. "Well… I mean, I kind of thought…"

"Just don't talk," she snapped, holding up her hand. "I need to get this off my chest. Look, I was jealous, and I wanted to snap her pretty little neck, and I wanted to hit you over the head, and none of that was fair. I'm sorry. I haven't been fair to you at all."

Sam frowned. "Lynn, I never thought…"

"Still talking," she reminded him. "I haven't been fair to you, and I realize that now. What you and I were doing was stupid. I mean, you're my friend, Sam. Hell, all of us are friends, and more importantly we're allies, and we need to stick together – for now at least. Starting up that stupid friends-with-benefits arrangement was selfish and short-sighted of me. I knew you weren't over Jessica, but I didn't care. I just… I just wanted you, and I was determined that I was going to have you and I realize now what a bad idea that was. It wasn't fair to you, it wasn't fair to the group, and more importantly it wasn't fair to me."

"Lynn, what are you saying?" he asked. She wanted to hear a note of panic in his voice when he asked that question, but she told herself she didn't. That was wishful thinking.

"The longer we keep doing this, the more jealous I'm going to get," she said. "That's the problem with friends-with-benefits; someone always ends up wanting more. Someone always ends up hurt. And we can't have that. I can't screw up the group just because I want in your pants. It's not ok. I'm sorry I put you in that position."

"Lynn," he said softly, shaking his head. His face was screwed up in confusion. "I… I don't… are you breaking up with me?"

"Kind of," she shrugged. "I'm calling off the arrangement. It's over. From here on out, we are friends and friends only: no benefits."

He was gaping at her, his lips moving soundlessly. She would have giggled if she didn't feel so depressed. He looked like a dying fish. But this had to be done; she was sure of it. She'd never been so sure about anything.

"Catch you later," she said cheerfully, and then she walked out the door.

Sam didn't follow her. It kind of hurt, but she knew it was for the best.

* * *

Jayne hauled her duffel bag on her shoulder and marched out of her motel room, feeling strangely pumped up and wide-eyed, despite not having gotten enough sleep. She headed for the truck, which appeared to be abandoned, even though she'd watched her stepsister head out there mere moments before. Shaking her head, she headed for Janis and hefted her duffel into the bed.

Turning around, she walked straight into a hard chest and nearly stumbled backwards into her truck. "Whoa," Dean said, catching her. Jayne's breath hitched. "Sorry."

She glared at him. He was still holding her up, and she immediately wished he'd just let her fall on her ass. Her skin was too warm where he was clutching her, and she felt this odd, bubbly sensation in her stomach.

"You should be sorry," she retorted. "You creepy little fuck. What are you doing lurking behind me like that?"

He chuckled, and her glare melted into a smirk. Dean let go of her, and she took a step back from him. "I said sorry," he reminded her. "Just so you know, Sam and I are going to head out to the auction house before we hit the road."

Jayne was tempted to make snarky comments about Sarah Blake and Sam, but she didn't. She was sick of fighting. "Cool," she nodded. "Meet you in Pennsylvania?"

"Sounds good," he agreed. "We'll call."

"All right," she grinned. "See you later."

He grinned back, and Jayne swallowed as he leaned in too close, his face inches from her. "Later, Goldilocks."

Then he turned away and headed for the Impala. As she watched him climb into the driver's seat, she saw Sam emerge from the Winchesters' motel room with his bags in hand. The car engine turned over, and Jayne forced herself to move, shaking her head clear.

"Ready?" her sister asked, suddenly appearing at her side. Jayne jumped.

"What the crap?" she demanded. "Why is everyone sneaking up on me today?"

Lynn shrugged and smirked. "Maybe because your reaction is so hilarious?"

Jayne narrowed her eyes. "Get in the truck."

Lynn did as told, and Jayne headed around the front of her vehicle, glancing at the Impala as it pulled out its parking space. There was undeniably still something there, she thought. The tension and the attraction between her and Dean wasn't going away anytime soon. Eventually it would, she told herself. But for now, she was going to have to find a way to ignore it. They were friends, and they couldn't muck up that friendship with sex. She'd made the right choice.

At least, she thought she had. Jayne opened the door to the cab and climbed behind the wheel of her truck, her mind whirling in confusion. Suddenly, she wasn't so sure anymore.

* * *

Sam stood next to Sarah inside her father's auction house, watching two workmen pack the Merchant family portrait in a narrow crate and only half listening as Dean explained what he'd found at the county archives about the adopted daughter's real family. His mind was on other things. As much as the logical, rational part of his brain understood Lynn's decision, and even agreed with it, Sam still could not believe she had broken up with him.

He wanted to call her petty and vindictive. He wanted to say she'd only called off their arrangement to punish him for liking Sarah. But he couldn't. Deep down, he knew the real reason she'd done it, and it had nothing to do with Sarah. Sarah was just the catalyst.

"Where do you want this?" one of the workmen asked, jolting Sam out of his thoughts.

"Take it out back and burn it," Sarah replied.

Both men blinked at her, not moving a muscle. Sarah widened her eyes meaningfully at them. "I'm serious, guys. Thanks."

The two men exchanged curious looks, but they lifted the crate dutifully and took it out back as desired. Sam turned to look at Sarah and Dean. "Why do you think she did it?" she asked them, referring to the little girl who had killed her family.

Sam shrugged. "Killing others? Killing herself? Some people are just born tortured. So when they die, they're spirits are just as dark."

"Maybe," Dean retorted. "I don't really care. It's over; we move on."

Sam eyed Dean with irritation. Sarah was staring at him too, and a nervous chuckle escaped her lips. "So," she said, looking down at the floor. "I guess this means you're leaving."

He didn't know what to say, other than yes, of course we're leaving. Instead he said nothing, looking at the floor as well and smiling awkwardly. Dean just stood there, staring at the two shuffling people, and finally Sam glared at him, raising his eyebrows and hoping Dean would get the hint.

Dean eventually did realize what was going on. "I'll go wait in the car," he announced, succeeding in further straining the atmosphere. "See you, Sarah."

She nodded at him. Dean stared at them both a second longer, and then wiped the smirk from his face. Sam could hear him muttering under his breath as he walked away. He watched his brother leave, nervously scratching the back of his neck. Sarah took a step closer, her hands in her jeans pockets, looking as nervous and silly as he felt. "So," she said, smiling wide. "There are a million things I want to say to you, but for the life of me, I can't think of one."

Sam chuckled, and then quickly sobered. "Yeah, I'll miss you too."

Sarah nodded, her smile fading. Then, as quickly as the smile faltered, it was back. "You know there's a lesson in all this, right?"

"What's that?"

"We all got through this in one piece. I didn't get hurt."

Not entirely true, he realized, thinking back on Lynn's cut, but it was such a minor injury he supposed Sarah didn't think it counted. Really, it didn't. He shouldn't feel so guilty. "Yeah," he said out loud. "I'm glad for that."

"So maybe you're not cursed. Maybe…"

She was smiling, but her smile faded again as he stared back at her with serious eyes. "Maybe you'll come back and see me," she said softly.

Sam nodded. "I will."

Sarah smiled again, but this time she looked sad. Sam said his goodbyes, and headed for the door. He could hear her on his heels, and when he stepped outside, she pulled the doors shut behind him. Sam looked towards the Impala where Dean was waiting, fumbling around with the keys. He glanced back at the closed, milky glass doors. What he wanted to do was stupid, but so were his reasons for not doing it. He could remember Lynn telling him distinctly that he was a free man, and then he remembered her telling him they were friends who no longer had any benefits. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and he turned back to the door. Taking a deep breath, Sam knocked.

The doors opened almost immediately, and Sarah was waiting on the other side of them with a bright smile on her face. Sam leaned in and grabbed her around the face, pressing his lips into hers. He kissed her hungrily, and she kissed him back, her hands on his shoulders. She was taller than Lynn, and it was less of a strain to reach her lips, but the strain wasn't the only thing that was less. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something about that kiss, as badly as he had anticipated it, was not quite right.

When he pulled away, Sarah smiled at him again, but this time she looked a little disappointed. "So," she murmured. "Was it just me, or was that not quite as magical as I expected?"

He laughed out loud. "What are you trying to say?" he joked. "That I'm a bad kisser?"

"You're a very good kisser," she assured him.

They stared at one another for a little while, smiling awkwardly, each with their hands in their pockets. Sam nodded, staring at the ground. "I know what you meant," he said.

She nodded back. "You should still come back and see me."

Sam grinned. "Right. Of course."

He stepped down off the stoop and glanced back up at her. She smiled and waved, and he waved back. He made his way to the Impala, feeling strangely light and at the same time very mixed up. Sarah was pretty and she was nice and she was everything he usually went for in a girl, but that kiss… it was a good kiss. He wouldn't mind kissing her again, but it wasn't… _she_ wasn't…

Sighing, Sam shook his head, pausing at the passenger door to run his hand through his hair. He couldn't help thinking that Lynn picked a really bad time to call off their arrangement.


	55. Dear John Letter

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing _Supernatural._ All I got to my name is Jayne and Lynn.

AN: Big thanks yous to angeleyenc, ColtFan165, AshlynPaige92, ks90, BritneyandArchieForever, Nelle07, SevenYearsLong, greentoothbrush, Lov3good, and hsv81896 for all the reviews! Especially yours, greentoothbrush – I love long reviews, and reading your thoughts really made my day!

* * *

Chapter 55: Dear John Letter

Dean yawned, crinkling up the newspaper in his hands and throwing it down on the table. He leaned against the large window directly behind his chair and folded his arms over his chest. "All right, dude, not a decent lead in all of Nebraska," he announced. "What have you got?"

The diner he was sitting in had rosy pink walls and cheap, white tiled floors. His seat was uncomfortable and the table was rickety, but the food had been good. Sam was sitting across the table from him, his fingers flying over the keys on his laptop. Lynn was sitting on Sam's side of the table with a newspaper in her hands. Jayne had already gotten up to pay the check, and he could see her leaning against the counter on the other side of the diner, shifting her weight from one long leg to the other.

He swallowed, looking away as she reached into her back pocket to grab her wallet. Jayne was off limits again, and he couldn't be staring at her ass. "Well, I've been scanning Wyoming, Colorado, South Dakota," Sam said, redirecting Dean's attention. "Here, in Iowa, a woman fell ten thousand feet from an airplane and survived."

Dean shrugged. "Sounds more like 'That's Incredible' than 'Twilight Zone.'"

Sam nodded and looked back down at his computer. Lynn yawned this time, putting her newspaper down. "Well, I didn't find anything worth checking out either," she informed them. "Maybe we should just start driving again. Head south, maybe."

Dean just wanted to head anywhere that wasn't this crappy little diner. The four hunters had headed out west after the hunt in New York, and knocked out a few ghosts and things out in Utah, and now they were looking for a new hunt. It had been a few days, and Dean was starting to get cabin fever.

"Maybe we should just head east," he suggested, smirking at his little brother. "New York? Upstate? Stop by and see Sarah again. Huh? Cool chick, man. Smoking. You two seemed very friendly. What do you say?"

He raised his eyebrow at his brother. Sam glared at him. Dean glanced over at Lynn, but found she hadn't reacted at all to the comments about Sarah. He frowned slightly. "Yeah," Sam murmured. "Maybe someday. But in the meantime, we've got a lot of work to do, and you know that."

Dean sighed at his brother's attitude, but couldn't argue. "Yeah, you're right," he grumbled.

"Damn, did Dean just admit someone else was right about something?" Jayne's snarky voice sounded in his ear. He looked up in surprise as she slid into the chair next to him. "I leave the table for five minutes, and already I'm missing stuff."

"We're discussing where to go next," Lynn told her stepsister. "Dean suggested New York for a little shore leave, and Sam told him to get his head back in the game."

Jayne raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Dean stared at the tabletop, remembering the last time he'd suggested shore leave, and exactly who he'd ended up taking shore leave with…

"Here's something else," Sam spoke up suddenly. "A man in Colorado by the name of Daniel Elkins was found mauled in his home."

"Elkins?" Dean repeated. "I know that name."

He reached for the bag at his feet, intent on digging out his dad's journal. "That's not a surprise," Lynn said. "Daniel Elkins was a big time vampire hunter back in the day. Nearly hunted the things into extinction." She inhaled harshly, shaking her head. "God, I can't believe he's dead."

Dean looked up at her in surprise. Sam gawked at her too. Lynn looked shocked and a little sad. "You knew Elkins?" Sam asked.

"Vampires?" Dean hissed incredulously.

Lynn glanced at her sister. "Yeah, he knew our Dad," she explained to Sam. Then she frowned at Dean. "What about vampires?"

Dean snorted. "Uh… they're not real?"

Jayne laughed out loud. "Are you serious?"

He whipped his head around to glare at her. Jayne's smirk faded, and she frowned at him. "Holy crap, you're serious," she said. "Dean, how do you not know about vampires?"

"If they were real, our dad would have said something," Dean retorted.

"Maybe not," Lynn said carefully. "There aren't a lot of them left. He might not have thought it was important."

"Wait, so vampires are real?" Sam asked.

Lynn nodded. "Yeah. Elkins hunted them – well, he hunted lots of things, but mostly vampires. He and my dad weren't close, but they _did_ know each other. Dad called him up every time he thought he'd found a nest."

"Nest?" Dean repeated. He was officially operating on incredulous mode.

Lynn shrugged. "Yeah, vampires hunt in packs."

"Do you think it was vampires that killed Elkins?" Sam wanted to know.

The other hunter sighed, clearly exasperated. "Well, I don't know, do I? Read me the rest of the article, Sam."

Sam blinked at her harsh tone, and Dean would have laughed if he wasn't still trying to wrap his mind around the situation. "Uh… it sounds like the police don't know what to think," Sam informed them as he scanned the rest of the news story. "At first they thought it was a bear attack, but now they've found signs of robbery."

"Bear attack and robbery?" Jayne snorted. "Yeah, I'm willing to bet it was vampires. He must have pissed a lot of them off when he was younger."

Dean was only half listening to the conversation, his mind still stuck on the word _vampire_. He returned to the bag on the floor and extracted his dad's journal. As he flipped through the pages, searching for Elkins' name, he heard Lynn say, "We should definitely head up there and check it out."

Sam nodded. Dean found the page he was looking for and slapped the journal on the tabletop triumphantly. "D. Elkins," he read, pointing to the name and phone number listed in John Winchester's journal. "Check it out."

His brother took the journal and frowned down at the entry. "You think it's the same Elkins?" he asked.

"Colorado area code," Dean returned.

Sam nodded, laying the journal back down. "All right, so the guy's a hunter. Russ knew him, our dad knew him… and you think he was killed by vampires?"

"Vampires," Dean snorted. "Gets funnier every time I hear it."

"It's a definite possibility," Lynn said, ignoring Dean's sidebar.

"Then I guess we're checking it out," Sam decided.

"I hope you two know how to take a vampire out," Dean informed Lynn and Jayne. "Because up until five minutes ago, I thought the whole vampire thing was just a bad dream courtesy of Bram Stoker."

"We know how to take out a vampire," Lynn assured him, rolling her eyes.

"Yep," Jayne smirked. "Just cut its head off."

Dean cocked his eyebrow. Sam rolled his eyes too. "All right," he said with a sigh. "Let's just get on the road, ok guys?"

Everyone agreed, and got to their feet. Dean swung his jacket off the back of his seat and put it back on before following the other three hunters to the front door.

"Vampires," he muttered to himself as he stepped out onto the street. "I don't freaking believe it."

* * *

It was late spring, but it was still cold in the Colorado Rockies. After driving several hours to reach Daniel Elkins' cabin, the four hunters had arrived in Colorado well after dark and were greeted by snowfall halfway up the mountain. Lynn sighed from the passenger seat of Jayne's truck, staring out the window at the tiny flakes floating down from the night sky. She could see the valley town they'd just left below them, and it looked considerably warmer down there.

Jayne stopped the truck just behind the Impala, where the dirt road dead-ended near Elkins' cabin. Lynn watched as Dean and Sam climbed out of the Impala. Jayne hopped down from the truck cab, and Lynn followed moments behind.

The air was thin, and her breath puffed out in foggy clouds of condensation. She followed her sister towards the Winchester boys. The door to Elkins' cabin was padlocked shut. Lynn watched as Dean picked the lock by the light of their four flashlights. Soon enough, the lock clicked out of place, and Dean pushed the door open. They all headed inside the cabin, which was pitch dark and even colder than the air outside.

"Looks like the maid didn't come today," she heard Dean's voice carry from the back of the cabin.

She frowned into the darkness from where Dean's voice had sounded; watching as Jayne's plaid covered back vanished in that same direction. Sam knelt down by the still open door, studying the cabin floor under the beam of his light. She turned towards him, frowning at the top of his ducked head. "What is it?" she asked.

"Salt," he replied, examining the tiny white granules sticking to his fingertips. "We've got salt by the door!" he bellowed back at Dean and Jayne.

"Protection against demons salt or 'oops, I spilled the popcorn' salt?" Dean called back.

"It's clearly a ring!" Sam replied.

"Clearly," Jayne's voice sounded next, dripping with irony. Lynn rolled her eyes at Sam, who shook his head and smirked slightly as he stood back up. He made his way back towards the other two hunters and Lynn followed on his heels.

She could hear wind whistling from the back room, and soon discovered why when the two of them reached the room in question. The skylights overhead had been shattered, and debris littered the room. It looked like a tornado had gone through the place.

Dean and Jayne were hunched over a desk on the right, and Lynn followed Sam towards them. "Check this out," Dean said to them, noticing their approach. "Looks just like Dad's."

Sam came to stand by his brother, and Lynn walked around to the other side of the desk, across the way from the other three. She frowned down at the journal lying on the tabletop. Dean was right; it did bear an unsettling resemblance to John Winchester's journal. It too was bound in dark brown leather and filled with the same sorts of anecdotes and hand drawn symbols, detailing the adventures of Daniel Elkins. "Huh," Sam murmured, eyes roving the pages. "It does look like Dad's."

"Except it dates back to the sixties," Dean added.

Jayne walked away from the desk then and started examining the rest of the room, a frown etched between her eyebrows and her flashlight beam pointed into all the different corners. Lynn heard glass crunching under her stepsister's boots. "You said this guy knew your father?" Sam asked suddenly, and Lynn looked up at him in surprise. He stared back at her expectantly.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Like we said, they weren't real buddy-buddy or anything, but they hunted together from time to time. I only met him once, and I barely remember the guy. I was only seven, I think."

"Eight," Jayne corrected gruffly.

"Whatever."

"He taught Russ all about vampires," Jayne went on, eyes on the floor. "Guy was obsessed with them. Bet you anything that's what took him out."

"What do you guys know about vampires?" Sam asked.

"Besides the whole decapitation is the only surefire way to kill them thing," Dean added.

Lynn began circling the room too, letting her sister field the questions. Her eyes roved over broken glass and tree limbs and splintered furniture. "Most of the lore is bullshit," Jayne informed the brothers. "No aversion to holy water or crucifixes or wooden stakes. Sunlight hurts them, but barely. Definitely doesn't turn them into big piles of dust ala _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_."

"Buffy," Dean snorted, before smirking inappropriately. "Mm, Sarah Michelle Gellar."

"Yeah, slayers aren't real either," Jayne said, rolling her eyes. "Vampires do drink human blood, though. That part of the lore is fact. Vampires also used to be people; when a vampire feeds a human its blood, or has blood on blood contact with them, that person turns into a vampire."

Dean snorted again. "Of course they do."

Lynn knelt down besides an old wooden gun case and frowned at it. "I wonder what was in here," she announced, lifting the box from the debris and shaking glass off of it.

"A gun," Jayne retorted.

Lynn shot her sister a dirty look. "I meant what kind of gun? It's gone, so I'm guessing the vampires took it."

"Vampires stealing a gun?" Dean asked. "What would a bunch of bloodsuckers want with a gun?"

Jayne shrugged. "Probably just liked it or they thought it was worth something. Case looks pretty old."

"Would there have been a lot of them?" Sam wanted to know. "The vampires?"

Jayne nodded. "They live and hunt in packs, so most likely."

Dean appeared at Lynn's side then, kneeling next to her to check out the gun case. She held it out to him for inspection, but he didn't take it. Frowning, Lynn glanced at him over her shoulder and found him staring at the floor, his brow furrowed, and running his fingers over the wooden planks. "There are scratches in the floor," he announced.

"Death throes, maybe?" Sam suggested.

"Maybe," Dean murmured, but he didn't sound convinced. "Hey, hand me a piece of paper and a pencil, would you?"

Lynn, closest to the desk, reached over and grabbed the requested items, holding them out to the older Winchester brother. Dean took the paper and laid it flat on the floor over the scratch marks. Then, as Lynn watched him with skeptical eyes, he took the pencil and scribbled over the paper.

"What are you doing?" she wanted to know.

He cackled, eyes on the graphite mess he'd made of the paper. "Being awesome." With that, he held up the piece of paper and waved it in her face. Lynn glared at him and snatched it from his hands, frowning down at the white letters shining through the shading.

"This looks like the location and combination of a post office box," she surmised.

"It's a mail drop," Sam murmured.

"Just like Dad does it," Dean agreed.

Lynn handed the paper back to Dean. "All right," she said, taking a deep breath. "So what do we do?"

"Head into town, find the P.O. box, and crack that sucker open," Dean replied.

"Sounds like a plan," Jayne spoke up. "Let's go."

They all headed for the exit, and once again Lynn took up the rear. Her eyes wandered towards Sam, who was sauntering through the front door. His jeans were riding low on his hips and clinging tightly to his butt, and she couldn't help the way her gaze seemed to linger on him just a little too long. She'd told him it was over; that they were back to being just friends, with no benefits. Still, that didn't make her _want_ those no longer existing benefits any less than she had before.

She knew she'd done the right thing, though. What she'd been doing with Sam was stupid, and it had to end. She'd maintain that no matter what.

Lynn stepped out into the cold night air, snow dusting her shoulders, and followed the other three hunters to where they'd left their cars. The freezing wind was enough on its own to give her shivers, but as she crossed Daniel Elkins' front yard, something else sent a chill down her spine.

She could feel the eyes on the back of her neck again, just as she had before in New York. After they'd spent time in New Paltz, the sensation of being watched had gone away, and Lynn had chocked it up to her overactive imagination. Now, in the middle of Colorado mountain country, the feeling was back. Something was watching her; of that, she was certain.

Her sister had already started the truck when she clambered into the cab. "You all right?" Jayne asked as Lynn shut the door. "You look kind of weird all of a sudden."

Lynn looked up guiltily, and then forced a smile. "I'm cold, that's all."

Jayne studied her with steely eyes, but then nodded and said, "All right then."

The Impala roared to life ahead of them and turned around in the dirt before roaring off down the mountain. Jayne did the same thing, and soon they were headed back into town. Lynn was grateful. She didn't know if someone was really watching her or not, but she wasn't ready to tell Jayne about it.

She wasn't ready to tell anyone.

* * *

Jayne folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall in the dark, beat-up old motel room, rolling her eyes. They had checked in mere moments ago – quickly discovering that nearly all the rooms had been booked, and the four of them had to share one room with two queen beds. She was irritated – how could a motel be booked up in this small mountain town? There wasn't a damn thing in it.

Mostly, she was annoyed at the other three hunters in the room. Lynn was sitting at the small table by the door, Dean was perched on the edge of one of the beds, and Sam was pacing, a small white envelope clutched in his hands.

"Should we open it?" he asked.

"No, let's practice our Origami on it," Jayne retorted, fully exasperated at this point.

Sam glared at her. Jayne shrugged at him, her eyes darting towards the letter. "We ain't getting any younger here, Sam."

He sighed and stared at the envelope.

They'd found the envelope in the Daniel Elkins' P.O. Box less than an hour earlier. By the time they had reached the town, the post office had been closed. Of course, that hadn't stopped Sam from disarming the alarm, and it hadn't stopped Dean from breaking in through the back door. It also hadn't stopped them from finding the P.O. Box in question, opening the lock, and stealing Daniel Elkins' mail.

When Dean had pulled that small white envelope from the P.O. Box, Jayne had known right away they were in for one hell of a hunt. The letter had been addressed to J.W.

"You think?" Sam had asked, his eyes wide and hopeful.

"I don't know," Dean had replied, looking shook up.

"All right," Jayne had said, taking charge. "Let's get a motel, sit down and read the damn thing."

Now they were in the motel room, only half of them were sitting down, and nobody reading the damn letter. Jayne sighed harshly. "Open it or I will," she announced.

It was then that somebody knocked on the motel room door.

Jayne stood up off the wall, her shoulders tensing as her eyes flitted towards the door. Lynn got up from the table, and Dean rose from the edge of the bed. Sam turned at the sound too, still clutching the unopened letter. Jayne watched uneasily as Dean headed for the door and peeked through the peephole.

He heaved a sigh of relief and threw open the door. Jayne frowned at the man framed in the doorway. There stood none other than John Winchester.

"Dad," Dean greeted him, and Jayne honestly hated his excited tone. Her frown darkened. "What are you doing here?"

The tall, middle-aged man stooped in through the door, lifting his head to survey the room. Jayne's eyes surveyed him critically, taking in the shaggy salt-and-pepper hair, his full, gray flecked beard, and the dark, serious green eyes.

"Hey boys," he greeted Dean and Sam, giving Dean a brief hug before the eldest brother pulled away to close the door. Sam greeted him with a nod, not moving from the center of the room. John glanced around the room then, took in the sight of Jayne and her stepsister, and proceeded to look mildly put out.

Not that he mentioned it. Jayne kept her position by the wall, still eyeing him. Lynn spared the older hunter a smile. "Nice to see you again, John," she said.

John nodded. "You too."

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Sam spoke up, repeating Dean's earlier question. "Are you all right?"

"I heard about Daniel," John replied. "Got here as fast as I could."

Jayne cocked an eyebrow at the older man, her arms still crossed. She clenched one arm in her fist, trying to stay calm. _Nice to see you move your ass for something, John Winchester_. The comment was on the tip of her tongue, and it took a hell of a lot of energy not to throw it at the other hunter.

"I saw you all up at his cabin," John went on.

"That was you up there?" Lynn asked immediately, and Jayne frowned at her sister. She'd noticed someone watching them and hadn't said anything?

He nodded at her, and Lynn heaved a noticeable sigh of relief. Jayne didn't get a chance to scold Lynn, however, as Sam cut in with, "Why didn't you come in, Dad?"

"You know why," John barked. "I had to make sure you weren't followed – by anyone, or anything. Nice job covering your tracks, by the way."

It was good to know they weren't being followed, Jayne supposed. It didn't make her any less annoyed at Dean and Sam's father. Her teeth were grinding, tension building along her jaw.

"Yeah, well, we learn from the best," Dean returned, smirking. Jayne rolled her eyes.

"Wait, so you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?" Sam demanded.

John nodded. "He was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting."

"But you never mentioned him to us," Sam pointed out.

"We had kind of a falling out."

That didn't surprise Jayne in the slightest. She had a feeling that she was about to have a serious falling out with John Winchester too. Determinedly, she chewed the inside of her mouth, directing hard eyes at the back of his head, and did her best to remain silent.

"I hadn't seen him in years," John went on. Then he glanced towards the letter in Sam's hand and gestured for it. "I should look at that."

Sam looked hesitant to hand the envelope over, but he did. Jayne tilted her chin and narrowed her eyes, watching John slide his finger under the seal and tear open the envelope. Slowly he withdrew the paper and unfolded it. With a hesitant glance at Jayne and her sister – he obviously didn't fully trust them and wanted them gone, which was just fine with Jayne as she considered the feeling to be mutual – he read aloud, "If you're reading this, I'm already dead."

His eyes traveled down the page, and then he shook his head, swearing. "That son of a bitch, he had it all along."

"Dad," Sam frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"When you searched the place, did you see a gun?" John demanded. "An antique? A Colt revolver? Did you see it?"

"There was an old case, but it was empty," Lynn spoke up hesitantly. "We figured the vampires must have taken it."

John snapped his head in her direction, looking surprised. "Yeah, we know all about Elkins and vampires," Jayne snapped, unable to hold her tongue any longer. "Just because you didn't tell your kids anything about them doesn't mean Russ did the same."

The other hunter leveled a steely, impassive glare at her, but Jayne held her own, tilting her chin and staring him down. "Don't worry; we already filled your boys in," she told him. "Now, what is it that Elkins had all along? Why is it so important?"

John ignored her question, and turned to address his sons. "We've got to pick up the vampires' trail," he announced.

"Excuse me?" Sam retorted, and Jayne was secretly glad to see his temper flaring too. At least she had one person on her side. "Dad, what's going on? What's so special about this gun?"

"We don't have time for this," he replied. "We've got to find the vampires first."

"Bull shit," Jayne snapped. "I think we have time for a five minute explanation."

Her face was hot and her fists were clenched. She took a step forward on tight, tense legs and glared at John Winchester. He glared back. "Dad," Dean spoke up, sounding concerned. "What's wrong? Why can't you tell us?"

"I'll tell you," John assured him, despite his tone being anything but assuring. "Just not now."

"Oh, yes, now," Jayne returned. "You're going to lead everyone here onto a vampire pack's trail in pursuit of some gun without telling anyone why the damn thing is so important? I don't think so."

"Jayne," Lynn said quietly. "Maybe now isn't the best time."

"Sure it is," she bit out. "There's no time like the present."

John said nothing, which surprised her. She half expected him to jump down her throat. He just stood there, eyeing her with irritation. That pissed her off more than anything, she decided. John couldn't even spare her the bother of being angry at her questions; he viewed her as a mild inconvenience.

"Dad?" Sam pressed. "What's going on? You want us to help now?"

"I want you boys to get some rest," he announced. "I'll turn the police scanner to the local frequency. If there are vampires in the area, we're going to hear about abandoned cars and missing persons."

"You didn't answer my question," Sam pointed out.

"Later," John returned, heading for the door. "I'll be right back."

The moment the door shut behind him, Sam rounded on the rest of them. "What isn't he telling us?" he exclaimed. "Why won't he just say what's going on with Elkins and this gun?"

"Just relax," Dean said. "He'll tell us when he thinks it's time."

"It's time now," Jayne informed him. "He can't be withholding information from us like that. He might not like us or know us, but Lynn and I are in this with you and Sam, and I won't be dragged around like a suitcase. I want to know what's going on, and if your father expects us to work together, he's got to tell us."

Dean sighed harshly and glared at her. "Jayne, for crying out loud, can you not do this right now? My dad just got into town."

"What does that have to do with anything?" she retorted.

Dean didn't reply because John returned then, armed with a duffel bag and a police radio. He simply gave her a short, pleading look, and then turned to talk to his father.

Jayne gritted her teeth and clenched her fists and narrowed her eyes at John Winchester's head, willing it to explode. Nothing happened, and she was left feeling furious and dissatisfied.

It might cost her Dean's friendship, she realized, but she was not going to let John get away with this need-to-know crap for the entire hunt. Sooner or later she was going to snap and demand answers – and if she didn't get them? John Winchester was going to have one more hunter on his list of ex-allies with whom he'd 'fallen out.'

* * *

To say Sam was pissed would be an understatement. He was beyond pissed, beyond irate, beyond livid and inching into the territory of furious. The relief he'd experienced at seeing his father walk into their motel room the night before had melted away almost immediately, and had been replaced with curiosity, irritation, and resentment.

It was worse now. After daylight came, John had woken up the other four hunters and hauled them out of their shared motel room, barking orders about vampires and police officers and then dragged them down the main mountain road. Now they were all parked on the bend, one car and two trucks sitting in the gravel shoulder, and John was standing with the cops, asking questions about a 9-1-1 call and the discovery of an abandoned car.

He'd left the other four behind to wait for him by their vehicles, and Sam was pissed about it. Sam and his brother had been doing this kind of thing solo for roughly nine months now, and it irked him to no end how his father could just swoop in out of nowhere, with no explanations, and go right back to treating them like adolescents.

"This is bullshit," Jayne announced angrily, and Sam agreed whole-heartedly. It was nice to know at least one person in their little group wasn't going to take his father's crap lying down.

"I know," he said. "I don't see why we couldn't have gone over there with him."

"Oh, don't tell me it's already starting," Dean groaned.

"What's starting?"

"Dad's been back only a few hours, and already there's static between you?"

"Why wouldn't there be static?" Jayne challenged him. "Your dad's treating us all like soldiers and he's the drill sergeant. Last I checked, I don't answer to him. If he wants to work together, he needs to keep us on the up and up."

"Exactly," Sam agreed.

Dean sighed harshly, running a hand over his face. "Jayne," Lynn said quietly. "Just calm down, all right? Once we're on the vampire's trail, I'm sure John will explain things."

Jayne snorted. "Why are you sticking up for him?"

"I'm not. You're right, he wrong, I agree. I just don't want everyone to be fighting for the whole hunt. We do enough of that as it is."

"Thank you," Dean exclaimed.

Sam shook his head in irritation. "Look, I don't want to fight," he said. "But I don't want to hunt like this either."

Dean looked like he had more to say on the subject, and Sam had plenty to say back. But before either of them could say a word their father appeared, finally back from talking with the cops.

"What have you got?" Dean asked.

"It was them all right," John replied. "Looks like they're heading west. We're going to have to double back and get around that detour."

"How can you be so sure?" Sam demanded.

"Sam," Dean cut in warningly.

"I just want to be sure we're headed in the right direction."

"We are," John returned.

"And we just take your word for it?" Jayne retorted. "Sorry, John, but I'm going to need a little bit more than that."

Sam watched as his father's eyes darkened and the older man turned a scowl on Jayne. He couldn't help the tiny smirk that pulled at his lips. It was nice not being the only one pissed at his father for a change. More importantly, if anyone could take John Winchester to task, it was Jayne Gibson… and Sam was sure going to enjoy watching her do it.

Slowly and deliberately, John pulled a small, pointy white tooth from his jacket pocket. "I found this," he announced, his tone clipped and annoyed.

Dean snatched it from his fingers, examining it enthusiastically. "It's a vampire fang."

"No fangs, teeth," John corrected him. "The second set descends when they attack."

Then he turned a dark look on Sam – which pissed Sam off even more, considering he wasn't the only one who'd been second-guessing him – and asked, "Any more questions?"

Sam said nothing, feeling both petulant and abashed. Jayne smirked at the older hunter. "Nope," she replied. "I guess I'm good. But now that you've showed us the vampire tooth, you've got to admit; pulling that thing out of your pocket and waving it at us really wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Are you done?" John returned, his tone annoyed yet infuriatingly patient. "Because we don't have a whole lot of time here. We're losing daylight."

"_So_ done," Jayne said. Then she turned her back on him and marched for her truck. Lynn offered the remaining three hunters a sheepish shrug and an apologetic smile before following her sister back to their vehicle.

Sam narrowed his eyes first at her retreating back, and then at his father, who was glaring after the stepsisters. "Is there a reason those girls are out here with you?" John asked.

"They've been hunting with us," Sam replied challengingly, although in all honesty the protective tone of his voice had very little to do with Jayne and Lynn, and a lot more to do with pissing off his father. "Why? Is that going to be a problem?"

John didn't reply. He marched towards his truck. "Let's get a move on," he ordered over his shoulder. "And Dean, why don't you touch up your car? You're going to get rust. I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were going to ruin it."

Sam couldn't help the childish chuckle that escaped his lips. His brother glared at him. Then they both got into the Impala, Sam taking the wheel for once. John pulled out into the road, Sam followed after him, and a few seconds later, Janis appeared in the Impala's rearview mirror.

As they rode along down the main road, Sam continued to fume silently to himself, shaking his head at the windshield. He didn't know why he'd expected things to be different this time around; things were never different when it came to his father. John Winchester was a drill sergeant, and nothing could make him change. This was exactly why Sam had left in the first place.

He only half listened as Dean perused Elkins' journal, reading out loud little bits about vampires that Jayne and Lynn hadn't mentioned before. "Vampires nest in groups of eight to ten; smaller packs are sent out to hunt for food… victims are taken back to the nest where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if that's what happened to that 9-1-1 couple."

"That's probably what Dad's thinking," Sam shrugged, still irritated. "Of course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks."

Dean stared at him. "So it _is_ starting."

Sam shrugged again. He couldn't help it, even though he knew how badly the fighting between him and his father upset Dean. "Sam, we've been looking for him all year, and we're only back with him for a couple hours, and already you're…"

"Look, I'm happy he's ok!" Sam cut his brother off. "I'm happy we're all working together again…"

"Good," Dean interrupted, ducking his head. Apparently that was supposed to be the end of the conversation. Sam tried not to keep going, but he couldn't stop himself.

"It's just the way he treats us like we're children!" Sam finally exploded.

"Oh, god," Dean grumbled.

"He barks orders at us and expects us to follow them without question! He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal!"

"He does what he does for a reason."

"What reason?" Sam snapped.

"Our job! There's no time for arguing, there's no margin for error! It's just the way the old man does things."

"Yeah, well maybe that worked when we were kids," Sam returned angrily. "But things are different now. You and I have been hunting solo for months. Besides, Jayne and Lynn aren't going to put up with his crap much longer either, and you have to know that."

Dean shook his head, chewing the inside of his cheek. "Sam…"

"What?" Sam challenged him. "You think they will? Lynn's trying to be nice right now because he's our dad and we haven't seen him in so long, but you know how she is! Eventually, she's going to crack! She likes to be in the loop, to have all the information, to talk things out… Dad's way of doing things isn't going to work!"

"Well, she'll just have to adjust!"

"And Jayne?" Sam pushed. "Have you not noticed the way she's acting? If you think there's static between _me_ and Dad, check out the static between him and _Jayne_!"

Dean's fingers tightened on the journal in his lap, crinkling the corners of the pages. "I'll deal with Goldilocks," he returned harshly.

Sam barked out one short, disbelieving laugh. "You'll _deal_ with her? How? Tell me, Dean, exactly how is that supposed to work?"

"I'll ask her to back off and she will!"

"No, she won't! Where have you been for the past few hours? You _have_ been asking her to back off, and as far as I can tell, she's not doing it!"

"Damn it, Sam…!"

"And why should she?" Sam barreled on. "Dad just waltzes back into our lives, starts issuing orders and taking over everything, and you want her to just sit back and take it? He's not _her_ father, Dean! I think she's totally justified in…"

"Well, of course you do," Dean snapped. "Anything to tick off the old man, right?"

Sam sighed in irritation. "That's _not_ what this is!"

"It looks that way to me, Sam!"

"Come off it! You can't honestly sit there and tell me you're ok with this! We're not kids anymore, Dean, and after everything you and I have been through, Dad's usual crap isn't going to cut it!"

Dean said nothing, which only further infuriated Sam. He had a _right_ to be angry, and Dean should be angry too. Nothing pissed Sam off more than the way his brother acted around their father. Not even his father could piss him off more than that.

"I mean, are you telling me you're cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show?" Sam demanded.

His brother didn't answer right away. Sam took his eyes off the road to glance at him. Dean looked away, and shrugged.

"If that's what it takes."

He left it at that. Sam shook his head in disbelief, glaring at the road.

As far as he was concerned, being a family again was going to take a whole hell of a lot more than that.

* * *

Lynn leaned back in the passenger seat of her sister's truck and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stave off the headache that was forming over her eye. It was well after dark by now and spending an entire day trapped in the truck with her furious stepsister had officially stressed her out.

Not that she wasn't stressed before. John Winchester's unexpected return had completely thrown everyone off, and it was enough to make Lynn crave a cigarette. On the one hand, she couldn't blame Jayne for her reaction. The older man was infuriating; on that point, she and Jayne were agreed. He wasn't telling them everything they needed to know, and nothing pissed Lynn off more than that. Not only was he withholding, he was also bossy, gruff, and just plain rude. It had been obvious from the moment he'd stepped into their motel room the night before that he did not want her or Jayne around.

She didn't appreciate the sideways looks he kept throwing her and Jayne. She didn't care for the way he barked orders, gave no explanations, and expected complete obedience from everyone around him. But the way Sam and Jayne were acting was equally inexcusable.

Sam was understandable; she knew how he felt about his father. When John had announced his intention to stick around, she'd anticipated Sam reacting this way. Jayne's reaction, however, was a bit of a surprise.

Jayne was still fuming, her angry eyes glowering at the Impala's back bumper and her hands gripping the wheel too tight. Lynn sighed and glanced at her, rubbing her forehead. "Jaynie," she scolded gently.

"Don't Jaynie me," Jayne snapped. "He's a dick, and I want to punch him in the face."

"Agreed on all points," Lynn replied. "But you're not helping matters."

"Well, then what do you suppose I do?" Jayne demanded. "Shake hands, fake a smile, and pretend I'm a-ok with his bullshit?"

"Not exactly," Lynn murmured. "But you could be a little more patient, and a lot less hostile."

Jayne snorted, and muttered something under her breath that could have been an insult, a threat, or just plain gibberish. Lynn rolled her eyes. "He's their father," she pointed out. "Can you keep your cool please? The last thing we need is to cause problems."

"I'm sorry! Did you switch bodies with some cool, collected, non-problem-causing person?" Jayne retorted. "Because right now, I don't recognize you."

Lynn glared at her. "All I'm saying is that if it were Dad pulling this same crap – and you know he would be doing just that right now – you'd be falling in line instead of throwing a fit."

"That's different."

"How?"

"It just is!"

Lynn sighed impatiently. "Jayne, you're being a total pain in the ass right now. I know you don't like taking orders from other people and all that, but for the last freaking time, _he is their father_. A little understanding would be nice. I mean, can you at least curb the attitude for Dean's sake?"

Jayne huffed. "As if that controlling absentee asshole has _ever_ considered doing anything for Dean's sake at any point in his miserable existence."

Lynn gaped at her sister. "Jayne!"

"What?"

"Are you serious? What do you mean, what? Why are you being this way?"

"I don't like him!"

"Well, you don't have to! But you don't have to throw the fact that you don't like him in everyone else's face! Sam's already throwing his weight around with his father, and we don't need you adding fuel to the fire."

Jayne went back to muttering angrily yet incoherently under her breath. Lynn shook her head in annoyance. "I don't know what happened to make you dislike him, but I do know that Dean loves that man. Since you claim to be such good friends with Dean, I would think you'd show a little patience where his father is concerned. After all, it's not like you can't relate. I always said Dad was controlling and I always argued with him, and you always did everything the man said. So why you can't just…"

"You think I don't know that!" Jayne snapped. "You think I don't look at John Winchester and see Russ? Why do you think I'm so pissed?"

An uncomfortable silence fell over the truck cab in the wake of Jayne's surprisingly honest admission. Lynn gawked at her, not totally believing what she was hearing. Jayne, admitting something about her feelings? Jayne, volunteering a personal anecdote about their father and the ways in which he'd managed to fuck her up? It was mind blowing.

"Jayne," Lynn whispered, not sure what to say. Her stepsister shook her head angrily.

"Russ barked orders too, I know. Russ kept things from us he shouldn't have, I get that. And the more we learn about Russ and Steve and my mom and your mom… damn it, Lynn, if the man were alive for me to scream at, I'd… well, hell, fuck screaming! I'd throttle the bastard!"

Another uncomfortable silence descended. Lynn continued to gawk at her sister, inexplicably feeling tears spring to her eyes. "You can't mean that," she said hoarsely.

"Sure I can," Jayne bit back, but her voice was more subdued now. The fire had left her eyes, and instead she just looked moody.

Lynn swallowed, hard. She stared at her sister, who was now refusing to take her eyes off the road. "Jayne," she murmured. "Look… whatever issues you still have about Dad… I mean, I agree with you, don't get me wrong, but… Dad's dead, and John isn't him, and you can't just take out your frustration on him because…"

"That's not what I'm doing!" Jayne interrupted fiercely. "That's not what's going on here, ok? I mean… yeah, I see Russ in John, and I don't like it. I'm pissed at Russ, even though I don't have a right to be. I know why he did what he did; I know why he didn't tell us things… I understand it, but it doesn't piss me off any less. It's just… look, I'm not projecting, ok?"

"Are you sure? Because it seems to me…"

"This isn't about Russ," Jayne said sternly. "At least, not all of it is. Maybe a tiny part is about Russ, but mostly… when I look at that man, and I see Dean… all I can think about is… is…"

Lynn gaped at her stepsister, who was still struggling to find her words. Jayne swallowed and wet her lips, shaking her head. "Nebraska," she finally whispered.

"What about Nebraska?" Lynn frowned.

"It just pisses me off that some hunter can get killed by vampires in the middle of the mountains and John Winchester will immediately come running to investigate and go after a stolen gun that is apparently super important for _some_ reason – not that he'll say why, of course – and yet, when Dean… he was just… he was _dying_, Lynn. I can still remember how… I mean… _where the hell was John then?_"

Her sister's final outburst shocked Lynn into silence. For a long time, she just stared at Jayne in awe, trying to understand exactly what she was missing. True, she'd seen the friendship between Dean and Jayne developing right in front of her; true, she was well aware of the UST that hung between them, so thick it was literally suffocating. Still, she hadn't expected this. Her sister looked so angry now, and her eyes were shining like she wanted to cry, and all Lynn could think was, when the hell had this happened?

"Jayne…" she started, but her voice caught. Lynn swallowed, trying to think of the right thing to say. She never got the chance to say anything. At that moment, all hell broke loose on the road ahead of them.

The Impala's engine suddenly roared as Sam put on the gas, and as Lynn watched in shock, the old car cut out into the other lane, swerved in front of John's truck, and then skidded to a stop, the full length of the car stretched across the entire road. John's tires squealed as he pumped the brakes, trying to stop. Beside her, Jayne cussed loudly, stomping down on her own brakes and twirling the steering wheel to avoid John's back bumper.

It felt like an eternity before all three cars finally came to a stop and the sound of tires squealing was no longer assaulting her ears. Lynn could smell burning rubber, and her legs felt weak. Beside her, Jayne was gawking at the two vehicles ahead of them. Both Sam and John climbed out of their respective driver's seats and started hollering at each other.

Jayne shook her head, tightening her jaw. "Goddamn it!" she bellowed.

Then her sister was hopping down from the truck and marching into the fight. Lynn sat still for a moment, debating whether or not to go after her, but she could hear Sam shouting all the way from the Impala, and she knew she had to do something.

She heaved a long-suffering sigh, and then she climbed out of the truck and chased after her sister.

* * *

Sam had finally reached the breaking point.

His anger and resentment had been building up ever since the argument with Dean several hours earlier, and when his father had ordered them to pull off at the next exit without explaining why, he'd snapped. He'd hit the gas, cut off his Dad's truck, and caused a three car roadblock in the middle of the main highway.

He was too pissed to care. The car was stopped and the engine was off, and Sam got out of the driver's seat and slammed the door behind him.

His father was out of his truck now too, slamming his door equally hard and looking every bit as pissed as Sam felt. "What the hell was that?" he demanded, stalking over to the Impala.

"We need to talk," Sam retorted, staring his father down.

"About what?"

"About everything. Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?"

"Sammy, get back in the car," Dean spoke up. Sam hadn't even noticed him get out of the Impala. "Come on, we can Q&A after we kill the vampires."

"Your brother's right. We don't have time for this."

Sam wasn't having any of that. He barreled right on. "Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help! Obviously, something big is going down, and we want to know what!"

John tilted his chin, and his voice got low and dangerous. "Get back in the car," he ordered.

"No."

"I said, get back in the damn car."

"Yeah," Sam retorted. "And I said no."

"Hey!"

The loud, angry bark came from Jayne, who had now arrived on the scene. Sam looked up at her arrival, watching her charge angrily over to the three of them, Lynn following close behind. For a moment, he was happy to see her. Surely, she'd have his back.

His certainty that Jayne would land on his side lasted right up until she grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and slammed him into the side of Dean's car.

"Oh, come on!" he heard Dean roar.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Jayne demanded, right up in Sam's face. "You nearly caused me to crash my truck! I swear to god, Sam, if there had been one scratch on Janis, I would be taking it out on your ass!"

Sam blinked. He was so shocked to hear her yelling about her _truck_ of all things, he quite forgot to be pissed that she'd slammed him into the car. Instead, he crinkled up his nose sheepishly and held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry," he murmured weakly.

"Damn straight, you're sorry," she retorted, releasing his jacket. Sam stood up all of the way, straightening his coat. Jayne looked from him to John, and then back again. "Now, what the fuck is going on?"

Silence. Sam said nothing, only glowered at his father. John lifted his chin but didn't open his mouth. Dean sighed harshly, running his hand over his face. Sam couldn't quite put into words what was running through his head. He felt like a teenager all over again.

"I want to know what's going on," he said, knowing he sounded petulant. "I want to know why Dad's here, and what the deal is with this gun. I'm tired of him ignoring my questions!"

"So you decided to stop and have this confrontation in the middle of the road?" Lynn tossed in incredulously. Sam glanced at her as she stepped up towards him. "Sam, come on."

He ducked his head, starting to feel stupid. Jayne sighed beside him, shaking her head. "Look, as much as I disagree with the whole yelling at each other in the street thing, Sam's got a point."

Sam looked up in surprise at her statement, but Jayne wasn't looking at him. She'd directed hard eyes at his father instead. "I mean, you show up here after months of ignoring your kids and think you can start running the show?"

"Jaynie," Lynn pleaded, but her sister ignored her.

"Sorry, but I've had it," Jayne spat. "If you think you can just roll into town and start barking orders at us, you've got another think coming, John. Killing vampires is one thing, but I think we all know you're more interested in getting your hands on that stupid gun than you are in exterminating a vampire nest."

John narrowed his eyes at her. "This is a family matter," he told her. "It's none of your damn business."

"Bullshit," Jayne retorted. "I'm working the case, aren't I? I deserve some answers."

"Well, no one's making you stick around," John pointed out.

What pissed Sam off more than anything, he decided, was the way his father wasn't shouting or losing his temper. He wasn't being friendly, but he wasn't yelling. He simply looked at Jayne like she was some sort of interloper, who had no business asking him questions. Her presence annoyed him, but not enough to dignify her with a real argument.

John was his father and all, but at the moment, Sam couldn't help thinking that the guy had some real nerve. After months of separation, he had no right to come in here and take over, and he had no right treating Jayne and Lynn like outsiders. When it came down to cold hard facts, John was more of an interloper than either of the stepsisters.

Jayne took a threatening step forward, but Dean stepped in between her and his father. "All right, that's enough!" he barked at both of them. "This isn't helping anything! We're all tired, and we can talk about this later."

Sam glared at his father over Jayne and Dean's heads. Jayne wasn't moving, and Dean was leaning into her, separating her from his father with his shoulder. "Damn it, Jayne," he growled. "Can you please get back in your truck?"

She shook her head, standing straight. "Jayne," Lynn spoke up. "We'll argue later, now let's get out of the road!"

Sam shook his head next as Jayne reluctantly backed down, stepping away from the other two men. She brushed past John on her way back to her truck, knocking his shoulder confrontationally. John whirled around to glare at her back. "Dad," Dean warned him.

Lynn didn't follow her sister right away. She paused to glare at both Sam and John. "You know, my sister's acting like a real jackass," she informed them. "But you two really ought to be ashamed of yourselves. I don't know when was the last time you worked with others John, but you're seriously out of practice. The way you're trying to run this show isn't working for over half of us."

John gave her a sideways glare, but Lynn had already turned her attention on Sam. The moment her dark eyes bored into his, brimming with disappointment, Sam suddenly felt small and ashamed. "And you're not helping anything," she informed him. "You're being every bit as confrontational and out-of-control as Jayne. Rein it in, knock it off… argue when the vampires are dead."

Then she turned on her heel and stomped off after her sister.

"I hate to admit it, but she's right," Dean announced. "Now let's just get in our cars and find the nest already."

Sam shook his head again, the anger still percolating under his skin. "Listen to your brother," John said, and Sam nearly lost it then and there. "And Dean? You want your girlfriend to work this case with us, you better keep her out of my face."

Dean blinked at his father, and for a moment Sam thought his brother was actually going to talk back. But he didn't. He just stood there, gawking angrily at the older man.

Sam turned back to the car, not sure who he was more pissed at; his father for being a controlling jerk, or Dean for taking it. "This is why I left in the first place," he muttered.

"What did you say?" his father immediately challenged him. Sam whirled around to find his father's angry glare tempered by a smirk, as though he was glad for an excuse to continue their confrontation.

"You heard me!" Sam snapped, refusing to be the one who backed down.

"Yeah, that's right!" John bellowed. "You left! Your brother and me? We needed you. You walked away!"

"You were the one who said don't come back, Dad!" Sam shouted. "You're the one who closed that door; not me! You were just pissed off you couldn't control me anymore!"

He and his father had closed the distance between them by now, and their hands were already reaching for each other's shirts and necks. Dean was instantly in between them, shoving them apart. "Stop it! That's enough!"

Sam stumbled backwards as his brother shoved him away. Silence fell over the three men, but John was still glaring at his youngest son, looking far from finished.

"That means you too," Dean said, looking straight at his father.

Sam swung open the driver's side door of the Impala and slid in behind the wheel, angrily slamming the door behind him. His father marched back to his truck, and seconds later, Dean was in the car beside Sam, looking as pissed off as the rest of them.

He started the car and waited for his father to take the lead again. Then he followed the truck down the road. Jayne trailed along behind them. "I hate him," Sam announced, his tone tight and bitter. "Sometimes, I really can't stand him."

"Yeah, caught that," Dean retorted in irritation.

"I'm sorry, but I can't sit back and take it anymore!" Sam exploded.

"Shut up!" Dean ordered. "I can't believe you! You, him, Jayne… enough is enough! Why is it so much to ask that we kill some vampires without killing one another first?"

Sam fell into petulant silence. His brother shook his head, glaring out the windshield. "Unbelievable," Dean muttered.

They didn't speak again until they'd gotten off the highway.

* * *

The sun had already risen by the time they'd found the vampire nest. It was an old, dilapidated barn that had once been painted red, but was now faded and peeling and as much the color white as anything else. Jayne had followed John's truck and Dean's Impala off the highway only a little while ago, and now they had hid their vehicles in some scrub brush on an embankment, located downwind from the barn. As they'd watched the place, old, rusty car after old, rusty car had pulled up to the big double doors, parking in the dirt outside the building, and people – what looked like people, anyway – had been steadily climbing out of the vehicles and heading inside.

Jayne hunkered down in the brush, eyes on the barn. One last car had pulled into the dirt drive, and now the barn door swung open to reveal a tall, pale man with long black hair peering out into the sun. A heavily tanned young man hopped out of the car and headed on into the barn.

"Son of a bitch," Dean breathed. "They're really not afraid of the sun."

"Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn," John explained. "The only way to kill them is by beheading."

Which everyone already knew, of course, but Jayne decided not to point that out and cause even more trouble.

"They sleep during the day," John went on. "But that doesn't mean they won't wake up."

"So I guess walking on in is not our best option," Dean mused.

"Actually," John replied. "That's the plan."

It was a stupid plan, Jayne decided, glowering at the other hunter's head. Her sister stepped on her foot, and Jayne refrained from saying anything. She knew she'd been vocal enough the night before, and it hadn't helped anything. Just outside a vampire nest was not the best place for arguing.

Dean was pissed at her about that; she could tell. The angry look he'd given her last night in the middle of the road spoke volumes. Jayne couldn't care less about keeping the peace with John at this point. The man thought he could bail on his kids, ignore them for nearly a year, and then just waltz back in and take over? Pretend like he never left, and start barking orders at everyone – including her and her sister, two hunters who were _not_ his children? She was about ready to shoot the old bastard right in his ass.

But Dean was another matter. As furious as she was, she hated knowing he was mad at her. She also hated herself for caring so much, but it was what it was. The last thing she wanted was to force his hand. It shouldn't come down to a choice between her or his father, but if she kept pushing, that's exactly what would happen. John had made that clear the night before.

They retreated to their vehicles and started selecting weapons for the hunt. Jayne pulled out a long, sharp machete, and her stepsister got her hands on an ax. "Dad," she heard Sam say hesitantly. "I don't want to… it's just that this gun…"

John nodded. "I know, Sam. Look, once I get it back, I'll fill you in."

Sam still looked put out, but he nodded back and fell silent, apparently not in the mood for another argument. Jayne's hand tightened around her machete. She knew exactly what was happening here, and it was already pissing her off even more.

When John said, 'we'll talk about this later,' what he really meant was, 'we'll talk about this when we're alone.' It didn't take a genius to figure out that the real problem for John was her and her sister. He didn't want _them_ to know about the gun. Sure, he was fine using their muscle to clean out a vamp nest, but when it came to this stupid Colt revolver? That was family business, and she and Lynn weren't welcome to share in it.

Her vision clouded momentarily. She was so angry she could have sliced her machete through John's neck as easily as if he'd been a vampire. But she took a deep breath, and forced herself not to fight.

She had to trust that Dean and Sam would call John on his bullshit and make sure John filled _all_ of them in, including her and Lynn. She had to believe that all those months of hunting together and sharing secrets had meant something to them. Sam, she was sure, would have no problem defying John's wishes. But Dean was, again, another matter.

It hurt to think he might fall into line behind his father and cut her out just because John said so. As they began picking their way through the brush, heading around to the back of the barn, Jayne fell into step beside Dean and whispered at him on impulse, "Dean, I'm sorry."

The two of them were at the back of the group now. Dean started at her sudden voice, and then frowned at her. "What?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "For all that stuff on the highway last night. I shouldn't have…"

"It's cool," he cut her off. "You weren't the only one acting like a dick."

She stifled a chuckle. "Did you just call me a dick?"

He shrugged and smirked at her. "If the shoe fits…"

Jayne smirked back. They didn't say anything else, but it didn't matter. She knew they were ok now. Only Dean would choose calling her a dick as an act of forgiveness.

Now all they had to do was clean out this nest, recover the mysterious gun, and get the hell out of there. Easier said than done, obviously. Still, Jayne felt relieved that the end of the hunt was so near.

Maybe then she'd finally find out what the big deal was about this gun, and everything could go back to normal.

* * *

Things were shaping up Dean decided, as the small hunting party rounded the back of the barn and got ready to break in. No one was fighting anymore, his father had agreed to talk about the gun once they finished with the vampires, and Jayne had even apologized to him, which was mind-blowing enough on its own. Now all they had to do was kill a barn full of vampires. Easy.

There was a large window above their heads, shuttered and latched. His father had climbed on top of a nearby bale of hay and was now poking his machete through the doors and gently lifting the latch. Once it was open, he caught the doors and held them so they wouldn't make any noise. Dean took hold of the doors, and then John hefted himself off the hay and in through the window.

The rest of them followed his example. Sam was the next one to jump through the window, clearing it easily due to his unnatural height. Dean watched from the ground as Jayne offered her equally unnaturally short sister a leg up. Lynn made the jump just barely, and Sam reached back through the window to help her clamber all the way in. Once Lynn was clear, Jayne hopped in after her.

Dean was the last one in, landing as quietly as possible, and then shutting and latching the door behind him. The barn was once again plunged into darkness.

They'd landed on another bale of hay inside. Dean watched his father hop down and then duck off through another set of doors. Sam took the opposite direction, wading into the main space where countless hammocks hung from the ceiling. As Dean's eyes adjusted to the dark, he had to swallow a gulp. The vampires slept in the hammocks, limbs hanging haphazardly over the sides. He eyed them untrustingly, expecting them to jolt awake at any given moment.

Lynn had followed Sam through the hammocks, and Dean found them on the other end of the barn, where another set of doors stood. Sam was hunched over a young woman who was tied to a large pole by the exit, fast asleep. Lynn had approached a set of gates nearby.

Dean glanced at Jayne, who had wandered off into the sea of hammocks, still close by their entry point. Then he headed off towards his brother and Lynn, curious about the gates. When he reached Lynn's side, his stomach dropped.

There were people behind the gates, lying limply on the floor. Most of them were unconscious, but the few who were awake had lolling heads and weak limbs. All of them were tied up and gagged. Dean exchanged a grim look with Lynn, who was examining the padlock. Behind them, Sam began freeing the woman tied to the pole.

Dean took it upon himself to bust out the victims behind the gates, but breaking that lock was noisy business. Immediately, a loud clang echoed through the barn.

Everyone froze. Sam stopped messing with the other victim's ropes and Lynn turned wide eyes on the hammocks. Dean followed her gaze and met Jayne's eyes on the other end of the barn. The vampires shifted around in their hammocks, but no one woke.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Dean returned to the gates. He heard rustling behind him as Sam too went back to freeing the unconscious woman.

"Hey," he heard Sam whispering, and assumed the woman was starting to wake up. "Hey, it's ok. I'm here to help you."

She responded by letting out a loud, inhuman scream, that somehow also sounded like a roar. The sound sent chills down Dean's spine. He whirled around, finding Sam already on his feet and backing away, reaching for his machete. The newly turned vampire half tied to the pole was still screaming. All around the room, the vampires were waking up and tumbling from their hammocks. He could hear growls and footsteps and breaking glass, and suddenly Dean had forgotten all about the victims in the cage and was operating on full blown panic mode.

"Run!" John Winchester's voice echoed from the other room. Dean glanced back briefly at the doorway, and then looked at Sam. His brother was already heeding orders and running for the exit, hauling Lynn along by her arm. Dean made to follow them, but stopped in his tracks when he heard the scream.

He whirled around and saw Jayne's machete go flying out of her hand. One of the vampires caught her around the waist and pinned her back against his chest. As Dean watched, horrified, the monster sank its fangs into her throat and began to bleed her dry.

The rest of the vampires were still chasing after the escaping hunters, and Dean knew he only had so much time to make his escape before they were on top of him, treating him to the same thing they'd done to Jayne, but he couldn't make his legs move in the direction of the door. He knew he needed to leave, and yet he couldn't.

It was suicide, Dean decided, his grip on the machete tightening. Marching headlong into a parade of pissed off vampires was complete and total suicide.

He didn't care.

Dean ran forward, blade swinging. The vampire charging him ducked, and Dean pushed on by, headed for the thing that had its fangs in Jayne's neck. It looked up as he approached and dropped her, darting out of the way of Dean's machete. Dean caught Jayne in his free arm, swinging around and backing towards the large shuttered window they'd entered through. Her eyelids were fluttering as she sagged limply against him, her legs buckling under her. "Jayne!" he barked, giving her a shake. She didn't respond.

The vampires were snarling and advancing on him, fangs bared, but Dean could barely see them. He was running on adrenaline, clutching Jayne against his chest as he dragged her up onto the bales of hay stacked under the window, his machete held out defensively in front of him. They were still coming, but he'd already reached the window. He sliced the machete through the latch and the doors swung open. Dean hugged Jayne to his chest and let himself fall to the ground below.

He landed on his back with a _thump_, knocking the air from his lungs. Jayne tumbled from his grasp, rolling down the shallow incline under the barn window. He rolled too, skidding to a stop in the dirt halfway down the hill. Groaning, he glanced back at the barn, but no vampires were running out into the sunlight. He looked to the bushes at the bottom of the hill, where Jayne had finally landed. She lay still, on her stomach, and Dean felt a lump lodge itself in his throat.

Dean rolled over, leaping onto his knees. "Jayne!" he bellowed, stumbling onto his feet. "Jayne!"

He ran into the brush, falling to his knees beside her prostrate form. He rolled her over onto her back, lifting her into his lap and cradling her to his chest. "Jayne!" he called again, tapping her face. "Jaynie, wake up!"

Nothing. No response. She didn't even twitch. He tried to be heartened by her still thumping pulse and the breath escaping her lips, but it was hard to feel hopeful when blood was spewing out her neck, dribbling through his fingers.

"Come on, Goldilocks," he said, still trying to rouse her. She remained still in his arms. "I need you to wake up! Jaynie!"

Dean felt a stinging sensation in his eyes as he stared down at Jayne's pale face, her head lolling limply in the crook of his elbow. "Jaynie?"

She didn't respond to the tiny, pathetic whisper. Dean kept staring at her, hugging her closer against his chest. He spared a look over his shoulder at the barn on the hill.

Never before had he felt so alone.


	56. Dead Man's Blood

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

AN: Big thanks yous to greentoothbrush, kazza03, SevenYearsLong, Lov3good, Alazensupernuke, tiaracove, angeleyenc, ColtFan165, ks90, BlueEyedPisces, K, Nelle07, ElizabethJohns, skm228, ThreeMoons, Penelope Halliwell, and Tiffily for all the reviews!

****READ ME** **Hello, my faithful readers! I'm getting a lot of questions about how many chapters are left and such, so I realized I needed to clear a few things up. Here's the deal about this fic: my goal is to eventually rewrite each season. It's a big time goal, but I'm doing my best to stick to it. Anyway, I debated long and hard whether it would be easier to smash all the seasons into one story (which, at this rate, would probably end up being three hundred some chapters long, if not more) or to break the story into volumes that are more or less based on the season format. I decided on volumes, because honestly? One three hundred chapter story felt sort of ridiculous. Volumes seemed more practical. _Who the Hell Are You_? will end with a rewrite of 2x01, because while I don't mind leaving the story _somewhat_ open-ended, I hated the idea of ending on a big cliff-hanger. This means you can expect roughly six to eight more chapters before the completion of volume one – and I hope with my entire heart that I can pull this off before the premiere. Like I said, don't be surprised if it takes a little bit longer, but I'm trying. Once this fic wraps up, I will post a second installment which will incorporate season 2, and so on. Sound good, everybody? Leave me your thoughts! And enjoy the update! ;)

* * *

Chapter 56: Dead Man's Blood

Lynn tore through the brush outside the vampires' barn, panting heavily as she struggled to keep up with Sam's long-legged strides. His hand was still firmly attached to her wrist and he was pulling her determinedly through the trees, trying to reach where they'd parked their getaway cars.

They stumbled to a stop beside the Impala, and Lynn slumped over, catching her breath. Sam turned in a circle, his eyes scanning the trees around them, looking frantic. "Where are they?" he exclaimed, panic in his voice.

Lynn looked around them too, feeling her throat close up. She took a deep, shaky breath and slowly exhaled, shaking her head. "I don't see them."

"Dad!" Sam bellowed. "Dean!"

"Jayne!" Lynn called.

Nothing. No one. Silence. And then, quite suddenly, Lynn heard a twig crack, and John appeared at the back bumper of his truck, running out of the woods. Sam breathed a sigh of relief, but Lynn didn't share in it. She still couldn't see Dean or Jayne.

"Don't worry; they won't follow," John announced, coming to a stop and catching his breath. "They'll wait until tonight. Once a vampire catches your scent, it's for life."

Lynn snorted. "And he says don't worry."

"Where are Dean and Jayne?" Sam demanded. Lynn turned expectant eyes on John, but his brow furrowed in concern.

"They didn't come back with you?"

Sam shook his head. Lynn swallowed down a sudden wave of nausea. "Oh, god," she whispered. "We have to go back."

John didn't say anything, but Sam nodded in agreement, straightening his shoulders and turning in the direction of the barn.

"Don't bother; we're right behind you," Dean's voice sounded from the trees, stopping everyone in their tracks.

Lynn turned at the sound of his voice in relief, only to have her heart plummet into her stomach moments later. Dean was striding out of the trees, looking mostly unharmed, but the sight of her sister made her eyes start stinging. Jayne was unconscious, her head lolling on Dean's shoulder as he carried her bridal style through the trees. He'd managed to wrap her in his jacket and was clutching her high on his chest, struggling to carry her while holding a handkerchief to her neck. The once white cloth was now saturated with bright red blood. Lynn gasped, shaking her head furiously. "Oh my god," she breathed. "Jaynie?"

"She'll make it," Dean assured her breathlessly, but she didn't believe him for a moment – mostly because he didn't look like he believed himself. "Sam, open the door."

Sam heeded his request, pulling open the back door on the Impala, and Lynn noted he was staring at Jayne too, looking shocked. Dean brushed past his brother, leaning into the car and lowering Jayne to the seat. "What happened?" Lynn demanded.

"What do you think happened?" Dean retorted. His abrasive, abrupt response stung, but Dean didn't seem to notice the effect his words had on her. He was too preoccupied with her sister. As Lynn watched, Dean dug the car keys from his pocket and tossed them at Sam. "You're driving."

"How bad is she?" John asked, and Lynn nearly slapped him. It was the tone of his voice that sent her blood boiling – the words were right, but the sound was wrong. He lacked concern, he lacked sympathy, he just plain lacked.

"Bad," Dean snapped, and Lynn wondered if he was pissed at his dad too.

"Hospital bad?"

Dean shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Good. Meet back at the motel."

John climbed into his truck and slammed the door. Lynn gawked after him, blinking furiously, too shocked to be fully enraged. _How dare he?_ She heard the engine of John's truck turn over, and shook her head, her fists clenching at her sides. So many things were rushing through her head… anger, fear, guilt…

She felt Dean forcing something into her hand. "You take the truck," he ordered.

"What?" She turned to him in shock, holding the keys loosely in her hand. "No! I can't just leave her! I'm not driving off in the truck without… she's my _sister_!"

"Yeah, and if you leave her truck in the middle of the woods, she'll kill you," Dean returned. "Don't worry; I'll take care of her."

She stared at the Impala. Sam was already in the driver's seat, and Dean was headed back for the car. When the back door slammed shut and the engine turned over, Lynn lost it.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she furiously stomped back to the truck, her mind racing and her vision red. She slammed the cab door behind her, adjusted the seat with a fierce jerk, and then started the engine up, wiping her eyes. Lynn glared through the windshield at the Impala's back bumper, following the car out of the woods and back towards the road.

"Son of a bitch," she spat, shaking her head and sniffling. How could they _do_ that? Take her sister and cast Lynn out in the woods, expecting her to take the truck and be fine with leaving her sister's fate to somebody else? Her hands were shaking on the wheel, rage and terror filling her up, confusing her actions and thoughts. She could fall apart right then, behind the wheel of that truck, if she let herself.

But she didn't let herself. Falling apart was not the way Lynn did things. She took a deep breath, trying to force the tears back and be strong. They had to get back to the motel and take care of Jayne. She had to pull it together for her sister.

A choked sob escaped her throat, and Lynn blinked back fresh tears. She wished they had never come out to Colorado, never took on this hunt… never teamed up with John Winchester.

In that moment, all she wanted to do was fix her sister, and then leave all three of the Winchesters behind.

* * *

It was a bumpy ride back to the motel, but Dean did his best to ignore the bumps and jolts and rattles, sitting in the back of the Impala and holding Jayne against his chest. He didn't have the first aid kit, and it was a bad road to drive while trying to stitch anyone up, so he tucked her into his lap and squeezed his handkerchief against her neck, trying to stem the blood flow. Her breathing was shallow and her head leaned limply against his shoulder. Dean swallowed, regretting not taking her to the hospital. He should tell Sam to change routes and take off for the nearest one, so they could have a doctor stitch her back up. Dean rearranged his jacket around her and held her closer to his chest, keeping her warm because the last thing they needed was her going into shock. Then he took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his nose against her hair.

She was going to be fine, he kept telling himself. She was Jayne freaking Gibson, and nothing could _really_ hurt her. She'd be _fine_.

Dean knocked his head back against the seat, hating himself.

Not long later, Sam steered the Impala into the motel parking lot, parking right in front of their room. His father's truck was already there and John was waiting on them. Lynn pulled into the spot beside their car. Dean waited until Sam had opened the back door and then clambered out of the vehicle, slinging Jayne across his chest and carrying her towards the motel.

He wasn't really sure what was going on with the other people in the lot. The only one he paid attention to was Sam, watching impatiently as his brother dug out the room keys and unlocked the door.

The door swung open and Dean marched in first, heading straight for the nearest bed. He laid her down on the mattress and Lynn appeared on the other side, first aid stuff in hand. Dean went into the bathroom and dampened a few towels, and then came back out and sat next to Jayne, watching as Lynn went about mopping up the blood and stitching her neck shut. Lynn's eyes were red and puffy, and her face was streaked with mascara, and Dean started to feel bad about shoving her towards the truck without a backward glance.

When she was done patching up her sister, Dean handed her one of the unused wet towels. She frowned at him, and Dean tapped his face.

With a small smile, Lynn disappeared into the bathroom to clean up. Dean swallowed, and looked back down at Jayne. Vaguely he could hear Sam and his father talking about the vampires and what their next move should be. Dean didn't give a shit. He was freaking out a little, his fingers twitching and his leg jerking around at the side of the bed.

"What's the significance of dead man's blood?" he heard Sam ask.

"It's like poison to a vampire," John replied. "Makes 'em sick, knocks 'em out. One of us has to find a funeral home and grab some."

He could feel his father's eyes on his back, and he tightened his fists, his shoulders tensing. Determinedly he kept his eyes on Jayne's face.

"I'll do it," Sam said hastily, and Dean's shoulders relaxed.

They talked a few minutes more, but Dean stopped paying attention. Lynn came out of the bathroom and leaned on the wall, her eyes darting from the bed to Sam and John. Eventually, Sam left the room, and Dean found himself alone with Lynn and his father.

Dean honestly didn't know what to do or what to say to either of them. Feeling awkward, he got up from the bed and paced a little, preoccupying himself with rolling up his shirt sleeves. Lynn watched him from her place by the bathroom, but his father didn't look at him. John sat down at the small table by the door and cracked out both his and Daniel Elkins' journals. He hunched over the papers scattered on the table, tapping his pen lightly against the notebook. Dean got tired of pacing and grabbed a chair from the table, carrying it over to Jayne's bed and plopping it down nearby. Then he sat down, leaned his elbow on the nightstand, and tried really hard not to stare.

It was creepy, watching other people sleep, but he couldn't help the way his eyes kept straying back to her. Her breathing had evened out, but she was still lying eerily still, and her skin was noticeably pale against the dark brown leather of his jacket. He wasn't used to seeing her this way. It made his chest tighten uncomfortably, and he felt for a moment like he couldn't breathe.

Swallowing hard, he tore his eyes away from her and looked at Lynn instead. She was still leaning on the wall, her arms folded over her chest, and staring at Jayne. Her dark eyes were burning, and Dean nearly flinched. She looked up at him and met his eyes and Dean felt a sudden sense of _blame_. She was angry, and she _blamed_ them – Dean, his father, maybe even Sam.

He looked away and stared at the carpet. She could blame him all she wanted, because if he was being totally honest, he blamed himself too. The rational part of him said he was being an idiot; that there was nothing he could have done to stop this from happening – but he felt like he was missing a piece of the puzzle, like there _was_ something he could have done and the fact that he couldn't figure it out made him a useless dick.

"What's the deal with that damn gun?" Lynn asked suddenly, her voice cracking through the silence.

Dean looked back up at her in surprise, but she wasn't looking at him. Her hard eyes were directed at his father. John glanced in her direction, and then returned to his papers. "We can discuss that later."

"We?" Lynn pushed, taking a step in John's direction. "We as in all of us? All _five_ of us? Or just you and your boys?"

Dean watched his father's hand tense around the pen. "Look… Lynn. Your father…"

"My father spent sixteen years of his life searching for the demon that killed my stepmother," Lynn cut him off. "And then he died. So my sister took over the hunt, trying to find the thing that killed her mother. The same thing that killed your wife."

John shook his head slowly. Lynn wasn't finished though. "The _only_ reason you would be so obsessed with this revolver is if it had something to do with that demon," Lynn said. "So you risked my sister's life to get it back. I hope you're _fucking_ happy."

Dean cleared his throat awkwardly and got to his feet. "Lynn," he said quietly.

"He _did_!" Lynn snapped. "You _know _that's exactly what he did! And the worst part is he won't even _tell_ us why the damn thing is so important! He wasn't _ever_ planning on telling us, were you John?"

Dean turned to stare at his father, who sighed harshly and ran a hand through his hair. John got to his feet, dropping his pen on the desk. "What was the plan?" Lynn demanded. "Grab the gun and disappear again? Leave everyone wondering where the hell you went _this _time? Were you _just_ going to cut me and my sister out, or did you not even plan on telling your kids?"

"You've got a lot of nerve," John said, and Dean was struck by the low, hard tone of his voice. "I don't know what's going on between you and my boys, but don't think a few weeks of traveling around with them makes you family."

Lynn scoffed, but John pressed on. "What goes on between me and them is family business. That gun is _family_ business."

"You _bastard_!" Lynn seethed, but Dean swooped in. He'd finally had enough.

"Nine months," he spoke up. John stared at him, and so did Lynn. "You bailed on me nine months ago, Dad. Sam and I met Lynn and Jayne nine months ago. We've been hunting together on and off for nine months, and we've been traveling together for almost two. It hasn't been a few weeks, it's been nine months. Maybe you don't think they're family, but they've been around for Sam and me a whole hell of a lot more than you have lately."

"Excuse me?" his father growled.

"You heard me," Dean snapped. "What's the deal with the gun, Dad?"

John gawked at him in silence, much to Dean's surprise. He'd expected to get his ass handed to him – if it had been Sam, that's exactly what his father would have done. But it wasn't Sam yelling at him, it was Dean – and Dean guessed his father just wasn't expecting that. He didn't know what to do.

"Give it up, Dean," Lynn spat. Her eyes were wet and shiny now. "He's not going to say a word. He just _doesn't _care."

She snatched her purse and the truck keys off the nightstand. "I'm going to get Jayne some food and stuff for when she wakes up," she announced, sniffling. Dean's hand twitched, as though it wanted to lay itself comfortingly on her shoulder. He fought the impulse. "Also, I just really need a fucking cigarette."

With that, she stomped out of the motel room and slammed the door shut behind her. Dean stared at the door, listening to the truck's engine turn over in the parking lot. Tires squealed as Lynn left the lot, and Dean shook his head, knowing that the more upset she got, the worse her driving would be. Lynn being on the road right now was a terrible idea.

It was too late to stop her though, and Dean turned to look at his father instead. John was still standing on the other side of the room, and Dean found it difficult to decipher his expression. "Well?" he asked after awhile. "Is she right? Do you not care? Are you not going to tell me anything?"

John sighed harshly. "Son…"

"I can't believe you!" Dean snapped, shaking his head. "My best friend is half dead right now, and all you care about is your goddamn crusade, and keeping us out of it! Well, that's not going to fly, Dad. Not anymore."

They stared at each other for a long time. John's look was dark, but Dean didn't back down. After several moments, John lowered his eyes.

"I'm only going to say it once," he said. "You'll have to wait for your brother to get back."

Then he gathered up his papers and marched out the motel room door.

For a long time, Dean stood in the motel room, staring at the door, not sure what had just happened or what to do with it all. Then, slowly, he sat back down in his chair by Jayne's bed, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion as he dragged his hand down his face.

"You really need to wake up," he told her.

Of course, she didn't. Sighing, Dean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He felt like an idiot, but he wasn't going to move from that chair until she finally opened her eyes.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon by now, and the sky overhead was gray and gloomy. Sam pulled Dean's car into the motel parking lot, the log-cabin style building looking dreary against the overcast backdrop, and darted his hand out to the right so the brown paper bag in the passenger seat wouldn't go tumbling onto the floor. In that bag was a mason jar full of dead man's blood from the local funeral home.

He parked the Impala by the room he was sharing with the other four hunters. Jayne's truck was missing from the lot, which he took to mean that Lynn had left for some reason. Heaving a sigh, he climbed out of the car, paper bag in hand, and slammed the door shut.

His father was sitting on a bench outside of the motel, a few doors down from their room. Sam frowned, stopping in his tracks. John was bent over a journal, a pen in his hand.

"Dad?" he asked, coming towards him. "What are you doing out here?"

"Escaping the Inquisition," John returned dryly, eyes still on the journal. Sam frowned again, coming to a stop in front of him.

"What does that mean?" Sam asked. John looked up at him, and Sam saw mild amusement in his father's eyes. "Did something happen?"

"Your brother's a little upset with me," John said. He looked back at the journal. "So is Russ's girl. The awake one."

"Lynn," Sam said in annoyance. John smirked. "Where did she go?"

"Food for her sister," John replied. "And cigarettes."

"She's smoking again?" John nodded, and Sam rolled his eyes. "Is Jayne…?"

"Still out as far as I know."

Silence. Sam stared at his father. "You got the blood," John observed.

He nodded, holding up the bag. "Yeah."

John eyed the bag, and Sam stood there awkwardly, his gaze darting towards the motel room door. Sam made a small step in the direction of the motel room. He was still annoyed at his father and he wasn't really in the mood to stand out here with him.

"Sammy," his father said suddenly.

Sam turned back to him, frowning in surprise. "What?"

"I don't think I ever told you this," John said, smirking a little. "But… the day you were born, do you know what I did?"

This had to be, hands down, the weirdest moment he'd ever had with his father. "No," Sam replied, still frowning.

"I put a hundred bucks into a savings account for you. I did the same thing for your brother." John took a breath and looked down at his lap. Sam watched him carefully as he played with his pen, and then he looked back up at him, explaining, "It was a college fund. Every month I'd put in another hundred dollars. Until…"

He trailed off, dropping his eyes again. Sam couldn't stop staring at his father. It was like the man in front of him was an entirely different person. "Anyway. The point is, Sam, this is never the life that I wanted for you."

Sam took a moment to absorb that, studying the cracked pavement under his feet. He tilted his chin up, looking his father in the eye. "Then why did you get so mad when I left?"

John wouldn't look at him. His eyes were on the bumper of his truck but he looked distant, as though he wasn't seeing it; he was seeing someplace many miles away. "You got to understand something," he said. "After your mother passed, all I saw was evil, everywhere. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you prepared. Ready. Just… somewhere along the line I, uh… I stopped being your father and I became your drill sergeant."

He paused. Sam stared at him expectantly. "So when you said that you wanted to go away to school," John went on. "All I could think about – my only thought was that you were going to be alone. Vulnerable. Sammy, I just – it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn't accept the fact that you and me – we're just different."

Sam's eyes were stinging. He laughed out loud, trying not to let the tears overcome him. "What?" John asked, a small smile spreading on his face.

He shook his head, taking a seat on the bench beside his father. "We're not different," he replied. "Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess…" He shook his head again, and another mirthless laugh escaped his lips. "Well, we probably have more in common than just about anyone."

John stared at him. Sam glanced his way and then looked back down at the ground. "I guess you're right, son," John murmured.

There was a moment of quiet as Sam stared at the ground and John stared at him. "Hey, Dad," Sam said, looking back up at him. "Whatever happened to that college fund?"

"I spent it on ammo," John replied, straight-faced.

Sam laughed out loud again. John started laughing too. For a brief moment, Sam felt like he wasn't at odds with his father – like they'd accomplished some sort of bond. It couldn't put to rest years of arguing and animosity, but it was a start.

At that moment, tires squealed in the parking lot. Sam looked up and saw Lynn wheel Jayne's truck roughly into a parking space. There was a loud squeak as she braked and shifted into park.

John's smile faded and he leveled hard eyes at the truck. "I'm going to go talk to your brother," he said. "Now that we're all here, I think it's time we talked about that gun."

Sam stared at him in surprise, hardly believing that his father was starting to come around to Sam's preferred way of doing things. John got to his feet and headed for the motel room. He didn't follow his father, though. Lynn was climbing down from the truck cab now, and by the look on her face, he decided she could use a little pep talk.

He approached her softly, his eyes taking in the smudged mascara and bright red eyes and the tear tracks that were streaking her face. Both Lynn and the truck reeked like cigarette smoke and as he drew nearer, he watched her drop a cigarette butt on the asphalt and stub it out with her boot.

"Hey," he said, stopping beside her. "You all right?"

"Do I look all right?" she snapped, jerking her hand in his direction. A plastic bag jiggled from her fist.

Sam dug a tissue out of his pocket and offered it to her. She stared at it, the angry look on her face fading, and slowly took the tissue from his hand. "Thanks," she whispered, sounding slightly sheepish as she dabbed at her face. "Sorry I snapped."

He nodded. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he told her, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I mean… your sister doesn't really seem to go down easy. She'll be awake and yelling at everyone in no time."

Lynn sighed, sagging against the truck and tilting her head back, staring at the cloudy gray sky. "I know. I mean, I think I know. God, I hate this."

Silence followed her statement. Sam stared at her, wishing he could understand what was in him that wanted to comfort her so badly. He didn't really know how to go about doing it, either. Their brief stint as friends-with-benefits had really fucked up the dynamic of their friendship. A couple weeks ago, this talk would have gone a completely different way.

Lynn sniffed and wiped her eye. "Ok, I'm done having my breakdown," she announced. "Let's go inside."

"My Dad's going to tell us about the gun," Sam offered brightly.

She blinked, looking astonished. "Seriously?" Sam nodded in reply. "All of us?" she pressed.

"Yeah, all of us," Sam replied, frowning. "Why?"

"Uh…" Lynn trailed off, looking sheepish again. "I just… I kind of thought he didn't want to share that information with, you know… non-family."

It was a reasonable conclusion, and honestly Sam was surprised his father had decided to tell them everything too. "I guess something changed his mind," he said, shrugging.

Lynn looked him in the eye, and then glanced back at the motel room. "I wonder what could have done that," she muttered.

Sam looked at the motel too, sensing that Lynn already had some idea about that. "I don't know," he replied.

His father had argued with Dean, he remembered John saying. It was weird, because Dean never argued with his father. It had to have been Dean, Sam decided. Never in a million years would Sam have seen that coming.

The motel room door swung open and John stepped out, heading back to his bench. Sam watched as his father gathered his journals, and then he looked back at Lynn. "You sure you're all right?"

She nodded. "I'll be fine."

"Inside, then?"

Again, she nodded. He turned towards the motel, and Lynn fell into step beside him. As fucked as this whole thing was, Sam couldn't help the thrill of anticipation that flooded him as they headed for the room. John was going to tell them about the gun. Sam was positive the gun was connected in some way to the demon. And nothing got his blood pumping like thinking about that demon.

Maybe his father would help get Jessica her revenge after all.

* * *

Jayne blinked awake slowly, trying to drag herself from the heavy, foggy pain in her skull. The room was a little too bright, and it hurt her already burning eyes. Her whole body was sore, particularly her neck. She tried to reach up and rub the sore spot, but her arm felt like it was made of lead. Confused, she felt the bed around her, noticing the familiar leather jacket covering her shoulders.

"Jaynie?"

Still blinking, Jayne turned her head in the direction of the voice. "Dean?" she asked. Her voice came out weak and high – almost like a whimper. She winced at the pathetic sound.

"Yeah," he whispered hoarsely. She felt the mattress sag as he sat down next to her on the edge of the bed. Jayne blinked at him, trying to focus on his face. Dean smiled at her, but it was a strange smile – all trembling and such. She frowned. He reached out towards her face, brushing his fingers through her hair. Jayne relaxed slightly, swallowing. Her throat was dry. "Welcome back," he smirked at her.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"The motel," he replied, still running his fingers through her hair. "You all right?"

Jayne squinted at him. He was watching her with anxious eyes, and trying to hide his anxiety behind his usual smirk. The memory of the vampire nest came rushing back to her – the screaming, the sharp, razor-like teeth in her throat, Dean across the barn. It hit her with such force that she was nearly knocked breathless as she realized exactly what he must have done.

"I'm supposed to be dead," she announced, her tone accusing.

"You? Dead?" he smirked again, winking at her. "Not on my watch, Goldilocks."

Her frown deepened. She tried to sit up, but her arms gave out immediately. Dean barely managed to catch her, lowering her gently back to the mattress. "Whoa," he said. "Take it easy."

Jayne ignored the command and tried to sit up again. Dean pushed her back down, his hands firm but gentle on her shoulders. "Just lay down, will you?" he reprimanded, starting to sound exasperated. "You lost a lot of blood."

"You went back for me," she accused him.

Dean looked away, his shoulders tensing, and breathed a tiny, irritated sigh. "What the hell, Dean?" she demanded, ignoring his reaction.

"Let me guess," he drawled. "You're pissed at me."

"Of course I'm pissed at you!"

"Well, I guess _you're_ ok."

"That was suicide at best," she snapped. "Rushing back in there, with all the vampires awake and pissed off… how could you _do_ that?"

He looked her straight in the eye with an angry intensity that made her flinch. "How could I _not_?"

There was a long silence. Jayne stared at him, and he stared back. She swallowed, having no retort. Slowly, she attempted to sit up again. This time, he reached out and took her by the waist, helping her lean against the headboard as his jacket slid down off her and onto the bed.

"You all right?" he asked again. His hands hadn't left her waist, and there was something in the way he was looking at her that left Jayne feeling unsure and a little breathless. She nodded, swallowing again, too hard. Dean's eyes travelled the course of her face, resting on her eyes, and then on her lips. Jayne stared back, and he abruptly looked away and got to his feet.

It stung a little when he turned his back on her. She watched him cross the room and head to the sink. He filled a glass with water and then returned to her bedside, handing her the glass and sitting down again.

The sting faded. She took the glass and drank heavily. When she was done, he took it from her and set it on the nightstand. "Lynn went out to get you juice and food and stuff," he announced. He wouldn't look at her, and Jayne hated that.

"Sounds good," she whispered.

Silence.

"Thank you," she said suddenly.

Dean looked up at her in surprise. She barely met his eyes. He nodded once, frowning. There was a short pause, and then he took a deep, steadying breath. "You kind of scared me back there," he told her.

Jayne stared at him. He didn't look at her. "Sorry," she murmured.

He turned his head and stared her straight in the eye. She swallowed again. Her chest throbbed, and she couldn't quite catch her breath. Neither could she look away from Dean. He was already sitting too close, and then he leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His eyes were boring into hers and her tongue darted out to wet her lips, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

It was a slow, steady kind of kiss that started out gentle and hesitant, and then gained powerful momentum, turning hard and furious and full of desperation. Dean cupped the side of her face in one hand, his lips pressing harder against her mouth, and Jayne crumbled under the strength of his kiss, feeling weak and lightheaded from the blood loss – and yes, maybe a little from all the things he was doing to her. Dean wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest, holding her up and deepening the kiss. She whimpered against his mouth, clutching at his neck for balance. He jerked back, brows furrowed as his eyes swept her face, and then he leaned his forehead on hers. "All right?" he asked gruffly.

She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut as she clung to him. Dean pulled her even closer, hugging her tightly against him, and she buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling his scent, her lips still tingling.

The door swung open and hit the wall with a bang. Jayne jumped and Dean looked up abruptly, but didn't let her go – probably because he didn't want her to fall. She cringed before hesitantly raising her head to see who had caught them.

John stood in the doorway, looking torn between embarrassment and amusement. He cleared his throat awkwardly, and then gave them a nod. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Yes, sir," Dean replied evenly, giving him a short nod back.

Jayne turned to stare at Dean in surprise. John looked like he was fighting the urge to chuckle. "All right then," he said. "Your brother's back with the blood, and Lynn just pulled into the parking lot. Whenever you two are done…"

He trailed off, shook his head, and then stepped back outside, shutting the door gently behind him.

Jayne laughed. She couldn't help it. It was hilarious. John Winchester had just caught her _cuddling_ with his son. Dean started in surprise, turning to stare at her as she snickered, and then he started to chuckle too. She made the mistake of looking him in the eye, and her laughter slowly died, the smile fading from her face.

"Maybe you should let me go," she said hesitantly.

Dean raised an eyebrow. Then he nodded once and disentangled himself from her, helping her lean against the headboard so she didn't bang her back. No sooner had he climbed off the bed and started for the other side of the room, but the door swung open again.

Lynn marched inside, a plastic bag hanging off her arm, and practically ran for the bed. The mattress shook as she dropped her bag on the comforter and plopped down beside Jayne, throwing her arms around her shoulders. "You're awake!" she exclaimed, squeezing her tightly.

"Yep," Jayne drawled. "Wide awake. Kind of sore. Could you get off me?"

Lynn jerked back without letting go and glared at her. Jayne smirked. "You almost died," Lynn informed her. "I get to hug you when you almost die."

Jayne rolled her eyes and heaved a mock-sigh. "Oh, all right."

Lynn hugged her tighter again, and then finally let go, sitting back on the bed. "Are you ok?" she asked.

"Fine," Jayne nodded.

"I got you food and juice. Here, take them."

Lynn began pulling things out of the bag and handing them to her. Jayne twisted off the top of the juice bottle and took a swig. Before Lynn could say anything else – or hand her anything else, for that matter – Sam and John entered the room.

"Get it?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, holding up a brown paper bag. "Dead man's blood."

Apparently, she'd missed a lot while she'd been unconscious, Jayne noted. She wondered who had suggested grabbing the vampire poison – Lynn, or John.

Whatever had happened earlier, Jayne could feel she'd missed out on more than just the plan to kill the vampires. The atmosphere in the room was tense and awkward. She was tempted to ask what the hell happened, but if she were being totally honest – which, if anyone asked, she wouldn't be – she didn't think her nerves could handle a shouting match.

John cleared his throat, and scratched the back of his neck. Sam took a seat at the table, watching his father expectantly. Dean stood at the foot of her bed, staring his father down. He looked oddly confrontational, with his arms folded across his chest and his eyes hard.

"So, I guess you all want to hear about this gun," John said, delivering what had to be the understatement of the year.

Her sister snorted. Jayne raised her eyebrow, and Sam replied, "Yes, sir."

His tone was surprisingly calm, leaving Jayne to wonder exactly how much she _did_ miss. John looked uncomfortable, and she could see him shifting around, searching for words. "It's just a story," he told them. "A legend… well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter."

Jayne felt the bed dip as her sister shifted positions. Dean backed up and took his seat in a chair by her bedside. "Back in 1835, when Haley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun," John began. "A special gun. He made it for a hunter – a man like us, only on horseback. The story goes, he made thirteen bullets. This hunter used the gun half a dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him – until somehow Daniel got his hands on it."

She felt like she was sitting around a campfire in the woods, and John Winchester was a camp counselor, telling them all a spooky ghost story with a flashlight under his chin. It was that ridiculous. Still, John pressed on, and everyone listened in silence. "They say," John said, tucking his chin as his voice caught slightly. "They say this gun can kill anything."

Jayne felt like she was falling and her stomach had leapt into her throat. She swallowed hard, staring at John. "Kill anything like supernatural anything?" Dean asked hoarsely.

"Like the demon," Sam added, and Jayne could see his eyes were wet. Her grip on her juice tightened, and she blinked slowly, trying to absorb the enormous impact this little legend could have on her life.

"Yeah," John agreed with his son. "Like the demon."

An entire lifetime spent hunting that thing, and it all came down to John Winchester and his tall tales about special guns. Jayne swallowed again, taking a deep, shaky breath. Russ had hunted that thing until his death, and she'd picked up right where he left off, determined to avenge her mother and finish what Russ had started. She'd owed it to him. Still, since she'd discovered she was hunting a demon, she'd anticipated a showdown that culminated in an exorcism, not a shootout. The idea that there was a way to actually _kill_ the thing sent a bolt of electricity through her body, leaving a hollow hungry feeling in her gut.

"Ever since I picked up its trail, I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing," John announced. "Find the gun; we may have it."

No one spoke for a very long time. Jayne sat still on her bed, running her tongue over her teeth. If they got their hands on that gun, they could actually _kill_ the demon. It was making her hands itch with anticipation. Still, her stomach twisted, nausea taking hold at the realization that the gun and all its glory would have to be _shared_. For the first time in a long time, the hunt did not feel like it was _their_ hunt… it did not feel like she and Lynn and the Winchesters were a team… it felt like the hunt and the kill should belong to _her_. To her and Lynn alone. She tried not to think that way, but the feeling wouldn't fade. Jayne studied John Winchester hard, and saw that even though the boys might still be on her side, she was going to have to pry that gun from John's cold dead hands.

John Winchester, she realized, was in her way.

"So, here's the plan," John broke the silence, and Jayne found herself glaring at him again. "We bait 'em, and we hit 'em with arrows soaked in dead man's blood. Only a few will come after us at first, but we grab the right one and we can make an exchange – girl for the gun."

"Girl?" Lynn asked.

John nodded. "Leader of the pack has a mate. We get our hands on her; he'll do anything to get her back."

"Sounds like a plan," Dean said. Then he turned and pointed a warning finger at Jayne. She frowned at him. "You're staying here," he informed her.

Jayne cocked her eyebrow, sneering at him. "Thanks, Doc," she retorted. "You know, even I can figure out when I'm not fit for vampire slaying."

"News to me," he smirked.

"She's not staying," John spoke up. Everyone turned to stare at him. "We're packing up and checking out. The second we've got the gun, we leave town."

"_What?_" Dean exploded. Jayne raised her eyebrow again, her eyes flicking from Dean to his father in concern. She did _not_ want the two of them fighting about _her_ of all subjects. "You're kidding me, right? She can barely sit up!"

"I told you once a vampire catches your scent, it's for life," John thundered back. "If there is _anyone_ left in this motel, they _will_ come here."

Dean opened his mouth to yell some more, and then stopped. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Jayne watched, amused in spite of herself, at the way his breath huffed out in short, exasperated puffs as he looked from her and back to his father. "I…" he tried. "I… but… she... you…"

"Look, boys, it's nice everyone's so worried about me," Jayne swooped in. "And by nice, I mean annoying."

"Jayne," Lynn admonished her softly. Jayne ignored her.

"I'd like it if we could get this show on the road with minimal bickering," she went on. "So if my best option is to ride along with the rest of you, I'll ride along. Ok? Just don't expect anything fantastic out of me. I'm not exactly the Six Million Dollar Man right now."

She _hated_ admitting that. It was _embarrassing_, but it was also true. Jayne was stubborn and tended to push herself too hard, but she was also getting dizzy just moving her head around. She knew when she'd been beat – well, sometimes she knew.

"Then we're agreed," John said with a quick nod in her direction. "Pack up and get moving."

He disappeared outside again, and Jayne had to wonder exactly where he kept going. Lynn and Sam heeded his orders, gathering up their bags and stuffing the few items they'd unpacked back inside. Dean stood still at the end of her bed, staring at the door, still looking thunderstruck.

He slowly turned to look at her, and she smiled brightly at him. "Are you ok?" she asked innocently.

"Let me ask you _one_ thing," he said. "Why is it when I _want_ to get along with my father, you're picking a fight with him – and when I'm _arguing_ with him, _that's_ when you take his side?"

Jayne snorted. "Is that a serious question?"

Dean rolled his eyes and marched off to pack his bag, muttering under his breath. She smiled slightly, shaking her head, and then took another swig of her juice. Setting the bottle on the nightstand, she slowly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and glanced around the room for her duffel.

"Do _not_ get up," Lynn snapped from the other side of the room. "_I_ will get your stuff. Just eat the food I bought you."

Jayne sighed, but did as ordered. This was getting old fast. "I'll have you know I'm not an invalid."

"You are _so_ an invalid," Lynn retorted. "Get up, I dare you. I'll hang pink fuzzy dice on Janis's rearview mirror."

"You wouldn't!" Jayne gasped.

"Try me."

With a heavy sigh, Jayne swung her legs back up on the bed and leaned against the headboard. "Fine," she grumbled.

It didn't take them long to get their things together. John came in and out a few times, gathering up his papers and things, and then ordered them to hurry up before marching outside for good.

Lynn snatched up her duffel, and so did Sam. They headed outside. Dean snatched his jacket from her bed and put it back on, and then he grabbed his duffel as well as Jayne's and marched for the door. "Don't move," he ordered over his shoulder. "I'll be right back."

She snorted. He left the room and she took a few minutes to finish her food. Then she brushed off her hands and once again swung her legs over the side of the bed. Slowly, she pushed herself up onto her feet, and managed to stand all the way up without falling. Still, her legs felt wobbly and her vision blurred. Taking a deep breath, she took a hesitant step forward. The movement went straight to her head and she promptly crumpled to the floor.

"Damn it," she muttered, blinking to regain her focus. She cupped her aching head in her hand, and slumped back against the bed.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean suddenly bellowed from the doorway. Jayne rolled her eyes. "I told you not to move!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she grumbled, reaching out and grabbing the side of the bed. "And I didn't listen. What else is new?"

She tried pulling herself to her feet, but Dean suddenly appeared in front of her and took her by the arms, pulling her off the ground and plopping her back on the bed. He kept his hands on her shoulders, holding her steady as she waited for her vision to clear. "You're an idiot," he told her.

"Shut up."

Suddenly, she was off the bed and in his arms. Jayne shoved his shoulder, but he barely flinched. "Put me down!"

"Not going to happen."

He stubbornly marched towards the door, still carrying her. Jayne gaped at him. "Dean, I swear if you don't…"

"I'm carrying you. Deal with it, Goldilocks."

Jayne clenched her fists, glaring at him, but Dean didn't look the least bit intimidated. He carried her all the way out to the parking lot and then tucked her in the passenger seat of her truck like she was a small child. The moment she was seated, she reached out and slugged him in the arm.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot. "What the hell was that for?"

"I told you to put me down."

"You're welcome."

Jayne huffed. "Whatever."

He stood outside the truck a moment, his hand on the door, staring at her. Jayne swallowed, feeling all of a sudden like they were back in the motel room, just the two of them. Once again, she felt odd, unsure… almost fluttery.

The driver's side door swung open and Lynn hopped into the truck. Dean tore his eyes away, and Jayne felt whatever had been between them vanish. "Don't do anything stupid," he ordered. Then he slammed the door shut.

Jayne watched him saunter off towards his car. Lynn started the truck and sighed. "I swear, John better be right about all this. If you get hurt again, I'll lop _his_ head off instead of the vampires."

She snorted. "Right, Lynn. Thanks."

Something had happened in that motel room, she realized. What it was, she couldn't be sure, but it had happened. It was impossible to shake the fluttery feeling in her stomach.

* * *

Dean hated playing bait.

He stood alone in the dark, out in the middle of the woods on a dirt back road, bent over the engine block of his Impala. The woods were too quiet, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up straight. He felt exposed, and knowing Sam, Lynn and his father were positioned all around him, armed with crossbows and dead man's blood did very little to make him feel protected.

Lynn better be keeping an eye on her sister, he thought in annoyance, pretending to fiddle with his engine. It was bad enough that Jayne was out here in the first place, hunkered down in her truck, despite her condition. If his father hadn't made that compelling argument about the vampires sniffing her out at the motel, he'd have made her to stay behind. As it was, nothing was going his way today.

"Car trouble?"

Dean swiveled at the woman's voice behind him, finding himself face-to-face with an auburn-haired woman in ripped up clothes that had to be as old as his cassette collection. She sauntered towards him, smirking. "I can give you a lift," she offered. "Take you back to my place."

He smirked back. "I'll pass. I usually draw the line at necrophilia."

"Ooh."

The next thing Dean knew, her fist had propelled itself into his jaw with all the force of an eighteen-wheeler. He toppled over, landing next to the front bumper of his car, grimacing with pain. The vampire grabbed him around the chin in one hand and lifted him off his feet. Flinching, Dean looked from her to the large, dark-skinned vampire behind her, smirking at Dean's predicament. He wrapped his hand around her wrist, but the vampire didn't notice.

"Well, I don't normally get this friendly until the second date," Dean quipped.

"You know, we could have some fun," she said, although her voice promised no fun at all. "I just love making new friends."

She lowered him back to his feet, her hand still squeezing his jaw, and pulled him in for a kiss. Dean grimaced as her lips pressed against his, not bothering to struggle against her vice-like grip. She pulled back, and he made a face. "Sorry, I don't really stay with a chick that long – definitely not eternity."

That's when he heard the release of the crossbow. One arrow plunged through the large vampire lurking behind the woman. The second arrow pierced the woman's chest. She released him and Dean stumbled back, rubbing his jaw and gasping for breath.

"Damn it," the vampire rolled her eyes. She turned around and Dean looked up to see Sam, Lynn and his father marching out of the trees. "Barely even stings," she informed them.

"Give it time, sweetheart," John retorted. "That arrow's soaked in dead man's blood. It's like poison to you, isn't it?"

For a moment, the vampire stood still and said nothing, glaring at John. Then her knees gave out and she slumped to the side. Dean caught her as her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her companion fell to his knees, equally immobilized, still glowering at the hunters.

"Load her up," John ordered. "I'll take care of this one."

Dean did as commanded, carrying the vampire off to his dad's truck. Sam and Lynn followed him.

From behind him, he could hear the slice of his father's machete as it swung through the other vampire's neck, and the thump as its head hit the forest floor.

* * *

Lynn poked a stick into the campfire she'd help Sam set near their vehicles. The vampire they'd captured was tied up and leaning against a tree on the other side of the fire. On her right, John and Sam were gathering things out of the bed of John's truck. Jayne had taken the opportunity to climb out of Janis' cab. Now she was leaning on the side of her vehicle, watching everyone like a hawk.

She looked over her shoulder at her older sister, raising her eyebrow. The panic from earlier in the day had subsided now that Jayne was awake and standing and being her usual annoying self. For a moment, back in the woods, back at the motel, Lynn had been genuinely afraid that her sister wasn't waking up.

"What the hell are you doing out of the truck?" she heard Dean gripe at her sister.

Jayne snorted. "Chill. I can stand, you know. And the only vampire out in these woods is tied to that tree over there."

She let their bickering wash over her, tuning them out. They continued to argue, but she quit listening.

"Toss this on the fire," she heard John say to Sam. "Saffron, skunk cabbage and trillium. It'll block our scent and hers until we're ready."

Sam appeared beside her and tossed a large bowl of something onto the flames. She coughed as the stinky smoke hit her nostrils. "Ew," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Holy crap, that _reeks_."

"That's the idea," John retorted. Lynn raised an eyebrow at him, but he didn't look her way. "Everyone dust your clothes with the ashes, and you might stand a chance of not being detected."

"Are you sure they'll come after her?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," John replied. "Vampires mate for life. She means more to the leader than the gun. But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so we don't have a lot of time."

He gave Sam a meaningful look that Lynn had no problem deciphering. The basics of the plan had been laid out already – John would take the vampire and draw the leader away, while the rest of them cleaned out the nest. "Half hour ought to do it," Sam said.

"And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can be," John added.

Sam frowned, shaking his head. "Wait, what?"

"You're going to do the trade by yourself?" Lynn asked incredulously.

"What?" Dean's voice sounded behind them. Lynn turned to see him heading over to their group, Jayne on his heels. "Dad, you can't take them all on alone."

"I'll have her," John returned, nodding at the vampire by the fire. "And the Colt."

Lynn frowned, shaking her head. No matter what John said, this did not seem like a good idea. One man with one hostage and a gun he didn't even have yet was not going to stand up to multiple pissed off vampires.

"But after," Sam said, looking John dead in the eye. "We'll meet up, right?" John looked away at the question, but Sam didn't take his eyes off his father. "Use the gun together, right?" he pressed, but still his father said nothing.

"Oh, I get it," Jayne spat, and Lynn whirled around to stare at her. Jayne pushed past her, walking on wobbly legs, and stopped in front of John. She drew herself up to her full height, glowering at the older hunter. "You think you're going to take that gun and run with it. Cut us all out of the action."

"Unbelievable," Sam snorted, shaking his head. "You _still_ want to go after the thing alone."

"Not a chance in hell," Jayne added, still glowering at John. "I've waited my whole life to put that thing down, and you aren't taking that away from me."

Lynn swallowed at her sister's tone, stepping forward and taking her arm. "Jayne…"

"No, she's right," Sam interrupted, stepping up too. "You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this."

"Like what?" John retorted.

"Like children."

"You _are_ my children," John snapped. "I'm trying to keep you safe."

"You may be doing just that," Jayne returned. "For _them_. But that excuse isn't going to fly with me. You're trying to cut us out."

"What are you going to do about it?" John asked, his patience wearing thin. Lynn tightened her arm protectively around her sister's arm, but Jayne didn't seem to need her help.

"Right now?" Jayne shrugged. "Probably nothing. But don't think you can run from me, John. You get your hands on that gun – which, in all probability, you won't because you're insisting on pulling off the trade solo, so you'll probably just end up dead – but let's say you pull this off and get the Colt? There will be nowhere on this Earth you can hide from me. I will hunt you down and I will take that gun from you if I have to. You are _not_ going to dangle some legend about a demon-killing gun in my face and then snatch it back from me."

Lynn swallowed because her sister's words were completely confrontational, and John looked pissed. Stepping forward and subtly angling herself in front of her sister, she tilted her chin towards the sky and looked John in the eye. "I'm with her," she announced. "Look, we all have the same goal here, so doesn't it make more sense to work together instead of against each other? Don't you have demons enough chasing you? Do you really want to have to look over your shoulder for us too?"

John's lips twitched into a semi-amused, slightly irritated smirk. He raised his eyebrow. "No offense, ladies… but if I can shake an angry demon off my tail, I'm pretty damn sure I can shake you too."

"Dad, this is stupid," Sam said bluntly.

"I'm trying to protect you, Sammy," John retorted. "Why can't you see that?"

"All due respect, Dad, but that's a bunch of crap."

It was Dean who had spoken, and Lynn couldn't stop herself from whirling around and gaping at him in shock. The entire hunt had been spent with John barking orders, Sam and Jayne snapping back, and Dean trying to keep the peace. Not once had he sided against his dad – not until after Jayne had been bitten in the vampire nest – and since Jayne was fine now, she'd expected him to fall into line again. Instead, he was calling his father out.

Sam was gawking at him too, and Jayne looked at him over her shoulder, wearing a confused frown. John was so taken aback that Lynn nearly laughed at the expression on his face. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"You know what Sammy and I have been hunting," Dean retorted. "Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe."

"It's not the same thing, Dean."

"Then what is it?" Dean demanded. "Why do you want us out of the big fight?"

"This demon… it's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping the two of you alive."

"Fine," Jayne snapped. "Sideline them. But you don't have to pull that crap with me, or my sister. You don't give a damn about us, so stop trying to screw us!"

"Jayne," Lynn admonished, smacking her arm.

"Nobody's sidelining anybody," Dean barked, stepping up beside Jayne. "You think I don't know what you're _really _trying to say, Dad? You can't make the same moves? You mean you can't be as reckless!"

There was a brief silence. John shook his head, not making eye contact with either of his sons. "Look," he admitted. "I don't expect to make it out of this fight in once piece."

Lynn tightened her hand on Jayne's arm again, starting to feel like an intruder on a private family scene. She wanted to head back towards the truck, but Jayne wasn't moving. "Your mother's death – it almost killed me," John went on, and Lynn blinked as her eyes started to sting, wishing she wasn't interloping on this conversation. She took a step to the side, removing herself from the middle of the altercation, letting John and his boys continue their confrontation semi-alone. To her surprise, Jayne let herself be tugged off to the side. "I can't watch my children die too," John continued. "I won't."

"What happens if you die?" Dean retorted. "Dad, what happens if you die and we could have done something about it? You know, I've been thinking and… and I think maybe Sammy's right about this one. We should do this together. We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are, and you know it."

They shouldn't be there, Lynn fretted, shaking her head. She and Jayne did not belong there; they should not be witnessing this exchange. Even distancing themselves like they had, removing to the sidelines and watching without tossing their two cents in – it was still wrong. They _were_ a family, and she and Jayne were not a part of it. They shouldn't be there. Lynn blinked, fixing her eyes on the forest floor.

"We're running out of time," John said, ending the conversation. "You do your job and you get out of the area."

Both Sam and Dean fixed their father with stony glares. John didn't back down. "That's an order," he snapped. Then he marched off towards the vampire woman, and the rest of the hunters were left to stare at his back.

Jayne cussed under her breath, glowering at John as he grabbed the hostage and marched towards his truck. "We can't let this happen, Lynn," she hissed, and Lynn was struck by the sudden desperation in her sister's voice. "We cannot let that man walk out of here with that gun. We _need_ that gun."

"Jaynie," she whispered, shaking her head. "Look, I don't like it either, but we don't _need_ anything from him. If we're going to take that thing on, then maybe…"

"I can't do it, Lynn," Jayne interrupted. "I can't. Ever since he told us about that gun, it's all I can think about, and I can't… he is not getting away with this."

"Relax, Goldilocks," Dean spoke up, and Lynn looked guiltily in his direction as she realized the brothers could hear every word they were saying. "My Dad's not going anywhere without us. I've got a plan."

Jayne did not look appeased, but she fell silent. Sam shook his head, still looking furious, and started loading up the Impala again. John's truck engine had already started, and as Lynn led Jayne back towards Janis, John steered his vehicle out of the brush and towards the road.

Lynn left her sister on the passenger side of the truck, and then headed around to the driver's seat. She opened the door as Jayne opened hers, but neither one of them got in. Dean chose that moment to corner her sister, and Lynn froze beside the truck, listening in on every word.

"Did you mean what you said?" he demanded.

Jayne just stared at him. "When you told my Dad to sideline us?" Dean pressed angrily. "Leave my brother and me out of it and work out a deal with you?"

Lynn worried her lower lip with her teeth as Dean bent over her sister, grabbing her by the arms. "Would you have really done that?" he barked.

"I want that demon dead, Dean," Jayne replied in a low voice, lifting her head to stare evenly into his eyes. "And I need to be there when it dies."

Dean glared at her. There was long, pregnant silence as the two stared each other down. "She didn't mean it," Lynn spoke up, and both of them whirled around to stare at her in surprise. "Really, she didn't. She knew your dad wouldn't go for it. And if he had… we would have cut you in. You know that, Dean."

He snorted, letting go of Jayne's arms, and turned his back abruptly on both of them. Jayne stared after him as he marched back towards the Impala where Sam was waiting. Lynn shook her head and climbed into the truck. After a moment, Jayne climbed in too, and stared stonily out the windshield.

Lynn waited until they were on the road, following the Impala back to the barn where the vampires had nested. Then she asked the question.

"You didn't mean it right?"

Jayne shrugged. "Don't do that," Lynn snapped. "I know you didn't mean it."

"I didn't mean it," she repeated in a whisper, still not looking at Lynn.

There was silence again. Lynn shook her head, staring at the road. "Jaynie, you're scaring me a little."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." The words sounded hollow, and Lynn felt no better about the whole situation. "It's just… we _need_ that gun, Lynn. We need to _kill_ that demon."

Lynn didn't reply. The two of them sat through another long silence.

"You got to admit, that's the way Russ would have wanted it," Jayne spoke up suddenly. "You and me and Steve. No Winchesters, no deals… just us and that gun, finally ending it."

"But you're not Dad," Lynn retorted. "And neither am I, and in case you haven't noticed, Steve isn't even here."

Jayne looked at the floor.

"Don't be Dad," Lynn pressed. "Don't be John. Be better than them, Jaynie."

Her stepsister's silence wasn't exactly comforting, but Lynn knew better than to recognize it as complete rejection. Jayne's silence could mean anything, really. Lynn watched the dark road and the black car ahead of them, her breath catching in her throat as she contemplated the day she'd had.

She wanted that gun too. Her memories of Ana Gibson were few, and all of them very blurry, but she knew Ana had taken her in and loved her when her own mother wouldn't. Lynn would slaughter every demon in the world for that woman.

But they were going to find a way to do it together, of that she was certain. She, Jayne, Steve, and all the Winchesters – even John. They were a team now, whether they liked it or not.

* * *

Sam sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, glowering moodily out the windshield. He was irritated, but not overly angry. Honestly, he wasn't sure what to feel. He wanted to get that gun back; he wanted to kill that demon. He was tired of his father treating him like a child. Still, he had always been laboring under the impression that if Dean would only stand up to his father, things would be different – that if he had another person on his side, he could make John listen.

Dean had finally done it. First, at the motel. Sam didn't know what Dean had said to their father, but it had made an impression on the man. He'd given up the details on the gun.

Then he'd stood up to him again, out in the woods. But John hadn't listened this time. The fighting had only escalated, and then John had completely shut them down. To make matters worse, the whole ugly family feud had been witnessed by both Jayne and Lynn, who had their own reasons to want the Colt and be pissed at John Winchester. Truthfully, Sam didn't know what to make of some of the things that had been said.

Dean parked the Impala in the trees, and Lynn steered the truck in beside it. Sam could see the barn from there, looking eerily deserted in the dark. There was only one car in front of the barn, and Sam clenched his fists, knowing that more vampires had gone after John than any of them were expecting.

His brother didn't say anything as he climbed out of the car. Sam followed his lead, pausing only to wait as Lynn climbed down from the truck. Dean stopped outside Jayne's open window.

"Stay," he ordered. "Shoot anything that moves."

Sam expected to hear some sort of sarcastic retort on Jayne's end, but she said nothing. Dean marched away from the truck and headed for the barn. Sam frowned after him, but followed none the less. Lynn fell into step beside him, and the three of them set off across the field, machetes in hand.

He had barely spoken to her since the beginning of the hunt. Ever since his father had shown up, he'd been caught in a never-ending cycle of angry – angry at his dad, angry at Dean, angry about the demon and his life and Jessica. He didn't have room for Lynn, and sex, and the lack thereof, and the state of their friendship. She probably hadn't had room for all that either, considering what had gone down with her sister.

His desire to talk to her always sprang up at the most inconvenient moments, but as they snuck towards the barn, through the brush, he had to fight the urge to say something to her. He couldn't – the vampires would hear them – but he wanted to ask her a question or make a joke or _something_.

The three of them ducked from the shadow of a tree to the shadow of the barn, doing their best to keep out of the moonlight. Sam watched his brother sneak in through the side door, and then slipped in after him, Lynn on his heels.

A quick survey of the barn proved that there was only one vampire at home. He'd heard their entrance though, and was slinking around the barn with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, looking for the source of the noise. As Sam watched, Dean darted out from the door and crept up behind the vampire.

The man spun around. "Boo," Dean quipped. Then he swung his machete through the vampire's neck.

Lynn winced beside him as the vampire's head hit the ground. "Quick," Dean ordered, wiping the blood of his machete. "We got to get those people out, and then we've got to find Dad before he does something stupid."

Sam nodded in agreement, marching for the cage by the front doors. Dean and Lynn followed him, and Dean went to work on the lock. Soon, the door had been opened and Sam found himself helping the weak, crippled people inside out of the barn and into the field. As he supported a middle-aged lady with light hair out the barn doors, he noticed the outline of Jayne's truck, headlights off, navigating through the trees.

"I can see lights up on the road," Lynn said suddenly, gently setting a young woman on the ground as she peered at the trees. Sam followed her eyes and discovered she was right. The lights were stationary, illuminating a stretch of the highway. Instinctively, he knew his father was up there, powwowing with the vampires.

Jayne's truck rolled to a stop outside the barn. "Load them up," Jayne ordered through the open window. "I'll take them into town. You three go get John."

"I told you to stay put," Dean snapped, supporting a large, barely conscious man on his shoulder.

Sam smirked as Jayne shrugged mockingly at Dean. "I ignored you."

"You sure you'll be ok driving?" Lynn asked skeptically, prompting Jayne to roll her eyes.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"Take that as a yes," Lynn muttered.

They made quick work of the vampires' victims, helping the worst two into the cab, and then supporting the rest them into the back of Jayne's truck. When everyone was situated, Jayne drove off, not even waiting for the victims to finish thanking their rescuers.

The moment Jayne pulled away from the barn Sam took off running for the highway. Dean and Lynn followed on his heels. Somewhere up on that road, John was in need of a rescue.

* * *

Why were there so many damn trees in his way?

Dean shoved his way through the brush, rushing for the main road. Lynn was right behind him, and Sam was a few steps ahead of them both. He clutched a crossbow against his chest as he rushed after his little brother, hoping against hope that they'd reach his father in time.

As they got closer, the trees cleared and Dean could finally see the highway. In the lights from both his father's truck and the vampires' cars, he could see John standing before the majority of the vampire pack. One tall man with long black hair grabbed John by his coat and threw him backwards into the truck, shattering the glass in the driver's side window.

The vampires were advancing, but the other hunters were close enough to shoot. Dean let an arrow fly from his crossbow, piercing the chest of a girl in a miniskirt and a cowboy hat. She crumpled to her knees.

As she fell, the rest of the vampires turned towards the new arrivals, and Dean fired the crossbow again. He took out a young man with shaggy hair and a green cargo jacket. Lynn flew in off his right, machete in hand, and swung the blade through the neck of the fallen male vampire. Sam rushed out of the trees, swinging his machete too, but the tall, long haired vampire caught him in the chest with his fist, knocking Sam to the ground.

Lynn cried out, rushing forward. Dean snatched Sam's fallen machete off the street and rushed the vampire too, but the thing had already snatched Sam up by his jacket and wrapped an arm around his throat. "Don't!" the vampire ordered. "I'll break his neck."

Dean's throat constricted as he clutched the machete in his hand. Lynn froze beside him, staring wide-eyed at Sam.

"Put the blade down," the vampire said.

He struggled for a moment, staring at the vampire with hard eyes. The other man tightened his grip on Sam's neck, and Sam gasped in pain. Dean flinched, his instinct to protect Sammy winning out above all else. He held out his hand in surrender, and then dropped the knife.

"You too," the vampire pressed, nodding at Lynn.

Dean turned to the other hunter, fixing her with pleading eyes. Her arm fell limp, and the machete tumbled out of her grasp. The vampire shook his head in disgust.

"You people," he spat at them. "Why can't you just leave us alone? We have as much a right to live as you do."

"I don't think so," John Winchester's gravelly voice sounded from behind them.

The vampire spun, Sam still clutched in his grasp. John had gotten his hands on the Colt and he fired without hesitation. The gunshot rang out in the street, the bullet piercing the vampire's forehead. He froze, standing stock still and staring at John with empty eyes. His grasp on Sam faltered, and Sam stumbled back from him. Dean grabbed his brother, his tense shoulders slumping with instant relief as his hands closed around Sam's arms. Lynn appeared on Sam's other side, wrapping her arm around his as she tried to support him.

The bullet hole in the vampire's head was large and black and oozing with navy blood. There was a flash of light, and Dean swore he could see the vampire's skull under his skin. Then the creature fell to his knees, toppling forward on his hands.

"Luther!" the vampire woman they'd captured earlier shouted in horror.

There was another flash of light, and Luther collapsed face first in the street.

Dean stared at the dead vampire in shock, still clutching his brother's arm. He looked to Sam and Lynn, who were both gawking at the body in the road, still holding onto one another. Dean couldn't quite believe his eyes. The Colt had _worked. _The vampire was _dead. _The legend was _real._

In all honesty, Dean hadn't expected the legend to be real.

The vampire woman snarled, making a move towards John, but the only other remaining vampire grabbed her arm and dragged her to one of the cars. Luther's mate looked furious, but her friend drove off, leaving their dead packmates and the hunters on the highway, in a cloud of exhaust.

Dean watched the car leave, and then his eyes fell on the dead vampire again. Then he looked up slowly from the vampire to his father, still standing by his truck with the Colt held loosely in his hand. For a moment, all four hunters stared at one another, shocked and silent. The road and the woods around it were eerily still.

John smiled, and the look of utter satisfaction on his father's face sent a shiver down Dean's spine.

* * *

Sam yawned, folding a shirt into his duffel bag. Dean stood at the other bed in the room, folding shirts as well. The motel room was dead silent.

The gun was real, and Sam still couldn't get over that. The gun was real, and it actually worked. Now, they were all camped out in a motel three hours away from where they'd showed down with the vampires, and all Sam could think about was the possibility that his father was going to leave and take that gun with him.

He was still thinking that way when the motel room door swung open and John walked into the room. Both Sam and his brother dropped the shirts they were packing and turned to stare at their father.

"So boys," he announced with a sigh, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. Sam watched him uneasily as he crossed the room, his boots scuffing against the hard, aged carpet.

"Yes, sir," Sam replied.

"You ignored a direct order back there."

"Yes, sir," Sam agreed.

"But we saved your ass," Dean retorted.

Instant panic flooded Sam as the words left his brother's lips. He darted wide eyes in Dean's direction, trying to figure out whether or not Dean had officially lost his mind.

To his great surprise, John did not start yelling. He just stared at Dean, who stared right back. "You're right," John said finally.

Sam blinked in shock. Dean looked plenty surprised too. "I am?" he asked.

"Scares the hell out of me," John admitted. "You two are all I've got. But I guess we are stronger as a family."

Sam stared at his father hopefully. "So, if we go after this damn thing," John went on, a small smile crinkling the corners of his mouth. "We go after it together."

"Yes sir," Sam and Dean agreed simultaneously.

The three of them smiled at one another. For a moment, Sam really thought everything was going to work out for them. And then Dean dropped the bombshell. "By together," he said, taking a step forward. "I'm assuming you mean _all_ of us."

As soon as the words left Dean's mouth, Sam's shoulder slumped. He half-expected another argument, or for his father to simply close up and refuse to answer. Neither of those things happened. Instead, John cracked another smile. Sam smiled involuntarily at the sight of it.

"Sure," he nodded. "The more the merrier."

John clearly didn't mean that at all. The words seemed to have been physically painful for him to say. But it was enough. Sam didn't say thank you, and he didn't hug the man. He just smiled at his father, and so did Dean. John smiled back, and for the first time in a very long time, Sam felt like they had a family again.

They had family, they had friends, and they had a demon-killing gun. Anticipation took hold, and Sam didn't fight the cold satisfaction that settled in his gut.

* * *

Lynn fluffed her damp hair with a towel as she sauntered out of the bathroom, wearing her sweats. She snatched her cell phone off the bedside table and glanced at the display. She'd sent Jayne a text, telling her where to meet them. Lynn sighed in relief to see a reply text from her sister, assuring her that she was fine and she'd be at the motel soon.

The motel looked a lot like the last one – fake log cabin theme, dim lighting, and lumpy beds. But Lynn wasn't thinking about the state of the room. She was thinking about the demon that had killed her stepmother, and she was thinking about the Colt revolver.

Sam and Dean were holed up in the room next door. John was supposed to be next door too, but Lynn wouldn't be surprised if he'd already bailed. After that scene in the woods, his intentions had been made clear. He wanted the gun, he wanted to hunt that demon solo, and he wanted his boys out of the line of fire.

He also didn't want to share the gun and the glory with two random hunters his sons had picked up in Chicago. And no matter what had happened out on the highway with the vampires, she doubted John had changed his mind.

There was a knock on the door. Sighing, Lynn tossed her towel onto the bed and peeked through the peephole before swinging the door wide open.

"Hey, Sam," she greeted the tall, shaggy-haired boy on the other side of the threshold.

"Hey," he smiled. "Could I come in?"

She stepped back from the doorway, holding the door open. Sam walked inside, and she shut the motel room up after him. "What's up?" she asked.

A part of her wondered if he was here to rekindle their arrangement. After all, the scene was strangely reminiscent of many nights before. He'd come to her room, Jayne would be out, clothes would come off…

"My Dad's staying," Sam announced with a bright smile. "He said that Dean was right. That we were stronger as a family."

Whatever she had expected to hear, that hadn't been it. "Oh," she replied, trying to grin as wide as he was grinning. "That's great, Sam."

"He's not taking off in the middle of the night with the Colt," Sam went on. "We're going to hunt the demon together. All _five_ of us."

It shouldn't have filled her with relief and happiness and hope, but that one little sentence put a genuine smile on her face. "Really?" she asked, jumping a little. She felt like an overly excited schoolgirl. Probably looked like one too.

Sam nodded, still grinning. "Really."

Lynn shrieked and threw her arms around his shoulders. Sam hugged her back without hesitation, lifting her off the ground. His arms squeezed her waist, and she smiled over his shoulder, still clutching his neck.

Her feet hit the carpet again, and she grinned up at him, still clinging to his arms. Sam's arms were still around his waist, and he was smiling happily.

Reality set in. Sam cleared his throat, and yanked his arms away. Lynn's smile faded and she dropped her hands from his shoulders. For a moment, they stood awkwardly in the center of her motel room, Lynn staring at the carpet, and Sam staring at the door.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you," Sam said.

She smiled at him, nodding. "Right. Thanks."

"So you'll be sticking around?"

Lynn rolled her eyes, another genuine smile crossing her face. "Duh."

He chuckled slightly. "Great. Um… I guess I better…"

"Right," she agreed, nodding again. "Glad John changed his mind."

"Me too," he returned earnestly. Then he scratched at the back of his neck and stepped around her, headed for the door. "See you in the morning."

"Good night!"

Sam smiled at her one last time and ducked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Lynn half smiled at the carpet, shaking her head at her own silliness. The two of them had just stopped having sex, and now they were going to get weird about it every time they touched? It was stupid.

None of that mattered though. For the first time in a long time, Lynn had hope that she and Jayne and Steve would finally find the demon that killed Ana. They'd finally kill that thing, and then her father's soul could rest in peace.

It had only taken twenty-two years.

* * *

Jayne yawned as she steered the truck into the motel parking lot, completely exhausted. It was a motel three hours out of town whose address Lynn had texted her, telling her to meet the other hunters there. After dropping off the weak, sluggish, but very grateful vampire victims at the local clinic, Jayne had bailed on the small mountain town and headed for the designated meeting spot.

Her neck was throbbing, and there was a dull ache behind her eyes. She yawned again as she parked the truck beside Dean's Impala. Surprisingly, John's truck was in the lot too. Lynn had told her in a text that they were all fine and they'd gotten the Colt and John had announced that he wanted to stick around and work together, but Jayne honestly hadn't fully believed her until she pulled into the parking lot and saw John's truck.

She hoped she could make it to the motel room. Every muscle in her body craved rest, and she was feeling light-headed. Jayne reached for the handle, but her truck door swung open before she made it halfway there.

Dean appeared in the frame, leaning on the open door. Jayne frowned up at him as he reached into the truck to help her down. "What are you doing?" she asked.

He scoffed. "Helping you. Duh."

"Why?"

She regretted the question as soon as she saw the look on his face. Dean shook his head at her in astonishment. "Well, I thought you were mad at me," Jayne defended herself.

"You know what, fine," Dean spat, stepping away from the truck. "Figure it out yourself."

He turned from her, and Jayne winced slightly. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself out of the truck. Her tired legs hit the pavement and her vision blurred as they gave out from under her. Dean caught her, holding her up against his chest. She blinked, trying to focus her vision.

"Are you all right?" he asked with a concerned frown.

She nodded. He helped her stand all the way up, and only let go of her when she had a firm grip on the bed of her truck. For a moment they stood there in the parking lot, Dean glaring at Janis, and Jayne staring meekly at the pavement.

"Lynn was right," she said suddenly. "What I said; I didn't mean it."

Dean snorted. "So what? She speaks for you now?"

Jayne shrugged, still staring at the pavement. "She probably should."

He actually laughed.

Silence followed. She shifted about uncomfortably, still holding onto the truck. "Dean… I got angry, ok?"

He nodded without looking at her.

"It's just that… finding this demon? Killing it? It's important to me."

"It's important to all of us," he retorted.

"Look, I know that," she said. "But… when John said he was leaving…"

She trailed off uselessly as Dean fixed her with a hard look. Jayne swallowed, feeling weak in the knees again.

"That thing killed my mom," she finished softly.

"It killed mine too."

His tone was irritable, he still looked angry, and she still felt like shit. "Russ wanted me to keep after the thing," Jayne said quietly. "He died before he got the chance to… I have to do this, not just for her, but for him too. And I know you have the same reasons and I know you deserve to be in on this, but so do Lynn and I, and when your father said he was going to bail on us… I kind of panicked. I stopped seeing the big picture. I… I don't know. Do you know what I'm trying to say?"

Dean stared at her. She stared back, trying to figure his expression out. He just watched her for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah, I think I do."

She swallowed, and he looked down at the ground, scratching at the back of his neck. "Look, you're annoying," he told her. "But I don't want to be mad at you today."

Jayne snorted. "Thanks," she retorted. "That's sweet."

He smirked. She smiled slightly. Then he slammed her truck door shut and took her by the arm. She leaned on him as he led the way to the motel. When they reached the motel room, he didn't open the door. He didn't even knock.

Jayne stared at him as his eyes bored into hers. She suddenly felt very vulnerable, and she didn't know why. Flashes of the last motel room came rushing back to her – the kiss, the hug, the inevitable interruption…

Dean wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Jayne gripped his arms, still staring up at him, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. His eyes searched her face, and then he yanked her even closer, smashing his lips down on hers.

She didn't know what it meant, or why he insisted on doing it over and over again, but he was kissing her and she kind of didn't care why. Her fingers tightened around his arms, her lips pressing back against his mouth. Dean had one arm around her waist and the other hand behind her head, and he was kissing her hard, his mouth demanding and hungry on hers.

Suddenly, he pulled away. She stared at him, breathless, and he stared back for a brief moment before abruptly letting go of her. He knocked loudly on the motel room door and then turned his back on her, walking too fast towards the next room.

Her eyes were trained on his back. He ran his hand over his hair and practically threw himself against the motel room door as he unlocked it. By the time Lynn opened her door, Dean was already inside the next room and she was left wondering what the hell was going on.

The kiss stuck with her the rest of the night. She couldn't shake the feeling of his hands or his lips. Most importantly, she didn't entirely understand what the kiss meant, or what the kiss from earlier meant, or why the kissing kept happening.

Something had happened back in that motel room, maybe even before she had woken up. Whatever had happened, Jayne could _feel_ the change in her relationship with Dean, even if she didn't have the courage to talk about it.

She just didn't know what that change meant.


	57. Salvation

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

AN: Big thanks yous to angeleyenc, ColtFan165, Terry, SevenYearsLong, Nelle07, kazza03, AshlynPaige92, MythsndLegends, BlueEyedPisces, Alicja w Krainie Czarow, close your eyes, weirdstar007, skm228 Lov3good, and SPN Mum for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 57: Salvation

Jayne stood in the corner of the Winchester's motel room, her arms folded across her chest, and let her eyes rove over the clippings and drawings and torn book pages tacked to the walls. It was early morning, gray light seeping in through the partially closed blinds over the one window. Sam was leaning on the sink under that window, Lynn was sitting on the very edge of one of the two beds, John was seated at the desk on the far wall, and Dean stood behind his father, eyes fixed on the older man.

They were in a town called Manning, Colorado, three hours away from the town where they'd found the vampires. It had only been yesterday that they'd hunted those vampires and recovered the Colt revolver, and already the five hunters were getting down to business – business being hunting down and killing _the_ demon.

Most of the stuff tacked to the walls had come from John's research, but some of it was from Russ's journals. Russ had done a lot of work tracking the thing, but John had done even more. Both hunters had uncovered similar things – before the fires, there had been signs that a demon was coming.

"So this is it," John was saying now, gesturing to the walls. "This is everything I know." All four of them stared at John, who paused only briefly in his narration. "Look, our whole lives I've been searching for this demon – not a trace. Just nothing… until about a year ago. That's when I picked up a trail."

"That's when you took off," Dean said.

_That's when Steve first disappeared_, Jayne thought, but she said nothing out loud.

"Yeah," John agreed, looking down at the desk. "The demon must have come out of hiding or hibernation."

"All right," Dean said. "So what was this trail you found?"

"Starts in Arizona," John explained. "New Jersey, then California. Houses burned down to the ground."

"North Carolina," Jayne spoke up. Everyone stared at her. "Did the trail take you to North Carolina?"

John stared at her a moment before slowly nodding. "Yeah, Winston-Salem."

"That's where Steve was," Lynn breathed. "When he left…"

"There were signs there," Jayne pushed on. "Cattle deaths… temperature fluctuations…. electrical storms… did these things happen before _all_ those fires?"

John nodded. "Yeah. It took me a while to see the patterns, but once I did, I went back and checked and…"

He trailed off, staring at the ground. "You're saying this happened in Lawrence," Dean said.

John nodded again. "In the week before your mother's death."

_Just like in Coventry_, Jayne added silently. John looked away from Dean and turned his eyes on Sam.

"And in Palo Alto," he said. "Before Jessica."

Jayne glanced at Sam, who was staring at the floor with a distant, anxious expression. He gripped the sink behind him so hard his knuckles whitened. "These fires," he said through gritted teeth. "Did they…"

"The thing's going after families," John cut him off, agreeing with whatever unspoken thought had been about to leave Sam's mouth. "Just like it went after us."

Sam looked up at his father with sudden understanding. "Families with infants?"

"Yeah. The night of the kid's six-month birthday."

Sam's eyes widened. "I was six-months old that night?"

"Exactly six months."

Jayne watched Sam's eyes land searchingly on Lynn. Her stepsister nodded in response to Sam's silent question. "Steve too," she murmured.

Sam's face tightened. "So basically this demon is going after these kids for some reason." He huffed bitterly. "Same way it came for me?"

John looked away, his finger rubbing his lip. "So Mom's death?" Sam pushed. "Jessica? It's all because of me?"

Jayne glared determinedly at the floor, folding her arms tighter around herself, hating the insinuation. Lynn was giving Sam this stupid, sad look, with her eyes all wide and pitying. But Dean rounded on his brother almost angrily. "We don't know that, Sam."

"Oh, really?" Sam snapped, shoving himself off the sink. "Because I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean!"

"For the last time, what happened to them is _not_ your fault!"

"Yeah, you're right, it's not my fault, but it is my problem!"

"No, it's not _your _problem, it's _our_ problem!"

"Ok," John said, getting to his feet. "That's enough."

Jayne trained her eyes on John, who was coming around the desk, his eyes on the floor. Dean had his arms folded across his chest and was on the verge of pacing. Sam returned to his place by the sink, but he didn't look any less upset. Lynn stood up off the bed, taking a hesitant step towards him, but stopped in her tracks when the youngest Winchester flew into another outburst. "So why's it doing it? What does it want?"

John shook his head. "I wish had more answers. I do. But I've always been one step behind it. Look, I've never gotten there in time to save…"

He trailed off, swallowing. Jayne almost felt a twinge of sympathy for the older man. Everyone got quiet again. Jayne made eye contact with Dean, who only looked her way for mere seconds before dropping his eyes awkwardly to the desktop. "All right, how do we find the thing?" Dean asked. "Before it hits again?"

John took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before looking up and meeting his son's eyes. "The signs are starting again," he explained.

"Where?" Sam demanded.

"Salvation, Iowa."

* * *

The road into Salvation, Iowa was long and winding, wrapping around patches of forest and farmland. Sam sat back in the passenger seat of the Impala, chewing nervously on his knuckles as he stared out the windshield at the back bumper of his father's giant truck. He was feeling anxious, his stomach turning with anticipation. They were _so_ close to finding the demon.

The sky was dark with stormy gray clouds, and it was raining relatively hard, little drops hitting the windshield and dampening the road. Dean had his usual rock music playing on the radio, but it was turned down low, so it could barely be heard over the rain. Sam glanced into the side mirror outside his window, checking out the gray truck following close behind them.

Dean had been relatively quiet the whole time they'd been on the road. His jaw was tight and tense, and his finger kept flexing against the steering wheel. Sam wanted to ask him how he felt about all this, but somehow he felt like that conversation wouldn't end well, so he said nothing.

"Damn it," Dean said suddenly, eyes on their father's truck. "What the hell is he doing?"

Sam looked up to see his father pulling off onto a small turnabout at the side of the road. Dean swerved in after him, and the truck followed behind the Impala. All three vehicles braked jerkily, and their engines cut out with little warning.

He clambered out of the car, frowning in confusion. John leapt down from the cab of his truck and slammed the door behind him. "Damn it!" he exploded, smashing his fist against the side of the truck.

Dean slammed his door too. "What is it?"

The rain was misting against Sam's skin, dampening his coat and instantly soaking through his hair. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Lynn and Jayne climbing out their truck and drawing nearer to hear what was happening.

"Son of a bitch!" John spat.

"What is it?" Dean demanded again.

"I just got a call from Caleb," their father explained.

"Is he ok?" Dean asked.

"He's fine," John replied. "Jim Murphy is dead."

Sam's stomach tightened uncomfortably. "Pastor Jim?" John nodded in confirmation. "How?"

His father looked pained as he replied. "Throat was slashed. He bled out."

Again, Sam's stomach clenched. He'd had fond memories of Pastor Jim. Whenever John was hunting and there was no one left to take care of him and Dean, Pastor Jim had always stepped up to the plate. Shaking his head, he looked up at Dean, and saw similar distress crossing his brother's face.

"Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place," John went on.

"A demon," Dean murmured. John stared at him expectantly. "_The_ demon?"

John shrugged. "I don't know."

Sam sucked air in through his teeth and glanced behind him at Jayne and Lynn, who were listening to every word the Winchesters were exchanging. Lynn made eye contact, her eyes big and full of sympathy. Jayne… well, her face was blank. Sam couldn't read her to save his life.

His father was still shaking his head. "Could be he just got careless," he was saying. With every word, he talked faster, sounding panicked and helpless. Sam didn't care for it – his father never sounded that way. "Just slipped up…" He breathed out, and shook his head again. "Maybe the demon knows we're getting close."

Sam shook his head too, looking back at the Nissan. Lynn was leaning on the front of the truck, her fingers playing nervously with the strings on her coat. They made eye contact again, and Sam bit his lip. Lynn took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Still no reaction out of Jayne.

"What do you want to do?" Dean demanded. He had yet to take his eyes off their father.

"Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up to cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months old in the next week."

"Dad," Sam protested. "That's going to be dozens of kids. How the hell are we going to know which one is the right one?"

"We'll check them all, that's how," John retorted.

Silence descended on the group. Sam shuffled uncomfortably by the Impala, and Dean glanced back at him. Lynn made eye contact with Sam once again, her own misgivings plain on her face. Jayne looked down at the dirt.

"Well, you got any better ideas?" his father asked in the face of everyone's doubt.

Sam swallowed, glancing around at the others. They all looked equally lost. "No, sir," he said.

John nodded and headed back to his truck. Dean marched back to the Impala too, and Sam glanced back at Jayne and Lynn one more time. Jayne didn't look back at him. She was opening the door to her truck. Lynn shrugged helplessly and forced a smile.

He forced a smile too and nodded back. When he turned around, he found his father still standing out in the mist, leaning one hand against his driver's side door.

"Dad?" Dean asked.

As Sam watched, John shook his head. "Yeah," he said, slowly turning around. Sam gawked at his usually strong, silent father, who was now standing in front of them looking grief-stricken and lost. "It's Jim," he said.

Sam stared and so did Dean. John shook his head again. "I can't…" The man trailed off, his eyes staring out at something in the distance. Finally, he looked back at the rest of them. "This ends now," he said. "I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes."

Then he turned his back on all of them and climbed into his truck. Sam looked helplessly over at Dean, who shook his head with his mouth set in a hard, fixed line and got into the car. A quick glance back at Jayne's truck showed the two women getting into their car too. Sam took a deep breath and slid into the passenger seat.

Engines turned over, and tires squeaked against the wet pavement. Hearing about Pastor Jim made Sam's chest throb and his eyes sting, but it didn't change what had to be done.

That prickle of anticipation Sam got when he thought about the demon was still there.

* * *

"I'm calling Steve."

Lynn jumped at the sound of her sister's voice. The truck was navigating a crowded four lane road that went smack dab through the middle of a busy town center. The hospital they'd been assigned to check out was up ahead on their right.

She nodded, glancing at Jayne. Her sister kept her eyes on the road, her jaw screwed together tightly. "Ok," Lynn breathed. "You should. He needs to know."

Jayne nodded too. A few minutes later, they were pulling the truck into visitor parking. Lynn pulled open the glove compartment and began searching for fake IDs. Jayne dug her cell phone out of her jeans and flipped it open.

Lynn's phone chose that moment to start ringing. Jayne frowned at her, and Lynn shrugged, grabbing her phone out of her coat. She glanced at the display screen. "It's Deedee," she announced.

"Answer it," Jayne replied, pocketing her cell.

Lynn did as ordered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Lynn," Deedee's voice came through on the speaker. Her voice sounded strained and sort of muffled, like she had a cold. "Um… I have some bad news."

Nausea swept through her, and Lynn swallowed back the bile that stung the back of her throat. "Is Rufus ok?" she demanded immediately, clutching the truck door.

Jayne looked at her in wide-eyed panic. "Daddy's fine," Deedee replied.

"It's not Danny…?"

"No, no, he's ok too. It's your ex-boyfriend. Trevor."

Her breath caught in her throat, and Lynn had to stifle a dry gasp. Ex-boyfriend was a term that did not properly describe who Trevor Weisman was. Lynn had briefly dated him in high school, but the two of them had decided they were better off as friends a month into the relationship. They'd remained friends too, and it had been him who had helped Lynn install the GPS tracker on her brother's Superbird.

She swallowed, hard. "What happened to Trevor?" she asked, her voice too calm. In all honestly, Lynn did not really need the answer.

"He's dead, Lynn. Beatrice went over to see him today – needed help fixing her computer or something… somebody killed him. He was lying on the living room floor…"

Deedee's voice cut out and Lynn heard her smothering a sob of her own. She blinked, gripping the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "How?" she whispered.

She heard Deedee take a deep breath. "His throat was slit. Police looked for fingerprints and stuff…"

"What did Rufus find?" Lynn interrupted, knowing damn well that Rufus would have done an investigation of his own.

"Sulfur."

Lynn slumped back against the seat, staring wide-eyed at Jayne's dashboard. "We don't know what it was, or why, but…" Deedee trailed off and took a deep breath. "I just thought you'd want to know."

"Thanks," Lynn murmured. "I did."

"I got to go, there's a customer…"

"It's ok, Deedee. I'll talk to you later."

"Take care of yourself, Lynn."

She heard a click on the line as Deedee hung up the phone. Lynn slowly shut her cell, lowering her arm into her lap. She looked over at Jayne, who was staring at her with huge eyes and a resolved expression on her face.

"Trevor's dead, isn't he?" she asked.

Lynn nodded. "Throat was slashed."

"Sulfur?"

Lynn nodded again.

"Shit," Jayne breathed, slumping against the seat. Lynn stared determinedly out the windshield as her sister rubbed her temples.

They didn't speak for a long time. Lynn fought with her eyes, trying not to let tears roll down her cheeks. Her eyes were stinging and wet, and she could feel a tingling sensation in her nose.

Jayne handed her a tissue, and then rested her hand on her shoulder. Lynn nearly broke down right then and there, but resisted. She buried her face in the tissue, struggling with the urge to sob. "This is all our fault," she choked out, her voice muffled by the Kleenex.

"Don't say that."

Lynn snapped her head up to glare at Jayne. The tears were escaping now. "How can it _not_ be our fault?" she demanded. "John's pastor friend is dead and now Trevor… literally one day after we got our hands on that stupid gun! Throats slashed, sulfur at the scene… Jayne, how the hell can all this _not_ be connected?"

Her sister stared at the floor, her hand still on Lynn's shoulder, and slowly shook her head. "I don't know."

"It's because of the gun, right? The demon knows we're close."

Jayne shrugged noncommittally. "Don't blow me off, Jayne!" Lynn exclaimed. "It knows we're close; John said it himself. This thing… we're coming after it, and it knows, and now it's killing everyone we know!"

"One more reason to put the thing down," Jayne returned steadily.

Lynn stared at her, her mouth hanging open and tears still rolling down her face. Jayne looked back at her without flinching. If Lynn looked real hard, she could see that Jayne's eyes were wet too but her chin was locked up in determination.

"I… I need to clean up," Lynn said finally, dabbing at her running mascara with her tissue. "I don't… we should tell the Winchesters. Warn them."

Jayne nodded.

"I'm going to go find a bathroom. Start the research without me."

Again, Jayne nodded. Lynn hopped down from the truck and jogged towards the hospital doors, still wiping her face with the now crusty, crinkled tissue. Her mind was spinning, and she felt like she wanted to hurl.

The fight hadn't even begun, and already there were casualties. It wasn't the first time she'd thought about finally killing the demon, but it was definitely the first time she'd wondered if the revenge was worth the cost.

If this was what revenge looked like, Lynn wasn't sure she wanted it anymore.

* * *

Jayne watched through the windshield of her truck as her sister jogged towards the white hospital building, her lower lip caught between her teeth. The news about their old friend Trevor had thrown her, but it had struck a much heavier blow to Lynn.

Taking a deep breath and wiping a small, stray tear out of her eyelashes, Jayne got a hold of her cell phone again and dialed Steve's number. Leaning back against the seat, she waited for her brother to answer.

"Hey, sis. What's up?"

At the sound of his voice, all of Jayne's muscles relaxed. She slumped in the driver's seat, breathing a sigh of relief. "You're not dead," she announced. "Good to know."

"Uh… yeah," Steve replied, sounding abashed. "I meant to call…"

"Save the excuses, I'm not calling to scold you," Jayne interrupted. "I'm in Salvation, Iowa with Sam, Dean, and their father. We've got a lead on the demon, and I think you need to be here."

There was a long silence. Jayne waited patiently for several seconds, but her brother didn't say a word. "Are you still there?" she demanded.

"Uh… I… I just… a lead on _the_ demon?"

"That's right," Jayne replied to his shocked stuttering. "John's been tracking signs, and he thinks the demon's going to strike here soon. Where are you?"

"Oh, you know. Maine."

Jayne's jaw dropped. "What the hell are you doing all the way out in freaking Maine?"

"Ghost busting, obviously."

She took a moment to absorb that information. "How soon can you get here?" she asked.

"Probably need two days."

Jayne took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I don't know when it's going to strike," she said. "It could take a week… it could come tonight."

She heard her brother swallow over the phone. "I'm heading out now," he told her. "Call me when you know more."

"Good," Jayne replied, the tension leaving her shoulders as relief set in once against. "And Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"We got our hands on a gun," she told him. "It's a Colt revolver, circa 1835. It's supposed to kill demons."

She hadn't expected her brother to laugh, but that was exactly what Steve did. "You found a demon-killing gun?"

"Yep."

There was another long silence. "Holy hell," Steve whistled. "You're fucking serious."

"Serious like one seriously dead demon."

"Sounds like a risk to me, Jaynie," Steve said, sounding skeptical. "Where did this thing come from?"

Jayne explained the whole story to her brother – the vampires, Daniel Elkins, Samuel Colt and the mysterious hunter, and John Winchester. When she got to the part about the gun killing a vampire, her brother whistled again.

"Are you serious?" he crowed. "Seriously? The vampire… it died?"

"Yeah," Jayne replied. "The gun works, Steve."

There was a short silence. "A lot of things must want to get their hands on that," Steve mused after a moment.

"You're not kidding," Jayne retorted. "Actually… you remember Trevor? From Stamping Ground?"

"What about him?"

"We just got a call from Deedee. He's dead, Steve, and we think a demon killed him."

Another short silence followed her announcement. "God, Lynn must be so upset," Steve whispered.

"Yeah. Here's the thing – a demon killed Trevor, and a demon just killed one of the Winchesters' friends too. If it's killing people we know, just because it knows we've got the gun and we're coming for it…."

"Damn it," Steve interrupted. "A lot of people could get hurt, Jayne."

"I _know_," Jayne agreed. "So I'm warning you. I want you here and in the fight, but you be damn careful on the drive out to Iowa."

His voice was low and steady, and she could see his face in her head, all determined and stoic. "I'll be careful," he promised.

"Good. Hurry up."

"I'll be there."

Her brother hung up the phone. Jayne took a deep, shaky breath, and tucked her phone back into her jeans. All of a sudden, the hunt for the demon, the revenge for her mother… everything felt just a little too real.

She climbed out of the truck with legs like Jell-O and marched towards the hospital doors.

* * *

The records office of the county health center had loud blue and black faux marble walls, which were not helping Sam's migraine. The headache had come on suddenly, and Sam was having a difficult time concentrating on the birth records sitting on the table in front of him. His head was pounding, and every time he tried to read the tiny print on the documents, his vision swam.

Predictably, his brother was no help. Dean's phone had buzzed a few minutes ago, leading him to promptly answer it and disappear. With an annoyed sigh, Sam rubbed his aching head and tried to focus on the records.

"Hey," Dean announced, appearing suddenly on the other side of the table. "That was Jayne."

"They find something?" Sam asked hopefully.

Dean shook his head. "Deedee Hannigan just called them. Lynn's ex-boyfriend back in Kentucky got his throat slashed."

Sam stared at his brother with huge eyes, swallowing a lump in his throat. "His throat was slashed?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "And Rufus found sulfur at the guy's place."

"A demon," Sam breathed.

"Something's starting, Sammy," Dean said, shaking his head. "I… I don't know. People are dying, and…"

Sam looked at his brother in surprise. He was staring at the table, his hands tightly gripping the back of a chair. "This is going to get ugly," Dean finished.

They were silent for a moment. Slowly, Dean sat back down in his chair. Then the two of them got back to reviewing the records. Hours were spent like this; Sam and his brother hunched over the table in the health center, reviewing birth certificates and making lists. Finally, when they'd gone through everything the nursing staff had to offer, they gathered up their lists, returned the files, and thanked everyone for their time before leaving.

The sky was still overcast, and although the rain had stopped, the sidewalk was still damp. Dean was ahead, keys jingling in his hand. Sam followed behind him, leafing through his list. By now, Dean had already reached the car, but as Sam meandered behind his brother, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks by splitting pain in his head.

Grimacing, he froze, grabbing his forehead. He could see a woman – young – older than him – with brown hair. She was wearing a nightgown – she had a baby – she was laying the baby in a crib. They were in a nursery.

"Sam?" he heard Dean ask in concern.

He heard a train whistle, and the woman over the crib looked up, startled.

"Sammy?" Dean demanded, grabbing him by the arm.

Suddenly, Sam was jolted back to reality. The pain in his head was stabbing, and he winced, still gripping his face. With a pained gasp, he wrenched his eyes open. Dean was standing in front of him, his eyes wide and concerned.

"I had another one," Sam breathed.

"Yeah," Dean retorted, but he still looked freaked. "Figured that much out on my own, thanks."

"It was a woman and a baby, Dean," Sam said in a low, serious voice. "At night? In their nursery?"

Dean swallowed, hard. Sam watched his Adam's apple bob noticeably. "It's got to be them," Sam pressed. "Uh… I heard a train."

"A train?"

Sam paid Dean's befuddled look no mind as he swung his backpack around to his front and started rifling through its contents. A few seconds of frantic searching yielded a road map of the area. Sam scanned it quickly, looking for railroad tracks.

"What are we doing, Sammy?"

He found the tracks almost immediately. The railroad was actually nearby, cutting close by a residential neighborhood. "This street," Sam said, pointing at the map. "I'm almost positive it's on this street."

"_What's_ on this street?"

Sam looked his brother in the eye. "The house the demon's going to burn tonight."

Dean stopped arguing and asking questions immediately. Mere seconds later, Sam found himself sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala as Dean navigated the streets of Salvation, looking for the neighborhood in question. He was quiet, still nursing that pounding migraine pain. Finally, Dean pulled on the street in question and parked against the curb.

Sam stumbled out of the car with the map still clutched in his hand, and began walking the block, his head still pounding. He could hear Dean hollering behind him, but he ignored his brother, focused on the task at hand. As he walked, the splitting migraine pain shot through his skull once again and he grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut and grabbing his head.

He could see the dancing ballerinas on a shadow box, the woman in her baby's nursery again, looking out the window at the dark street… a paladin window with white curtains and blue shutters. Then he saw the dark, man-shaped shadow standing over the baby's crib…

His vision cleared. Sam blinked at the house across the street from him: a two-story home with vinyl siding blue shutters, with a paladin window on the second story, overlooking the street. Frowning at the window, Sam stepped off the curb, moving towards the house as though in a trance. His eyes darted from the window to the sidewalk, where he saw a young, brunette woman walking along, pushing a baby stroller and holding an umbrella over her head.

She was, without a doubt, the woman from his vision.

He rushed across the street, startling the woman when he appeared on the sidewalk beside her. "Hi," he greeted her. She smiled at him, and he took hold of the baby stroller. "Here, let me take that."

The woman had been trying to close her umbrella – as the misty rain from earlier had finally stopped – but couldn't because her hands were full. "You look like you don't need that anymore," Sam said, smiling back at her and still holding the stroller.

"Thanks," she said, shutting the umbrella and tucking it into a pocket on the back of the stroller.

"She's gorgeous," Sam announced, smiling at the baby in the stroller. "Is she yours?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, wow," he said, and then smiled at the baby again. "Hi."

The woman made to keep walking, but Sam artfully blocked her way. "I'm sorry," he told her, holding out his hand. "I'm rude – I'm Sam. I just moved in up the block."

"Oh," the woman said pleasantly, shaking his hand. "I'm Monica. This is Rosie."

"Rosie," Sam repeated. "Hi, Rosie."

"Welcome to the neighborhood," Monica said politely, still smiling.

"Thank you," Sam replied. He looked back down at Rosie. "She's such a good baby."

"I know," Monica agreed brightly. "She – I mean, she never cries. She just… stares at everybody. Sometimes she looks at you, and I swear, it's like she's reading your mind."

Sam smiled painfully. It seemed to him that it was very likely Rosie could indeed read someone's mind – or at least, one day, she would.

"What about you, Monica?" he asked, changing the subject. "Have you lived here long?"

"My husband and I bought our house right before Rosie was born."

"How old is Rosie?"

"She's six months today," Monica smiled. Sam stared at her, his stomach sinking. "Big, right? Growing like a weed."

Sam tried to smile again, but he could feel that he wasn't. The smile didn't want to appear on his face, and so his lips twitched pitifully instead. Monica stared at him, frowning slightly, as though trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

"Monica," Sam began.

"Yeah?"

"Just, uh… just take care of yourself, ok?"

Monica still looked a little confused. "Yeah, you too, Sam. We'll see you around."

"Definitely."

Then Monica was off, heading for the house with the paladin window. A minivan was pulling into the drive, and a young man climbed out. Sam stood there on the edge of the sidewalk, staring at the small family, his head still aching.

Suddenly, there was burning in his skull, violent pain pulsing through his head. Sam cried out, gripping his head, as the images began assaulting him – the ballerinas, the nursery, Monica and the crib… fire…

He saw nursery, and he heard the sound of a lullaby. Then the music stopped, and wind began to blow, the mobile handing over the crib spinning round and round. He saw the shadowy man standing over Rosie, and Monica entering the room. He heard her ask what he was doing there, and then he saw Monica fly into the wall. She slid up the wall and onto the ceiling, crying and calling for her baby. Blood blossomed on the front of her white nightgown, and then the nursery burst into flames.

"Sam!"

Suddenly, he was back. Sam blinked, his head still pounding, and looked around. He was still standing outside the house, on the street, and now Dean was in front of him, shaking his arm. "What the hell happened, man?"

He wasn't sure how to answer Dean's question. "I had a vision."

"I know. What…?"

"That woman, over there," Sam said, nodding at Monica. Dean glanced her way, and then back at Sam. "The demon's coming for her tonight."

Dean stared at him, silently. Sam stared back. There were no words.

* * *

Dean sat on the edge of the bed by the motel room door, frowning at the other two men in the room. Sam was hunched over the table by the sink, still nursing his head, while his father sat on the other bed, clearly furious. The room was like all the others – too dark, dreary, with wood paneling on the walls and ugly orange comforters on the beds. They'd arrived there only a few minutes earlier and explained the situation to John – telling him where the demon was going to strike and all about Sam's visions.

"A vision?" he repeated.

"Yes," Sam sighed, still rubbing his head. "I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

"And you think it's going to happen to this woman you met because…?"

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them."

John shook his head, his hands folded in front of his face and his elbows perched on his knees. Dean tucked his chin, but before anyone could explain anything further, there was knock on the motel room door.

Immediately after Sam's vision, Dean had called Jayne, and then his father, so he knew exactly who was at the door. Sighing, he got to his feet and pulled the door open.

"Hey," he greeted the two women on the other side of the threshold, stepping back so they could enter. "We're just recapping Sam's vision."

He let the door fall shut. Sam looked up pathetically from the table at the loud noise, and Dean winced in apology. Lynn, predictably, went straight to Sam's side, and took a seat next to him. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Sam nodded. Dean rolled his eyes and looked at Jayne. She'd parked herself on the edge of the bed he'd been sitting on, so Dean made his way to the sink.

He hadn't spoken more than a few words in passing to Jayne since he'd kissed her yesterday in Colorado. It was stupid, but he didn't have the guts to say anything. He didn't know what to say; he didn't know what he _felt_.

His father was looking at both women suspiciously, but Dean picked up the conversation right where it left off. "The visions, they started out as nightmares," he told his dad, reaching for the coffee. "Then Sam started having them while he was awake."

Again, his father's eyes darted from Lynn to Jayne, still brimming with suspicion. It was like he hadn't expected them to know, or didn't want them to know, or resented the fact that they knew when he didn't. Hell, maybe it was a combination of all three.

"It's like… I don't know," Sam said, gripping the bridge of his nose. "The closer I get to anything involving the demon, the stronger the visions get."

"All right," John snapped suddenly. "When were you going to tell me about this?"

Dean stared at his father, and then glanced at a befuddled Sam. "We didn't know what it meant."

"When something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up your phone and you call me!"

The statement raised Dean's hackles and he slammed his coffee down on the counter, whirling around to glare at his father. Before he could get a word out, however, Jayne snorted loudly. "You mean like that time when Dean was _dying_?" she barked, getting to her feet. "And Sam called you, but you didn't show up or even call him back?"

Dean was twice as pissed now. Maybe she'd said exactly what he'd been thinking, but he did not need her fighting his battles for him. His father looked plenty pissed too, glowering Jayne's way. "Excuse me?" he asked her.

"Well, come on, Dad, she'd got a point," Dean spoke up, even as he glared at her. Jayne glared back. "Sam _did_ call you when I was dying. I called you when we were in Lawrence. Getting you on the phone? I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

Silence. John stared at him a moment, and then he slowly nodded. "You're right," he conceded. "Although I'm not crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

It wasn't anywhere near the response he'd expected, but Dean couldn't feel good about it. He stood where he was, still glaring at his father, who irritatingly did not glare back. "Look guys," Sam announced, breaking the tension. "Visions or no visions, the fact is we know the demon is coming tonight, and this family is going to go through the same hell that we went through."

Dean turned his back on everyone, marching back towards the coffee. "No they're not," his father replied. "No one is. Ever again."

He didn't know why he was so pissed at everyone, but Dean _was_ pissed. He was irritated at his father, at Jayne, at Sam, at the whole damn hunt, demon included. Dean wanted to yell and throw and break things, but instead he lifted his coffee mug with a jittery hand and swallowed a mouthful of the black, bitter crap.

Sam's cell rang. "Hello?" he heard his brother answer the call.

There was a brief pause. "Who is this?" Sam asked.

Dean frowned at the back of his brother's head. Lynn, still seated at the table with Sam, was also furrowing her brow at him, looking both confused and concerned. His brother's next word sent his stomach dropping like a rock.

"Meg."

He met Jayne's eyes over Sam's head, sharing identical, worried looks. "The last time I saw you, you fell out of a window," Sam said into the phone.

Dean pushed himself away from the counter as his father stood up off the bed. Sam was silent a moment, listening to the other end of the conversation. "Just your feelings?" he demanded suddenly. "That was a seven story drop!"

There was another pause. Sam glanced at their father, who looked… expectant, Dean decided. As though he'd thought something like this was going to happen. "My dad," Sam replied to whatever Meg was saying. "I don't know where my dad is."

Dean still couldn't hear Meg's end of the conversation. Frowning, he stared at Sam, who looked from him, to Lynn, to their father. John held out his hand for the phone and slowly, reluctantly, Sam handed it over.

"This is John," his father said into the cell.

The motel room was silent, heavy and tense. Dean stared at his father's back. John had turned his back on them all and was facing the door. Jayne, who had by now approached the table, glanced at John, and then at Dean. Dean met her eyes briefly.

"I'm here," his father's deep voice echoed through the room.

He could feel the shift in the room, and he knew this whole hunt was about to go straight to hell. First, with Pastor Jim, and then with Lynn's old boyfriend, and Sam's vision, and now with the phone call from Meg – who should _really_ be dead – Dean took a deep breath, and clenched his fists at his sides, still staring determinedly at his father's back.

"Caleb?" John exclaimed, shocked and desperate. Sam looked up from the table, his hand falling from his forehead, and stared at their father too. Dean swallowed, hard.

"Caleb," his father said again. "You listen to me; he's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go."

Somehow, Dean didn't think Meg would go for that. There was a brief pause as she responded to John's demands. "I don't know what you're talking about," he retorted.

Another pause, and then his father cried out, "Caleb? Caleb!"

Dean's stomach turned over. He stared at his father in horror. "I'm going to kill you, you know that?" John said evenly into the phone.

There was that tense, heavy silence again. It gave Dean the creeps. John was pacing the room, rubbing his face with his hand, his eyes trained on the floor. Dean kept staring at him – they _all_ kept staring at him, Sam, Lynn, Jayne – but he didn't look up once, opting to turn his back on them once again.

"Ok," he muttered into the phone. "I said, ok. I'll bring you the Colt."

Sam twisted in his chair, gawking at his father. Jayne drew a noticeable hiss of breath, her fists clenching. John paid them no mind. "It's going to take me about a day's drive to get there." Brief pause. "That's impossible. I can't drive there in time, and I can't just carry a gun on a plane."

Dean stared at his father, who stared blankly at the wall. Meg must have hung up because John slowly lowered the phone and snapped it shut. When he turned to look at the rest of the hunters, they all stared back at him.

"She wants the gun," John said.

"Puzzled that out on our own, thanks," Jayne returned. "What's she got hanging over your head?"

Snarky though the comment was, it lacked Jayne's usual animosity when it came to John, and for that Dean was glad. His father noticed it too, and responded in kind. "She killed Caleb."

Dean swallowed, ducking his head. John blinked furiously. "She was the one who killed Jim, and she was the one that killed, uh…"

"Trevor," Lynn supplied quietly, lacing her fingers together on top of the table and staring at them.

John nodded. "Right. If we don't hand over the Colt, she kills more of our friends."

Silence. Dean stared at his father, who looked determinedly at the floor. "We can't let her get away with that," Sam spoke up. "I mean, what about the demon? It's coming here."

"We don't have a choice, Sammy," John replied patiently. "I have to go, or people are going to die. That demon bitch is going to hunt down everyone we've ever known and kill them."

That comment only silenced Sam for a moment. "You think Meg is a demon?"

John sighed. "Either that or she's possessed by one. It doesn't really matter."

"What do we do?" Dean asked.

"I'm going to Lincoln," John returned automatically.

"What?" Dean demanded.

"Doesn't seem like I have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people die – our friends die." He nodded at Jayne and Lynn. "_Your_ friends die."

Dean glanced at them. Lynn was staring at the table still, her eyes looking watery. Jayne met his eyes, and quickly lowered them.

"Dad, the demon is coming tonight," Sam argued. "For Monica and her family. That gun is all we got. You can't just hand it over."

"Who said anything about handing it over?" John retorted. "Look, besides us and a couple of vampires, no one's really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like."

Dean snorted incredulously. "So, what? You're just going to pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?"

John shrugged. "Antique store," he corrected.

That didn't make Dean feel any better. "You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?"

"Look, as long as it's close? She shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"Yeah, but for how long?" Dean exclaimed, his temper rising with every answer his father gave. "What happens when she figures it out?"

John lowered his eyes. "I just… I just need to buy a few hours. That's all."

Silence. Dean shook his head at his father, still annoyed. Sam and Jayne were staring at him, and Lynn was still looking at the table. "You mean for us," Sam said softly.

His father stared steadily at Sam. Dean frowned, looking incredulously from his father to his brother. "You want us to stay here," Sam went on, almost robotically. "And kill this demon by ourselves?"

"No, Sam," John returned. "I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school; I want Dean to have a home."

He turned away from them, approaching the window by the motel room door. Dean stared after him, and so did Sam. Jayne took a step backwards, folding her arms awkwardly in front of her chest.

"I want Mary alive," John said hoarsely, and Dean swore he could hear tears in his father's voice. The man whipped around, and Dean saw that his eyes _were _wet. "I just… I want this to be over."

The room fell silent again. Dean looked away from his father, because the sight of the man with tears in his eyes was more than unsettling. Sam wiped at his face, sniffing. Jayne cleared her throat, and everyone jumped at the sudden sound, whirling around to stare at her.

"Sounds like a plan to me," she announced, and Dean saw his father give her the tiniest of nods. "Let's just find the replacement gun and get this show on the road."

John agreed and started barking out orders. Dean stared at her, unaccountably annoyed at her agreement with the plan. His father was putting his neck on the line for _all_ of them and he didn't appreciate her encouraging it.

He wanted the demon dead, he wanted to save the tiny family Sam had met … but he didn't want to lose anyone in that motel room doing it. For the first time in a long time, Dean began to wonder if the revenge was really worth it.

* * *

The car was silent as Dean navigated it down the main highway towards an antiques store on the outskirts of Salvation. Jayne sat beside him with her arms folded over her chest, and stared stoically out the windshield. They hadn't spoken since they'd gotten into the car, and Jayne wasn't sure how to read that.

It was raining again. Jayne watched the windshield wipers pump back and forth across the glass, only half listening to the guitar music quietly playing on the radio. Her mind was wrapped up in thoughts about the demon, her family, Dean's family, the Colt, and all the casualties that gun had already caused.

"You shouldn't have yelled at him," Dean said suddenly, his voice sudden and startling in the silence.

Jayne glanced at him, her eyebrow raised. "About me," he clarified. "You shouldn't have gotten in my dad's face about Nebraska."

She stared at him a moment, but he kept his eyes trained on the road. Then she shrugged and returned her gaze to the window. "Someone's got to stick up for you," she retorted.

An annoyed little scoff escaped his lips. "Yeah, well, I don't need you to do it. I can stick up for myself."

"Yeah, you can," she agreed, shrugging again. "But you don't."

"Sure I do."

"Not with your dad."

The car fell silent again, the silence only broken by the pattering of the rain and the squeak of the wipers and the tinkling of the radio.

"You shouldn't have encouraged this bullshit plan either," Dean snapped.

Jayne looked at him sideways. "Cut the crap, Dean. Your dad was going to Lincoln whether I supported him or not. Besides, what the hell else are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know," he spat from behind gritted teeth, his hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel. "I just… I just know this is going to end badly."

He was right. Jayne couldn't argue with any of that. This hunt _was_ going to end badly. The moment Sam had answered his phone back in that motel room with a confused, 'Meg?' Jayne had known this was all going to end very, very badly indeed.

"You can't talk like that," she told him. "We're finally getting a shot at this demon, ok? Don't jinx us before we even start."

Dean sucked in his cheek, shaking his head and staring at the road. They fell silent again, and neither of them spoke until the Impala reached the antique store and Dean parked in a spot outside the front door.

He swung open the driver's side door, but Jayne didn't move. When he raised a questioning eyebrow at her, she waved her cell phone at him. "I've got to make a call. Meet you inside."

With a shrug, he climbed out of the car and slammed the door. Jayne watched him as he marched into the antiques store without sparing her a second glance. Then, for the second time that day, she dialed Stephen's number.

"What do you want _now_?" Steve answered the phone, and despite everything, it brought a smile to her face.

"Sam had a vision," she said, cutting straight to the point. "The demon's coming tonight."

There was a long silence. Jayne worried her lower lip with her teeth and poked at her jeans, knowing what her brother would say before he said it. Finally Steve released a heavy sigh into the phone. "I'm not going to make it in time," he announced, sounding resigned.

"Yeah," Jayne whispered. "I know."

It was all going so terribly wrong already. Jayne stared at Dean's dashboard, her phone still pressed to her ear. Steve was supposed to be here. _John_ was supposed to be here. Meg was not supposed to be killing innocent people just because they'd gotten their hands on the Colt. Dean was not supposed to be ignoring her and then pissed at her and…

"Where are you right now?" she asked her brother.

"Massachusetts."

Jayne sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Damn it."

"You're telling me. I'm gonna miss out on all the action."

Her brother's cocky, smirking tone did not make her smile this time. "Hey, tell you what," Steve went on. "Maybe I'll swing by Rufus's place."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You and Lynn can meet me there, and you can tell me all about killing that evil SOB."

"Unless we die."

"Don't say that."

All the joking immediately left his voice. Jayne sighed. "Sorry."

"See you at the pub?"

"You got it. Steve?"

"Yeah?"

Jayne took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Take care of yourself."

He paused briefly, and then said in a low voice, his breath hitching, "You too, Jaynie." Then he hung up the phone.

Jayne hung up too, still staring at the dashboard. With a sigh, she tucked the phone away and climbed out of the car. Through the large glass windows at the front of the store, she could see Dean bent over a glass case, frowning at the weapons on display.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and then marched on inside.

* * *

Dean slid behind the wheel of his car and tossed the bag in his hand at Jayne, who had already climbed into the passenger seat. She caught it, laying the Colt substitute in her lap. Sighing, Dean slammed the door and turned the key in the ignition.

They'd squabbled over the gun in the store, trying to decide which one of the Colt revolvers on display matched the real Colt the best. Dean was irritated – both at her, and at himself. He wasn't sure why he kept insisting on squabbling with her. It wasn't really what he wanted to do. That was the whole thing, really. He didn't know what he wanted.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He wanted this demon dead. He wanted everyone he loved to come out the other side of the fight still breathing. He did _not_ want his father traipsing off to Lincoln with a fake Colt to meet with Meg _alone_.

He sighed harshly. Jayne rolled her eyes. "The gun's fine, Dean. It looks almost exactly the same. We just have to carve that symbol on the barrel."

"I couldn't give a shit about the damn gun," he growled. "This isn't going to work. My dad's going to get himself killed."

There was silence again. Dean didn't make a move to shift out of park and get back on the road. He just sat there in the car, glaring at the steering wheel. It was still raining, and the heater in the car was fogging up the windows.

Jayne sighed. "Dean," she said softly. "Your dad… Meg didn't leave him with a lot of options."

"Don't stick up for him," he snapped, angry at her all over again. "You don't agree with anything he does, so don't start now."

She turned in her seat and glared at him. Dean glared right back. Slowly, her glower softened, and that made Dean even more annoyed than he already was. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

He shrugged, tearing his eyes from hers. "Don't."

There was another long silence. Dean glowered determinedly out the windshield, and Jayne stared at the console. "This was never going to be clean and easy," she said. "We all knew that. It's not just your dad, Dean. We're all risking our lives tonight."

What got him more than anything was her calm acceptance that she could die. Dean didn't want to die – he didn't want any of them to die. He was sick to death of watching the people he cared about embark on stupid, suicidal quests for revenge, without giving a second thought to their own lives. If the price for revenge was losing one of them, then he didn't want revenge any more.

But she was right, and that irked him still more. Every hunt they took could lead to death; this hunt especially. It was really starting to hit him hard, the reality of their mortality. He'd nearly died after hunting that raw-head. Jayne had nearly died in the vampire nest. Sam, Lynn, his father… every last one of them constantly putting their lives on the line...

"We're going to get this son of a bitch," Jayne said, her tone hard and determined.

Dean looked over at her. She was glowering at the glove compartment, her mouth set in a firm, tense little line. He stared at her profile, swallowing. God, he wanted to kiss her.

Jayne looked up at him, her gray eyes piercing through him. Dean didn't bother fighting the impulse. He leaned over the console and took her cheek in his hand, pulling her lips against his. She tensed, surprised, before pressing her mouth back against his. Dean buried both hands in her hair, his lips hard and demanding on hers, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth. Jayne let out a small gasp, opening her mouth and he took full advantage of the opportunity. Her hands were digging through his hair now too, and she was pulling him closer, her warm, wet mouth savaging his. Dean broke free, his lips moving down the column of her neck. He sucked and kissed and bit at her skin, pulling another gasp from her mouth, and then a whimper. She pulled on his hair as he kissed his way down her throat and under the collar of her shirt, her other hand creeping up inside his shirt and squeezing his back. He felt her fingernails digging into his skin. Dean kissed his way back up her neck and to her mouth again, pulling at the buttons on her shirt.

She yanked back suddenly, her hands flying out of his shirt to press against his chest. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, we can't."

He groaned, slumping back against the driver's seat. "Why the hell not?" he demanded. She met his eyes, and Dean swallowed at her somber expression.

"Because it will feel like goodbye," she whispered.

For a long time, they sat there in the warm car, staring at one another, listening to the rain beat down on the Impala. Then Dean nodded, reaching out and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "No goodbyes," he agreed.

Jayne nodded back. "No goodbyes."


	58. Fire of an Unknown Origin

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

AN: Big thanks yous to Love3good, Alicja w Krainie Czarow, ThreeMoons, AshlynPaige92, BlueEyedPisces, angeleyenc, ks90, SPN Mum, Nelle07 and ColtFan165 for all the reviews!

I know – the season premiere has come and gone, and the story still isn't finished! Urgh! But we've only got another four chapters to go, so hold on tight! It's almost over! Kind of… because then there will be a sequel, and so on, so… yeah. On another note, how awesome was that premiere? After season 6, my expectations for _Supernatural_ had gone _way_ downhill, but that episode was pretty cool, right? I'm excited now! All right, I'll stop. Enjoy the chapter! ;)

* * *

Chapter 58: Fire of an Unknown Origin

Lynn leaned against the back of Jayne's pickup with her hands shoved in her pockets, and stared up at the dull gray sky. The rain had stopped, but the air was still cool and damp, and the dirt road she was parked on had turned to mud, freckled with brown puddles. The road curved alongside a raised railroad, and she could hear a train whistle blowing in the distance.

John's truck was parked behind her, and he and Sam were rifling through the weapons in the back as they waited on Jayne and Dean. Lynn wasn't helping them. She took a deep breath and exhaled harshly, surveying the brown, marshy grass and the huge rain puddles under the railway. It was wet and miserable, and it suited the somber mood of their little hunting party just fine.

Sam handed something to his father, and then rounded the back bumper of the large black truck, headed her way. Lynn watched him steadily as he advanced, his eyes trained on the mud. "Hey," he greeted her, stopping next to the truck and meeting her eyes briefly.

"Need something?" she asked coolly.

He frowned slightly, his eyes still on the mud. "No, just… are you ok? Dean said this Trevor guy… he was an ex-boyfriend?"

Lynn shrugged, examining the toe on her boot. "High school boyfriend. More a friend, really. He helped us out from time to time."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

She squinted up at him, and he met her eyes. Lynn shrugged again. "You lost your friends too. Jim Murphy, Caleb…"

"That's why this thing has to die," Sam cut her off, and all the sympathy and kindness vanished from his voice. She frowned up at him again, but Sam wasn't looking at her. He was staring at the railroad trestle, his eyes narrowed and his face cold. "It's taken too many people from us as it is, and we can't let it take more."

Well, that was certainly true, she had to admit. Still, the cold look on Sam's face rubbed her wrong. She frowned up at him, trying to understand why seeing him this way made her so uncomfortable. Because he was Sam, she supposed. He wasn't meant to be cold. He was supposed to be warm and empathetic and staring at her with a big pair of puppy eyes.

Maybe she didn't know him as well as she thought.

It wasn't that Lynn didn't want the demon dead, because she did. But this whole hunt felt off – too fast and too unorganized. Her brother wasn't going to make it in time. John was leaving. Meg was killing people. Everything felt wrong, Sam especially.

She heard the rumble of Dean's engine just then. Both she and Sam looked up, and she saw the Impala rolling down the mud road and coasting to a stop behind John's truck. Sam instantly marched over to the stopped car, and with great energy, Lynn shoved herself off the truck and followed him.

"You get it?" John demanded as soon as the other two hunters were out of the car.

Dean nodded, pulling a brown paper bag from his coat. He handed it to his father, who slowly drew out the contents. Lynn stepped up beside Sam, watching intently as the Colt replica finally made its appearance.

"You know this is a trap, don't you?" Dean asked, his eyes on his father. "That's why Meg wants you to come alone."

John smirked. "I can handle her. I've got a whole arsenal loaded. Holy water…"

"Dad," Dean interrupted.

"What?"

"Promise me something."

"What's that?"

"If this thing goes south, just… get the hell out. Don't get yourself killed; you're no good to us dead."

Lynn felt very small and awkward just then. John ducked his head. "Same goes for you two," he said.

There was a long silence. John reached into his coat and pulled out the real Colt. "Listen," he announced. "They made the bullets special for this gun. There are only four of them left, and without them, this gun is useless."

Her stomach turned at the new information. Lynn frowned at John, and then exchanged a look with her stepsister. John looked at Sam, and then at Dean.

"You make every shot count," he ordered.

"Yes sir," Sam replied with no hesitation.

Lynn darted her eyes towards him, but Sam's gaze was fixed on his father and the gun in his hand.

"I've been waiting a long time for this fight," John went on. "Now it's here, and I'm not going to be in it. It's up to you, now. It's your fight; you finish this. You finish what I started. You understand?"

There was a sad, empty feeling in Lynn's gut. She swallowed hard against the sudden pain in her chest, trying to catch her breath. It was hitting her too fast and too hard – the fight was coming to an end. The demon was coming tonight. Steve…

Steve wasn't going to be there.

She remembered her father at that moment, back when she was graduating high school, not long before the heart attack that took his life… his black hair tinged with gray, his dark eyes haunted, sitting with the family, all of them hunched over a table at Hannigan's Pub… _if anything happens to me, this is what I need you to do…_

Lynn swallowed, blinking furiously against the sudden onslaught of tears stinging at her eyes. She could feel Jayne's eyes on her, but she didn't dare meet them. Sam and Dean stared at their father, and he stared back, all three of them silent for a long, tense moment.

John handed Dean the real Colt, slowly and deliberately. Dean's hands closed around the barrel. Lynn watched the eldest Winchester brother turn the gun over in his hands, examining it carefully.

"We'll see you soon, Dad," Sam spoke up, his tone determined.

John nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. Lynn saw the stony look on Dean's face and knew he wasn't buying the whole 'see you later' thing anymore than she was. John gripped Sam's shoulder.

"See you later,' he said. Then John turned on them all and headed for his truck. Lynn watched him swing open the door and nod at them all one last time. The next thing she knew, John had climbed into the driver's seat, slammed the door behind him, and turned the engine over. All four of them stood in the muck, staring at the back bumper of John's truck as he took off down the long muddy road that followed the railroad.

Inhaling shakily, she looked over at the other three. Jayne was leaning on the hood of Dean's car, her hands shoved in her coat pockets and her eyes narrowed into slits, staring after John. When Lynn caught her eye, Jayne barely managed a small smirk.

The boys got in their car, and Jayne joined Lynn in the truck. Seconds later, they were on the road again, Jayne navigating Janis down the wet dirt road.

"I told Steve we'd meet him in Kentucky," Jayne said.

Lynn nodded. "Ok."

They didn't say anything after that. Lynn stared at the dashboard and Jayne tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. The silence in the pickup was tense and heavy and full of all sorts of unsaid things.

Lynn didn't say them. She kind of wanted to – it was in her nature – but the last thing she was going to do was say goodbye.

* * *

It was late evening, and the sun had already set. Sam sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, in the dark, his eyes trained on the white split level across the road. His brother sat beside him, drumming his hands impatiently on the steering wheel. Behind them, down the road a little ways, was Jayne's pickup.

The tiny family was bustling around the dining room table, eating dinner and feeding the baby. Sam knew the demon wouldn't come for another few hours, but he had insisted they set up surveillance on the house as soon as possible. They couldn't afford to miss anything.

After all, their father had gone to head off Meg and left them in charge of killing the demon. They couldn't let him down, not now, not after twenty-two years. If they didn't kill that demon tonight, then the risk John was taking would be for nothing.

It wasn't all about his father. Sam shivered slightly, a creepy-crawly sensation traveling down his spine. His thoughts turned to Jessica… her smile, her laugh, her eyes, her big heart… all he could see now was his girlfriend burning alive on the ceiling.

This was ending tonight, one way or another. Either the demon was going to die, or Sam was going to die trying to kill it.

He glanced at Dean, who was staring at the house, trying to look calm. Sam wasn't buying it. "This is weird," he offered.

Dean frowned at him. "What?"

"After all these years, we're finally here. It doesn't seem real."

His brother glanced down. "We've just got to keep our heads and do our job, just like we always do."

Then he turned back to the window so he could watch the house.

"Yeah," Sam murmured, and he couldn't help the small smile that pulled at his lips. "But this isn't like always."

Dean glanced at him again. "True."

They were silent for a moment. Sam knew – and so did Dean, he was sure – that this night could end a lot of different ways, and most of those ways were anything but good. He took a deep breath. "Dean, uh… I want to thank you."

His brother frowned at him again. "For what?"

Sam smirked slightly, shrugging. "For everything." Dean continued to stare at him, but Sam wasn't deterred. "You've always had my back," he pushed on. "Even when I couldn't count on anyone, I could always count on you, and… uh… I don't know. I just wanted to let you know. Just in case."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean snapped, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"Don't say just in case something happens to you! I don't want to hear that freaking speech, man! Nobody's dying tonight! Not you, not me, not Jayne or Lynn, not that family – nobody!"

Sam stared at him, moving his mouth slightly as he tried to think of a reply. Dean kept going. "Except that demon," he finished. "That evil son of a bitch isn't getting any older than tonight, you understand me?"

He was a little thrown by his brother's violent reaction, but he had a point. Saying goodbye… it wasn't necessary, and all it did was stir things up that didn't need to be stirred. Sam slowly nodded, and Dean turned away, still looking pissed. They both returned their attention to the house, lapsing into tense, anxious silence once again.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Jayne eyed the little white house across the street from the driver's seat of her truck. Through the large windows she could see the tiny family inside bustling about, getting ready for bed. It was dark out, but still fairly early. Lynn sat beside her, fiddling with her hair as she stared at the house as well. They were parked down the street a little ways, some distance from the Impala parked in front of them, in an attempt to avoid suspicion.

"Does this even feel real to you right now?" Lynn asked suddenly.

She glanced at her sister out of the corner of her eye and then shrugged, leaning back in the seat. "Kind of, sort of. I don't know."

There was a long silence. Lynn continued to fidget in the seat beside her, and then breathed a loud sigh. "I'm freaking out," she admitted.

Jayne looked at her a moment. "That's reasonable."

"What if the gun doesn't work? What if Meg doesn't buy the fake gun thing? What if Sam's vision was wrong, or…"

"Lynn," Jayne interrupted. "Shut up."

Her sister huffed, offended. Jayne rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to be a better person. "Sorry. Look, I just meant… if we sit here all night, worrying about the what-ifs, we'll have chickened out by the time the demon gets here."

"Maybe we should chicken out," Lynn returned. "I mean… this is big, Jaynie. This demon… the Colt… I feel like I'm walking into a landmine."

Jayne stared at her sister, who was nervously threading her fingers together. "You know we have to do this."

Lynn nodded without looking up. "For Mom," Jayne pressed. "And Russ."

"I know," Lynn breathed. "I get that. I want the damn thing dead, I just… I feel like we're going about it all wrong. Something is off here."

"Yeah, something _is_ off here," Jayne retorted. "Steve's not here and John ran off to hand some demon bitch a fake gun. This whole thing is all sorts of off."

The truck cab plunged into silence. Jayne returned her attention to the house, her focus split between the nursery and the living room windows. She couldn't deny that Lynn's anxiety was catching – that this was dangerous, this was overwhelming, this felt surreal, this felt off…

Her cell phone rang. Jayne snatched it up, answering it without checking the caller ID. "Hello?"

"Jaynie? It's Deedee."

Jayne frowned. "Deedee? What is it? Did something else happen?"

Lynn looked up at her with huge, anxious eyes.

"It's Daddy," Deedee admitted, her voice trembling. "Jaynie, I can't find him."

Jayne's breath hitched, and her stomach turned. "What?'

"He went to go check out a hunt nearby… that was hours ago, and now he's not answering his phone. I went to check the location, but all I found was his car, abandoned… there's no trace of him, Jayne! I'm worried something's happened to him."

Jayne's nausea kicked up another notch. The crap just kept piling on, didn't it? Rufus was _missing_, and she was stuck out in Iowa, waiting for that stupid demon…

"Jaynie?" Deedee asked hesitantly.

"Sorry," Jayne said quickly. "You sure he's… you can't find _anything_?"

"No, I… look, I'm so sorry to ask, but…"

It wasn't a big deal, really. Jayne had been planning on swinging by the Hannigan place after this hunt wrapped up anyway. But if Rufus was hurt… she had to go, but… it wasn't like she could leave _now_…

"Call Steve," Jayne said abruptly. "He should be on his way to the pub anyway, but call him. Ask him where he is and tell him what's going on."

"Right, I will… but, Jaynie…"

"Lynn and I are coming," Jayne assured her. "We'll help you, but we need to wrap something up before we get on the road. Steve will take care of things until we get there."

Deedee breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Thank you."

"Just sit tight."

Her old friend mumbled an affirmation and then hung up the phone. Jayne sighed heavily, tossing her phone into the cup holder. Lynn stared at her with huge, panicked eyes. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Jayne met her sister's eyes, trying to keep her face blank. "Rufus is missing."

Lynn squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled harshly, slumping back against the seat. Jayne looked away, focusing on the steering column, her hands curling into fists. Everything was going wrong. Lynn was right, Dean was right; this whole thing, it felt like a trap.

Yet she couldn't shake the belief that if she just killed that demon, all this crap would go away.

* * *

Dean really hoped Sam couldn't see his fingers shaking around the cell phone he was holding to his ear. He listened intently to the ringing on the other end, hanging up when he heard the voicemail message.

"Dad's not answering," he announced, pocketing the phone. He turned his anxious eyes back on the dark house across the road, trying to focus on watching for the demon.

"Maybe Meg was late," Sam offered. "Maybe cell reception's bad."

"Yeah," Dean muttered half-heartedly. "Maybe."

He glared out the window. The house remained still. After a moment, however, the wind began to pick up outside.

"Dean, wait," Sam said suddenly. "Listen."

He turned away from the window and glanced at the dashboard. His radio was on and glowing under the dashboard light, the speaker buzzing with static. Sam fiddled with the dial. When he withdrew his hand, the needle began to travel on its own. Dean gawked at the radio in shock, his skin crawling as a man's voice sounded out over the static, his words unintelligible. The wind blew harder, leaves scattering across the hood of the car. The street lamps began to flicker on and off. Dean looked back at the tiny house across the road, his stomach turning over at the sight of the lights all turning on and rapidly flickering.

"It's coming," Sam announced, and they both leapt out of the car.

He heard the doors on Jayne's truck slam and knew the two women were right behind them. The four of them rushed the house, the wind blowing all around them. Dean reached the front door first and bent over the lock, picking it as fast as he could. It still took too long. Too many seconds later, the lock clicked and he pushed the door open.

The entry was dark. Sam headed in first, taking long-legged strides towards the stairs. Dean glanced over his shoulder at Jayne, who was stepping through the door directly behind him. Lynn squeezed in next and made a beeline for Sam as Jayne gently shut the door.

He felt like there was something down there, in the darkened living room, watching and waiting for them. Hesitantly, he inched forward into the room, nerves tingling as he listened for an attack.

The attack came in the form of a baseball bat flying at his head. Dean ducked just in time to see Monica's husband smash the bat into a nearby table lamp.

"Get out of my house!"

The man swung again, but Dean caught the bat and slammed the man into the wall, squeezing the bat against his windpipe.

"Be quiet and listen to me, be quiet and listen to me," Dean said in a hushed tone. "We are trying to help you."

"Charlie? Everything ok down there?"

A woman's voice echoed down the stairs. Dean exchanged a panicked look with his brother.

"Monica, get the baby!" Charlie hollered.

"No!" Sam bellowed. "No, don't go in the nursery!"

He ran up the stairs, Jayne and Lynn on his heels. "You stay away from her!" Charlie called after them, fighting against Dean's grip.

Dean had had enough. He cuffed the guy on the head, knocking the poor bastard out cold. Then he hefted the man onto his shoulders and marched for the front door.

Five seconds in and already everything had gone to pot.

* * *

Sam rushed upstairs, gasping heavily with fear. From down the second story hall he could hear Monica cry out from the nursery.

The Colt was cold and heavy in his hand. He ran along the dark, narrow corridor, his stomach turning, and burst in through the nursery door.

Monica was on the wall, her head and shoulders inching onto the ceiling. Standing over Rosie's crib was a dark, shadowy man. Sam swallowed, hard, the Colt shaking in his hands. The man by the crib looked him in the eye, and even though Sam couldn't make out any other feature, he did see the glowing yellow eyes set in the man's shadowy face.

Sam pointed the Colt and fired.

The demon vanished in a wisp of black smoke.

Monica fell off the wall with a scream and landed in a crumpled heap on the nursery floor.

"Where the hell did it go?" Sam demanded. He glanced all around the room, Colt still clutched in his hands. His head was spinning, and his stomach was still jumping inside of him. When he turned to Monica, he found Jayne standing behind him and helping the young mother to her feet. There was a blur of movement to his right and Sam whirled just in time to see Lynn dart past him and rush for the crib.

Dean rushed into the room as Lynn hefted the baby out of her crib and darted back towards the door. Jayne was tugging Monica back into the hall, Lynn racing ahead of her with the baby in her arms. Sam didn't move from his spot in the room, still looking all around for the demon.

The crib burst into flames.

"Come on!" Dean barked, shoving him into the hallway. "Go! Now!"

Sam stumbled down the hall, Dean still pushing him. The acrid stench of smoke assaulted his nostrils and he choked slightly as they started down the stairs. Suffocating heat was filling the house as the flames in the nursery sent dim light flickering down the hall, casting weird shadows on the walls.

Finally he and Dean burst through the front door, the cool night air a relief against his feverish skin. Lynn was handing Monica her baby and her husband was struggling up on his feet.

"Get away from my family!" he bellowed.

"Charlie, don't!" Monica exclaimed. "They saved us!"

Sam blinked at the tiny family. Monica took Rosie from Lynn and headed to her husband's side. Charlie wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you," Monica said.

He supposed he ought to feel good about this small victory – Monica and her family were alive, they'd stopped the demon before it could hurt them… but the demon had _gotten away_… he'd _wasted_ a bullet…

Head and stomach spinning, Sam turned away from the tiny family, his eyes traveling up towards the nursery window. He could see the flames licking the ceiling, smoke billowing out the broken glass, warped and flaming curtains hanging over the windowsill.

That's when the black shadow appeared in the window.

Sam's grip on the gun tightened. "It's still in there!"

He was running back for the front door before he even fully realized it. Vaguely he could hear Dean and Lynn shouting at him, could feel his brother grabbing at his coat, but it was all white noise. The demon was still in there, still alive, and he _had_ to kill it, fire be damned.

After all, he'd promised himself. Either he killed that demon tonight, or he died trying.

* * *

Jayne could smell smoke and hear the crackling of the flames. Blistering heat rolled off the burning building in gusts of wind. She barely remembered escaping the house. She did remember the black man-shaped shadow over the crib; she remembered the shadow looking up with a glowing pair of yellow eyes. She remembered the gunshot.

She sort of remembered hauling Monica out of the house, Lynn running up ahead with the baby, Dean shoving Sam down the hall behind her. That part was all a blur.

The demon was not dead. The demon had got away.

"It's still in there!"

Sam's shout snapped her out of her numb shock. Jayne looked up at the tall young man, and then at the nursery window. For a brief moment she saw the shadow in the midst of the flames. Then it was gone.

"Sam! No!"

Startled and half out of it, Jayne looked away from the window to see Dean struggling with his younger brother, trying to wrestle him away from the burning house. Sam was fighting to shove him off, trying desperately to get inside, to get to the demon…

Jayne didn't have the Colt – why had she let someone else carry the gun? She didn't have the Colt, but still her feet carried her slowly forward – two steps, maybe three.

"Dean, let me go!"

"Sam, stop this!"

Her stepsister had joined in on the shouting, darting in front of Sam and pressing her hands into his chest, trying to push him back from the blaze.

"It's still in there!" Sam shouted again.

"It's burning to the ground!" Dean bellowed back, shoving him back several steps. "It's suicide!"

"I don't care!"

"I do!"

Sam had stopped struggling, and Dean was standing in front of him, glowering at him. Lynn was there too, her feet planted firmly on the ground and her arms folded over her chest. Sam glowered back at both of them, his eyes traveling back to the nursery window. Jayne followed his gaze. The black shadow was still there.

And then it wasn't.

It didn't flicker or vanish in a puff of smoke. One second it was there and the next it was gone.

Jayne stared at the flaming window. She clenched her fists at her sides, her stomach aching hollowly. She swallowed hard, her throat painfully dry.

"Jaynie!" Lynn called.

She turned to her sister. Dean was now dragging Sam back to the Impala, wrestling the Colt from his hands, and Lynn was on her cell phone, probably calling the fire department. Jayne nodded at her and marched towards the truck.

A stupid, suicidal, angry little part of her wanted to rush back into the burning building.

She didn't. Instead, Jayne swung open the driver's side door on her truck and perched herself on the edge of the bench seat, her long legs hanging out into the street. She stared at the split-level house and watched it burn.

When the fire department arrived and Monica had assured Lynn that they would be fine, all four hunters left. Jayne followed the Impala back to the motel, the cab of the truck stinking like smoke. Lynn was talking about Rufus and Kentucky and Steve, and worrying about how Dean and Sam would take the news of them leaving.

Jayne responded with noncommittal grunts, too wrapped up in her own thoughts to offer much in the way of conversation. Lynn was right of course. They were leaving the boys in a lurch, and if it wasn't for Rufus, she would stay right here, in Iowa.

But it _was_ Rufus who had gone missing, and that was a deal breaker.

Her head hurt – probably from smoke inhalation, but Jayne didn't think that was entirely the problem. She had been in the room – she had seen the demon with her own two eyes. It had seen her.

Yellow eyes. What the hell kind of demon had yellow eyes?

Not that it mattered – what mattered was that once again the yellow eyed demon had slipped through her fingers. Jayne shook her head, alternately tightening and loosening her grip on the steering wheel.

All she felt was empty.

* * *

Dean could _not_ believe what he was hearing.

"You're going _where_?" he demanded, glaring at the two women in front of him.

He and Sam were standing in the stepsisters' motel room, watching them pack their things, and chafing under Lynn's sudden announcement that the two of them were leaving.

"Kentucky," Jayne said shortly, not looking up from her duffel.

Of course they were going to Kentucky. They'd failed to kill the demon, and his father was missing, so of course the only two people who could help Sam and him were leaving. Dean clenched his fists at his sides, shaking his head. "You're telling us this _now_?"

"Look, we were planning to meet Steve after the hunt," Lynn spoke up gently. "But we weren't going to leave before we found your father. It's just that now… it's Rufus. Deedee called us while we were waiting for the demon. He's missing, and there's a damn good chance Meg or something else that works for the demon has something to do with it and…. and… damn it, it's _Rufus_. We can't not go!"

She'd started out calm, her voice gentle, but by the end of the speech she was shouting, her tone high pitched and frantic. Dean's glower softened, but he was still annoyed.

"I'm sorry," Lynn breathed. "It's just… it's _Rufus_."

"It's ok," Sam spoke up, in a raspy undertone. "We get it. You should go."

They shouldn't go – that Dean knew for sure. This was absolute bullshit. He was pissed at both of them. They'd just gotten back from _failing _at killing the demon they'd been hunting their whole lives. His father had left to hand a fake gun to a crazy demon skank, and now he wasn't answering his phone. They should be sticking together, regrouping, marching into Lincoln, Nebraska to save his father.

"I'm so sorry," Lynn whispered, and Dean looked up in surprise when he realized she was talking to him.

She really did look sorry, he had to admit. She looked torn and conflicted and like she might shed tears. Dean tucked his chin, lowering his eyes to the carpet. "It's Rufus," he echoed her earlier sentiment. "We understand."

He did understand. He just didn't like it.

"If John doesn't pick up his phone… if something happened to him… you two call us, ok?" Lynn pressed. "You call us the moment you need our help, and we'll come running."

Dean nodded. So did Sam. Lynn stared at them both, a little desperately, and then she nodded too, returning to her packing.

Sam stared at her back a moment, scratching at his hair. Then he stalked out the motel room door, letting it fall shut, too hard, behind him.

Dean just stood there, staring at Jayne, who wasn't looking at him. Lynn finished packing her bag and then disappeared outside, her duffel slung over her shoulder. "I'm sorry," Jayne murmured once her sister had left. Her eyes were still on her bag. "If it wasn't Rufus…"

She trailed off and swallowed. Dean nodded, although she couldn't see it. "We get it," he said evenly.

"When you need us, call us. Lynn's right; we'll come."

The way she wouldn't look at him was infuriating, but the way she said _when_ rather than _if _was somehow reassuring. Somehow, _when_ felt like a promise, where _if_ felt like a polite brush-off. Dean stared at her a moment, feeling too many things at once – anger, disappointment, fear…

They were going to leave, and he really wanted them to stay.

Dean pushed himself off the wall and crossed the room, approaching the bed slowly, reaching behind him and pulling the Colt from its place in his waistband. Jayne didn't even look at him. She kept frantically stuffing crap into her duffel, gnawing her lower lip. He reached her side and seized her wrist. Surprised, she dropped the shirt she'd been holding and looked at him with wide, startled eyes. Dean pressed the Colt against her palm. "Here," he murmured.

She frowned at him, slowly lowering her eyes to look at the Colt. "Take it," he insisted. "You might need… there might be…" He cut himself off before he could say it. Demons. There might be demons.

Jayne didn't take the gun. She stared at it for a while, her eyes still wide and her lower lip still caught in her teeth. He could see the hunger in her eyes as she studied the Colt. She wanted to take it. She was thinking about it.

But she didn't take it. Dean nearly laughed, except it wasn't really that funny. Ironic, yeah, that she wouldn't take the gun now when yesterday she'd been adamant that she would. She'd faced off with his father over the damn thing in the middle of the woods, both of them yelling and glaring, each one too stubborn to concede. But now, she wouldn't take it.

"No," she whispered. "No, your father… if he doesn't… you need it more than me."

Dean stared at her. She stared back, and for a long moment they just stood there in the motel room, their eyes focused on one another. Finally, she tore her eyes away from his and returned to packing.

Slowly, he turned away and headed to the foot of the bed. He sat on the edge, turning the Colt over in his hands. It terrified him, that she wouldn't take the gun. The thought that she _would_ take the gun had also terrified him, but now that he knew she wouldn't, he was scared for a whole new reason. He stared at the bottom of the dark paneled wall, where the ugly checked carpet hit the baseboard. From behind him he heard the drag of a zipper. He felt the mattress lift as Jayne removed the weight of her duffel bag. Dean didn't turn around.

Her hand fell heavily on his shoulder. Surprised, Dean slowly turned his head, looking at her over his shoulder. Jayne met his eyes dead on.

"I'm coming back," she told him.

For a long, silent moment, he just stared at her. She stared back.

"You better," he returned.

She held his gaze only a moment longer. Then Jayne dropped her hand, turned away, and walked out the door.

* * *

Lynn lifted her duffle off her shoulder and hefted it into the bed of the truck. The bag landed with a loud, heavy clunk against the plastic bed-liner. Sighing, she stepped back from the truck, standing awkwardly in the dark parking lot. One lone green parking light buzzed over her head. She frowned at the motel, waiting for her sister to appear.

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Whirling around, her hand hovering over the Glock in her waistband, she found herself face to face with Sam.

"Hey," she breathed in relief. "What are you doing out here?"

He shrugged temperamentally. "Cooling off, I guess."

She nodded, dropping her eyes to the pavement. Sam leaned against the light post, shoving his hands into his coat.

"I'm sorry," she said again. For some reason, she just couldn't stop apologizing. There was nothing to be done about the situation – they _had_ to go to Kentucky – but circumstances didn't lessen her guilt over the whole thing.

Again, Sam shrugged. "You don't have to keep apologizing. We get it."

Lynn nodded again, but she didn't believe him. She didn't believe Dean either. Both Winchesters were putting on a brave face, but she knew they had secretly been counting on Jayne and her having their backs. John still wasn't answering his phone, and that meant Sam and Dean needed their help.

But Rufus needed help too, and for right now, he had to come first. Later, after they got the Kentucky mess sorted out…

"Just call if something happens," Lynn said.

"We will."

Silence. Lynn shuffled awkwardly, sneaking glances at Sam's face. He didn't look at her. She sighed, slumping against the back of the truck. "Everything's got to turn out ok, Sam."

He looked up at her then, his eyes blazing. "How?"

She didn't have an answer to that. Feeling uncomfortable all over again, she dropped her gaze and poked at the loose gravel in the parking lot with her boot.

"We lost the demon," Sam pressed angrily. She winced, not looking up. "It got away. I wasted a bullet. My dad is missing. You're leaving. So far, everything seems pretty screwed up to me, Lynn."

"I'm sorry," she whispered again.

"It doesn't matter," Sam spat. "It doesn't change anything. You and Dean should have let me go."

Then he turned away from her and marched back towards the motel. Lynn didn't look up from the pavement. She stared at the asphalt under her shoes and blinked back tears. It wasn't just Sam – although he was a part of it. But there was also an overwhelming sense of failure to contend with.

Too many moments later, she heard the motel room door slam. Looking up, Lynn saw her stepsister barreling towards her, carrying her duffel. Lynn straightened, pushing herself off the truck and taking a deep, calming breath. Jayne reached the truck and tossed her bag in the bed.

"You ok?" she asked without making eye contact.

Lynn nodded.

"Let's go."

Jayne headed for the driver's side and Lynn went around to the other side of the truck. They climbed into the cab and Jayne started the engine. Lynn leaned back in the seat as Jayne wheeled the truck out of the parking lot and turned sharply onto the main road.

The night felt like it was pressing in on all sides. Lynn took another deep breath, blinking at the empty road that lay ahead of them. She could still feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, and her chest ached with pent-up sobs.

Jayne was silent, her eyes fixed on the road, her hands tight on the wheel. Lynn subtly wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye and looked out the passenger side window. Her hand was pressed into her chest, trying to rub away the ache that refused to dissipate.

She said nothing when a tear rolled down Jayne's cheek.

* * *

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, hunched over and glowering at the carpet. He was barely paying attention to his brother, who was pacing the motel room with his cell pressed to his ear, swearing at their father for not picking up the phone.

"Something's wrong," Dean announced.

He ignored the proclamation, still glaring at the floor.

"You hear me?" Dean demanded. "Something's happened."

"If you had just let me go in there, I could have ended all this."

He believed every low, guttural word that fell from his lips. He could have ended it. The nightmare would finally be over. If Dean and Lynn hadn't tried to hold him back… well, the demon would be dead.

"Sam," Dean retorted. "The only thing you were going to end was your life."

Exactly the point. But Sam didn't say that. He just looked up at Dean – who had already turned his back on him – and said, "You don't know that."

Dean turned back on him, clearly pissed. "So, what? You're just willing to sacrifice yourself? Is that it?"

"Yeah," Sam snapped, getting to his feet. "You're damn right I am."

"Yeah, well, that's not going to happen, not as long as I'm around."

"What are you talking about?" Sam exclaimed. "We've been searching for this demon our whole lives! It's the only thing we've ever cared about!"

"Sam, I want to waste it, I do. Ok? But it's not worth dying over!"

"What?"

"I mean it! If hunting this demon means you getting yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing!"

Dean was glaring and furious, but Sam was angrier. He stared Dean down, his words coming too slow and too calm. "That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom."

There was a short, pregnant pause. Dean looked Sam right in the eye. "You said it yourself once. That no matter what we do, they're gone and they're never coming back."

Ever since the demon escaped, a quiet rage had been building inside Sam, and now he had finally reached the breaking point. He saw red, and he flew at his brother, grabbing dean by the lapels of his button-down and slamming him into the wall.

"_Don't you say that!_" he bellowed. "Don't you… not after all this! Don't you say that!"

His chest was heaving angrily. Dean just stared at him. 'Sam, look," he said. "The five of us – that's all we have."

Sam tried to hold onto his anger, but he could feel tears burning his eyes. He inhaled shakily, his grip on his brother's shirt slackening.

"It's all I have," Dean pushed. He sounded so _broken_. "Sometimes I feel like I'm barely holding it together, man. Without you and Dad…"

Sam took a deep breath, choking on the tears that were insisting on rolling down his cheeks. "Dad," he whispered, letting go of his brother and marching to the other side of the room. He paced, gripping the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself.

It didn't escape his notice that Dean had said the _five_ of us, and if he was being honest, that wasn't surprising. Sam, Dean, and their father – they were a family, but Jayne and Lynn had been in the thick of things with them for a while now, and it felt _right_, in a weird way. They were part of the unit now too, and that's why it hurt so much. Jayne and Lynn had left when they needed them. He and Dean _needed_ them, and they were gone.

"Dad should have called by now," he said out loud. "Try him again."

Dean didn't reply. He stared at a spot on the carpet, unseeingly, and then pulled out his phone to dial their dad for the hundredth time that night.

It was the worst possible time for Jayne and Lynn to have bailed on them, Sam realized. Something had definitely happened to their father, and now they were halfway to Kentucky, and he and Dean were alone.

He felt angry all over again and had to start pacing, taking huge, deep breaths, to keep from punching a hole in the wall.

"Where is he?"

Dean's low, raspy, demanding question immediately caught Sam's attention. He turned back to his brother, who met his eyes from across the room. They stood like that a full moment, and then Dean slowly slid the phone down from his ear and hung up, his eyes wide and frightened.

"They've got Dad."


	59. Devil's Trap

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

AN: Big thanks yous to ks90, AshlynPaige92, angeleyenc, greentoothbrush, deargoodbye, SPN Mum, Madcapmax, Nelle07, BlueEyedPisces, 69camaro and ColtFan165 for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 59: Devil's Trap

Dean wheeled the Impala recklessly onto the dark, empty road, tires squealing, and pumped the gas, tearing off down the highway and through the patches of fog coming off the marshy grass on either side of the road. He was clinging too tightly to the steering wheel, hunched over in his seat, his eyes darting frantically from one side of the road to the other. Ever since he'd hung up the phone on Meg, he'd felt physically sick.

_You're never going to see your father again_…

"We could have taken them, Dean," Sam spoke from the passenger seat, sounding every bit as moody and petulant as he had since they'd failed to kill the demon. He was still on about the damn demon and the freaking Colt. He wanted to stay in Salvation and let the demon come to them.

A very stupid idea. Dean wasn't having it.

"What we need is a plan," he said, pretending Sam hadn't spoken. "They'll be keeping Dad alive; we've just got to figure out where. They'll want to trade him for the gun."

Sam shook his head, scoffing under his breath.

"What?" Dean snapped.

"Dean, if that were true, why didn't Meg mention a trade?"

His stomach turned to stone, a cold hard rock sitting uncomfortably in his gut. "Dad," Sam pressed, shaking his head again. "He might be…"

"Don't," Dean cut him off severely.

"Look, I don't want to believe it anymore than you," Sam returned. "But if he is… all the more reason to kill this damn thing! We still have the Colt; we can still finish the job!"

"Screw the job, Sam!" Dean exploded. He'd had enough of that kind of talk. His head was spinning with fear and anger, and he kind of wanted to throw up. As it was? If Sam kept talking like that, Dean was going to punch him in the mouth.

"Dean, I'm just trying to do what he would want!" Sam argued. "He would want us to keep going!"

"Quit talking about him like he's dead already!" Dean barked. "Listen to me! Everything stops until we get him back. Do you understand me? _Everything_."

Sam fell silent, but the way he was still shaking his head and huffing under his breath made it clear he wasn't happy. Dean shook his head too, glaring at the road. Another wave of nausea swept through him.

"So how do we find him?" Sam asked.

"We go to Lincoln," Dean replied. "We start at the warehouse where he was taken."

"Come on, Dean, do you really think these demons are going to leave a trail?"

No, he didn't, not really. Dean swallowed, hard, trying to calm the jumping jittery feeling in his stomach. "You're right," he admitted. "We need help."

"I'll call Lynn."

"What?" Dean demanded, frowning briefly at his little brother. "I didn't mean them, Sam!"

"Why not?" Sam retorted. "They told us to call, Dean. They said if something happened to Dad…"

"Look, they have their own shit to deal with," Dean insisted. "They left a few hours ago anyway, and they're probably halfway to Kentucky by now!"

"So what?" Sam snapped. "They said they'd help! They told us to call!"

"And we will," Dean growled. "But they can't help us right now, not with this. We need someone who knows a lot more about demons than we do."

There was a short silence. Sam was staring at the dashboard, looking like a light bulb had just gone on over his head. "Bobby Singer," he said. It wasn't a question.

Dean nodded. "Bobby Singer," he affirmed.

* * *

It was early morning when the gray pickup finally rolled to a stop outside Hannigan's Pub. Jayne parked the truck on the side of the dead end dirt road, sighing as she shut down the ignition. On the other side of the road, her brother had parked his bright orange Superbird, which stood out obnoxiously from its dreary surroundings. The sun had just risen, casting gray light across the Hannigan property, and she could hear birds chirping in the trees nearby.

She hopped down from the cab and slammed the door behind her. Lynn met her by the back bumper and the two of them marched for the pub doors. Lynn's arms were folded tightly across her chest. "I feel guilty," her sister admitted in a small voice.

Jayne took a deep breath, the long front porch creaking under her weight as she reached the entrance. "We have to help Deedee. If something's happened to Rufus…"

"I know," Lynn cut her off. "But still."

Instead of answering, Jayne just sighed again and pushed open the door to the pub. It was dark inside, with only one light on behind the bar, and all the chairs were up on the tables. "Hello?" Jayne called. "Deedee? Steve?"

There was a small noise from behind the bar, and then Steve appeared with a coffee mug in his hand. "Hey," he greeted them, lifting the mug in their direction. "Coffee's fresh."

Lynn squealed and rushed around behind the bar, throwing her arms around Steve's neck. He groaned jokingly, hugging her back with one arm. "Good to see you too, Lynn."

Jayne smirked, coming around the counter too. Lynn pulled away and Steve opened his arms for a second hug. She embraced him briefly, and then leaned back against the counter. "When did you get in?" she asked.

"Few hours ago," Steve shrugged. "Deedee ought to be up soon."

"She managed to sleep?" Lynn asked incredulously. "Well… that's good."

Steve shrugged again, taking a gulp of his coffee. Jayne bent over the cooler under the liquor shelf and grabbed herself a beer. Steve snorted as she popped the cap and took a long swig. "Bit early for that, ain't it?"

Jayne glared at him. "You do _not_ want to be starting shit with me right now, kid."

He laughed, and then ducked his head. Lynn leaned against the counter, staring at the floor. Jayne took another sip of beer. "So… I'm guessing the demon…"

"Got away," Jayne grunted.

Steve didn't look surprised. He just nodded, lifting his coffee cup to his lips. They fell into a long, tense silence. Then Lynn sighed heavily and marched to the cooler, yanking out a beer of her own.

"You too?" Steve asked, raising his eyebrow.

Lynn shrugged. "Do you blame me?"

He sighed and put his coffee on the bar. "Fuck it," he said, grabbing the whiskey off the shelf and splashing a generous amount into his mug.

They fell silent again. It was way too early in the morning for beer, but Jayne drank heavily anyway.

"What happened to this magic gun?" Steve asked suddenly.

Jayne shrugged. "Dean has it."

"Are you kidding me?" Steve retorted. "You left it with the Winchesters?"

She nodded. Steve shook his head, slamming his coffee down on the counter. "Worst idea you've ever had," he announced. "You find a gun that can do what you _claim_ this Colt can do, you hold onto the damn thing!"

He was seriously annoyed with her, but Jayne didn't care. She shrugged again and gripped the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "I thought they might need it more," she replied. "John took off to give a fake version of the gun to this demon that was threatening us and… well, he never came back. They needed it more."

Her brother had nothing to say to that, but she could tell by the way he shook his head that he was still pissed. Jayne sighed and leaned her hip against the bar. "Any idea where Rufus disappeared to?"

"Nope," Steve returned, taking a huge gulp from his mug. "Deedee was practically hysterical when I got in."

"I'll bet," Lynn said, setting her beer gently on the counter.

"What exactly happened with the demon?" Steve pressed. "Did you find it? How'd it get away?"

"We found it all right," Lynn sighed. "Sam even got a shot off, but the thing just disappeared on us. You know, like a ghost. Then the house we'd traced it to went up in flames and we had to get out."

Steve nodded silently, studying the floor. "Good," he murmured. "The last thing I needed was you two killing yourselves going after the damn thing."

"Nice to know you care," Lynn smirked.

"Of course I care. Quit digging for compliments."

"Thing had yellow eyes," Jayne announced.

Steve gawked at her. Lynn took a swig of her beer. "Yellow eyes?" her brother repeated.

She nodded. "Yep. Yellow eyes. What do you make of that?"

There was a long silence as Steve absorbed the new information. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. "I don't know."

The back entrance to the bar creaked open just then, and all three of them whirled around. Deedee poked her curly red bob through the door, squinting into the dimly lit room.

"Hey, Deedee," Lynn greeted her.

Deedee stepped inside and shut the door gently behind her. She forced a smile and crossed the room. "Hey. Thanks for coming out."

"Not like we could say no," Jayne pointed out. "It's Rufus."

The petite, red-headed woman nodded, sliding a mug out from under the counter and grabbing the coffee pot. "Still, thanks. I appreciate it. I'm just… I'm worried."

Jayne watched her pour the coffee, drinking from her beer. Deedee leaned against the counter and took a sip of her coffee, wincing as it burned her mouth. "Where'd you find the car?" she asked.

"Out by Trevor's place," Deedee replied softly.

Lynn choked on a mouthful of beer. Jayne glanced her way, and then back at Deedee. "He went back out there?"

Deedee nodded. "Daddy was determined to hunt down whatever demon was responsible for Trevor's death. I mean, the whole town's pretty shook up about it. You know we don't get many murders out this way. Of course, Daddy and I are the only ones who know the truth about what did it."

Her voice caught on the last few words and she swallowed a gulp of coffee to hide it. Jayne watched Deedee blink furiously and take a deep, steadying breath. "It must have gotten to him," she finished.

Jayne wasn't so sure. Meg had supposedly killed Trevor, and last she checked Meg was in Lincoln, screwing with John. What could still be lurking in Stamping Ground that would have taken Rufus?

"I found sulfur around the car," Deedee was saying now. "I did a sweep of the area, but I couldn't find anything else." She took a deep breath, shaking her head and blinking furiously. "I don't know what to do."

She looked totally helpless, and it made Jayne's stomach clench. Her brother shifted uncomfortably by the counter, putting down his coffee cup. He darted a look at Deedee out of the corner of his eye, like he wanted to do something for her but he didn't know what.

"All right," Lynn spoke up, inhaling heavily. "Here's what we're going to do. You and I are going to do a little research, Deedee. We'll look for demonic omens in the area; see if we can't track whatever's hanging around town. Jayne and Steve will go driving around to see if they can find Rufus. They can start with Trevor's and move out from there. Sound like a plan?"

Deedee nodded, forcing a smile. She did look slightly relieved, Jayne noted. Lynn had taken charge of the situation and outlined a plan of action, which helped. Steve cleared his throat. "Sounds good," he announced. "Jaynie, let's go."

"Right behind you," Jayne agreed. The two of them marched out of the pub, calling goodbyes over their shoulders and leaving Lynn and Deedee alone in the bar. They crossed the dirt road to the Superbird. Steve slid behind the wheel of his car, and Jayne climbed into the passenger seat.

The engine turned over, and Steve's horrible music blared out the speakers. Jayne cringed at the sound of mainstream rap, giving him a sideways glare. Steve shrugged and smirked. "Don't be an old lady," he said, shifting out of park and turning around in the grass.

She flipped him off, and then folded her arms over her chest, slumping in her seat. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

The last time Sam had been to the Singer Salvage Yard, Bobby had chased his father off the property with a shotgun. It was for this reason that he doubted how welcome he and Dean would be when they showed up on Bobby's doorstep. The junkyard looked almost exactly the same now as it had then. His house was the same shade of blue, the grass was still patchy and brown, and there were still hubcaps hanging off the house's exterior walls. Rusted out, junked cars stretched as far as the eye could see. Parked by the front door was a large blue tow-truck, and Bobby's Rottweiler, Rumsfeld, was camped out on the hood, a long chain attached to his collar.

Surprisingly, Bobby had welcomed Sam and Dean into his house happily, claiming he'd be more than glad to help them find their father. That had been a couple hours ago, and now Sam was seated at a desk in Bobby's cluttered living room, leafing through one of the large demonology texts that filled the house from bottom to top. Behind him, the walls were papered with news clippings and drawings torn from old books.

Bobby's house looked the same, but Bobby didn't. The hair under his dirty baseball cap was gray, and so was his beard. The faded, grease-stained sweatshirt was stretched over a newly developed beer gut.

"Here you go," Bobby announced, drawing Sam's attention away from the book. He looked up to see the older man pass Dean a small metal flask.

"What is this, holy water?" Dean asked.

"That one is," Bobby replied, revealing a second metal flask still in his hand. "This is whiskey."

Sam smirked as Bobby took a drink. Dean scowled, and then took the flask from Bobby, sucking down a gulp of his own. "Bobby, thanks," Dean said. "Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure we should even come."

"Oh, come on. Your Daddy needs help."

"Yeah, but the last time we saw you, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. You cocked the shotgun and everything."

"Well, what can I say?" Bobby shrugged. "John just has that effect on people.

Sam smirked again from his corner of the room, his eyes scanning the odd symbols emblazoned on the page before him. "Yes, yes he does," Dean agreed, and Sam wondered if Dean was remembering what he was thinking about – Jayne threatening to hunt their father down like a dog if he even _tried_ taking the Colt and running with it.

He suddenly really missed Lynn and Jayne. He had a hunch that they would get along with Bobby really well.

"All that matters is that you get him back," Bobby was saying now.

It seemed like a good time to interrupt, judging by the tension in Dean's shoulders. "Bobby, this book," Sam said admiringly. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Key of Solomon?" Bobby asked, sauntering over to the desk. "It's the real deal all right."

"And these, uh… these protective circles, they really work?"

"Hell, yeah. Get a demon in one; they're trapped. Powerless. It's like a Satanic roach motel."

Sam laughed at that.

"Man knows his stuff," Dean added. Sam looked up, seeing his brother tuck his phone into his jacket before crossing the room.

"I'll tell you something else, too," Bobby went on. "This is some serious crap you boys stepped in."

"Yeah?" Sam asked. He couldn't help swallowing nervously. "How's that?"

"A normal year, I hear of, say, three demonic possessions? Maybe four tops?"

"Yeah?" Dean prompted.

"This year I've heard of twenty-seven. So far."

Again, Sam swallowed. He looked back down at the book. "You get what I'm saying?" Bobby pressed. "More and more demons are walking among us. A lot more."

"Do you know why?" Sam wanted to know.

"No," Bobby shook his head. "But I know it's something big. Storm's coming. And you boys? Your Daddy? You are smack in the middle of it."

The words barely had time to sink in when Bobby's dog started barking up a storm. "Rumsfeld," Bobby exclaimed, jumping to his feet as the dog let out a howl. All three of them peered out the shuttered window to see the chain broken, and the dog gone.

"Something's wrong," Bobby said.

That's when the door flew open, the wood frame splintering as the lock broke. Standing in the doorway was a petite blonde woman in a red leather jacket. Her hair was longer now than the last time Sam had seen her – almost past her chin – but it was undoubtedly Meg.

Sam tensed up behind the desk as the demon stalked into the room. Dean reached for the holy water.

"No more crap, ok?" Meg announced.

Dean marched right for her, holy water in hand. Meg flicked her wrist and, without even touching him, sent Dean flying across the room and into a stack of books. Sam watched his brother topple to the floor, swallowing painfully. Without thinking, he darted out from behind the desk and shoved Bobby behind him.

Meg glowered at him, tilting her head dangerously to the side. "I want the Colt, Sam," she said. "The real Colt. Right now."

Sam backed away, towards his fallen brother, dragging Bobby behind him. "We don't have it on us," he stalled. "We buried it."

Meg advanced on them, her dark eyes murderous. "Didn't I say no more crap?" she snapped. "I swear, after everything I've heard about you Winchesters, I've got to tell you I' m a little underwhelmed. First Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads. Lackluster, man."

They had backed all the way into the main living room and ended up against the fireplace. Sam's back hit the mantel, Bobby beside him, both of them staring at Meg, who officially had them cornered.

"I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find you?" she asked.

"Actually, we were counting on it."

Meg whirled around at Dean's voice, her expression growing angrier by the second. Sam looked up to see his brother leaning against the doorway, smirking at Meg. She glowered at him a moment, silent, until Dean slowly looked up at the ceiling, his smirk darker and more satisfied than Sam had ever seen before.

She followed his eyes. Sam smirked too as Meg belatedly realized her predicament. Painted on Bobby's living room ceiling was the large, ornate protective circle from the book on the desk: the Key of Solomon.

Both shocked and angry, Meg lowered her eyes and glared at Dean.

"Gotcha," Dean quipped.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky now, and Lynn rubbed her eyes, leaning back in her chair. She and Deedee were seated at a table in the Hannigan's bar, Lynn hunched over her laptop and Deedee perusing several newspapers she'd picked up from downtown. The bar was empty except for the two of them, Deedee having kept the _Closed_ sign on the door.

"I've got reports on lightening storms and cattle deaths," Deedee murmured. "Maybe something _is_ here."

Lynn nodded, keeping her eyes on her monitor. "Well, you did say Rufus found sulfur out at Trevor's."

"Mm-hmm."

They lapsed into silence again. Lynn drummed her fingers on the tabletop. There were a million things swimming in her head right now, and she was having a hard time focusing on one at a time. Rufus was missing, that was priority number one. The man had been around ever since she was small, and she and Jayne and Steve had practically grown up in this bar. They'd graduated from the local high school. After her father had died, Rufus had been a rock.

Now he was missing – he could be anywhere – and there was this panicked little voice whispering in her ear _find him, find him, find him…_

Lynn gave her head a shake and frowned at her laptop. Rufus was not the only man on her mind. The demon was still out there. It knew what they had planned for it. More importantly, its lackeys most likely had John, and Sam and Dean were probably freaking out.

She remembered her promise just then, and reached for her phone. She felt nothing but empty air and the smooth surface of the wooden table. Frowning, Lynn searched first the table, then her jeans, and then checked under her seat.

Her phone was missing. _Shit_. Lynn checked the pockets of her coat, which she had hung on the back of her chair. Nothing. "Deedee?" she asked, trying to keep the high pitched note of hysteria out of her voice. "Have you seen my phone?"

Deedee shook her head, looking up briefly from the newspaper. "No. Where'd you have it last?"

Lynn frowned, trying to think. "I'm not sure. Maybe the truck?"

Deedee shrugged. "Damn it," Lynn hissed, getting to her feet and grabbing the keys to the truck. "I can_not_ have lost my phone, not today. Shit, shit, _shit_!"

She stormed out of the bar and marched for the truck. If Jayne could see her now, Lynn was sure there would be hell to pay, but she honestly didn't give a damn. She flung open the truck door and began tearing apart the cab, searching under the seats and in the seats and behind the seats, rifling through the glove compartment and the cup holders, tossing trash and papers and other random things out of the truck and into the dirt road.

Several minutes and a totally trashed truck cab later, Lynn slumped to her knees in the dirt and slammed the cab door shut. Her phone was not in the truck, and it wasn't on her person, and she _never_ left the thing in her luggage. How the hell could she lose her phone _now_? Of all the possible times to lose the damn thing, she had to pick the worst one.

She leaned against the truck, sitting in the dirt and not caring that her jeans were getting dusty. In the cab, she'd found her lighter and a near empty pack of cigarettes. Trying to fight back against the tears stinging at her eyes, Lynn lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The burn tingled all the way down her throat and Lynn squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a tear pool on her eyelashes and drip down her cheek.

Honestly, she couldn't even imagine how things might get worse.

* * *

Dean leaned on the table in the corner of Bobby's living room, arms folded over his chest. Meg was still trapped in the circle, tied to a chair, but that didn't seem to wipe the smirk from her face. Sam stood behind him, hands tucked in his pockets. He could feel Sam's nervous energy bouncing off him, but Dean didn't care. The demon bitch in front of him knew where his father was, and he was going to make her talk, no matter what he had to do.

"If you wanted to tie me up," Meg drawled, still wearing that evil little smirk. "All you had to do was ask."

Neither Dean nor Sam responded. Bobby came out of the kitchen, a large canister in his hand. "I salted the doors and windows. If there are any demons out there, they ain't getting in."

Dean nodded and pushed himself off the table. Bobby took his seat, and Dean advanced on the smug little bitch sitting in front of him. She leveled her proud, amused, evil brown eyes at him. He smirked back. "Where's our father, Meg?"

"You didn't ask very nice," she replied in a sing-song voice.

"Where's our father, bitch?"

"Ooh, geez. You kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh, I forgot… you don't."

He lost it, marching towards the trapped demon. "Hey, you think this is a freaking game?" he bellowed angrily. "Where is he? What did you to do to him?"

"He died screaming," Meg returned. "I killed him myself."

Every muscle in his body tensed. Dean glowered at her, breathing heavily, his vision clouding. He couldn't control himself. He hauled off and backhanded the demon across the face. There was a satisfying _crack_ as his hand made contact with her face, but nothing was more satisfying than the pained yelp that escaped her lips.

She recovered quickly, though. "That's kind of a turn on," she said. "You, hitting a girl."

"You're no girl," he retorted.

Meg smirked up at him. "Dean," Bobby said suddenly, taking him by the arm. He let the older man drag him away, directing a murderous glare at the demon still in the chair. Sam followed them into the next room.

"You ok?" his brother asked.

"She's lying," Dean insisted. "He's not dead."

John Winchester could _not_ be dead. He wouldn't believe it until he saw the body for himself.

"You got to be careful with her," Bobby informed him. "Don't hurt her."

"Why?" Dean demanded.

"Because she really is a girl, that's why!"

"What are you talking about?" Sam frowned.

"That's a human possessed by a demon," Bobby said incredulously. "You can't tell?"

Dean frowned too, glancing back at Meg. The blonde woman leered at him. He returned his eyes to Bobby. "You trying to tell me there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there?"

Bobby nodded. Dean glanced at Meg again. "That's actually good news," he announced.

Mere seconds later, the three of them had a new plan. Dean reentered the room, Sam and Bobby following behind him, Sam carrying their father's journal. Meg raised an eyebrow. "You going to read me a story?" she asked in a little girl voice.

Dean smirked at her. "Something like that. Hit it, Sam."

His brother swallowed nervously, but Dean barely noticed. Slowly, Sam began to read aloud the Latin exorcism rite from the old, leather-bound journal.

Meg scoffed, turning amused eyes on Dean as Sam continued to read from the rite. "An exorcism?" she asked. "Are you serious?"

"Oh, we're going for it, baby," he spat. "Head spinning, projectile vomiting… the whole nine yards."

Sam continued reading. Suddenly, Meg flinched, squeezing her eyes shut and making a pained noise in the back of her throat. Dean smirked again. It was working.

Meg opened her eyes and glared at him. "I'm going to kill you," she said mildly. "I'm going to rip the bones from your body."

"No," Dean retorted. "You're going to burn in Hell – unless you tell us where our Dad is."

She just glared at him, panting, and said nothing. Dean shrugged. "Well, at least you'll get a nice tan. Sam?"

His brother stared at him. Dean stared back. Finally, Sam began to read again, pacing the room. Meg was shuddering violently, her breathing coming short and fast. "_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,_" Sam read._ "Omnis Satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute…_"

Meg cried out in pain, flinching. Sam stopped reading. "He begged for his life with tears in his eyes," Meg spat from behind her pained grimace. "He begged to see his sons one last time. That's when I slit his throat."

Dean felt cold. He stood still, staring numbly at the demon who was glaring up at him, panting and snarling. Sam began to read the rite again. Dean hunched over the chair, glaring into Meg's eyes. "For your sake, I hope you're lying," he hissed. "Because if it's true, I will march into Hell myself and slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God!"

Sam was still reciting and Meg was still flinching. A strong wind began to blow around the room, turning the pages of an open book on the desk. Dean paid the phenomenon no mind, but Sam hesitated, glancing nervously at the book even as he continued to read. As his brother chanted, Dean glowered down at the demon. Meg glared back, and then suddenly cried out again. Sam stopped.

"Where is he?" Dean demanded.

"You just won't take dead for an answer, will you?"

"_Where is he_?"

"Dead!" Meg shouted.

"_No, he's not!_" Dean thundered, losing it again as he leaned into her face. "He is _not_ dead! _He can't be!_"

Meg was still shaking and panting, but a small smirk played on her lips as she stared at Dean out of the corner of her eye. Dean tried to regain his composure, his chest heaving. Sam was staring at him.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped. "Keep reading."

Sam stared at him only a moment longer. Dean turned away, putting some distance between him and Meg. Sam got out only one more word of the rite.

"Hey, didn't there used to be more of you?" Meg interrupted breathlessly. There was a wry, knowing lilt to her otherwise raw and raspy voice. Dean paused in his pacing, and Sam stopped reading immediately. "A blonde girl? And a brunette?"

He could feel Sam's eyes on him, but Dean didn't look at him. He ignored the jibe. "Keep reading, Sam."

"Let me guess," Meg hissed, her voice pained. "They went to Kentucky, right?"

Dean stiffened, slowly turning his head towards the demon. Sam swallowed, glancing nervously at his brother. Meg was still wearing that evil little smirk, her eyes fixed on Dean. "That's right. I know," she taunted him. Somehow she was smirking even though her face was contorted with pain and a line of sweat had developed on her brow. "_We_ know. I bet the others are already halfway there. I wonder which one they'll kill first."

Dean clenched his fists at his sides. Meg seemed to gain better control over her shaking body as she took in the glower on his face. "I'll bet they do Blondie last," she cooed, still staring straight at Dean. He swallowed around the suddenly developing lump in his throat. "Nice and slow."

His fist was tightening, the muscles in his arm tensing, and it was all he could do not to haul off and slug the bitch again. He wouldn't hurt the demon, he tried to tell himself. He'd hurt the innocent girl that the evil skank was possessing.

"I bet Blondie will be _real_ fun to play with."

His stomach rolled. Dean snapped. His fist cocked and he nearly hit Meg again. Miraculously he pulled himself away, propelling his fist into the nearest stack of books and knocking them to the floor. Sam flinched, and Dean turned around, glaring at him.

"What the hell are you waiting for, Sam?" Dean demanded, ignoring his throbbing knuckles. Sam just stared at him. "_Read!_"

Sam dropped his eyes and began to read aloud the next passage of the rite. Dean turned on Meg, who was panting and sweating again. "I wonder how they'll kill her?" Meg pressed relentlessly, talking through the pain. "Same way I killed your Daddy?"

Dean glowered at her, frozen in place, trying desperately not to do something he'd regret. Sam faltered, but kept reciting the exorcism. Meg groaned and rolled her eyes, twisting her head sharply to glare at Sam. "They'll finish off the brunette first," she hissed, her eyes large and black now, and fixed intently on Sam. "She won't last long. Looks like the sort that cries easy."

Sam stopped reading. Dean watched him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing noticeably. He turned to Dean with big eyes, his grip loosening on the journal.

Meg grimaced. She lifted her head with great effort and delivered a shaky smirk at Sam. "Let's hope I'm wrong. Let's hope she lasts, and they can take their time."

"Keep reading, Sammy," Dean ordered.

"Yeah, Sammy," Meg whispered, still wearing that shaky smirk.

Sam looked helplessly from Meg, to the book, and then back at Dean. "_Read, damn it!_" he shouted at his brother. Sam flinched again, but did as ordered, reading from the rite. The wind picked up again, and Meg returned to groaning wordlessly, her head lolling.

Dean was shaking, and he could feel a stinging in his eyes. He glowered down at Meg, who glared at him. She was just a demon – demons lie. He had to hold onto that – he could not let her get under his skin.

Except she already had. So now he had to hide it.

Meg cried out loudly, and the chair she was tied to moved of its own accord, the legs squeaking on the hardwood floor. Dean glanced at his brother, who paused only briefly in his reading before going ahead and continuing the rite.

The chair jerked noisily all around the floor, never leaving the circle. Meg groaned and screamed and shook with the chair as it darted around, scraping to a stop, and then starting up again.

"He's not dead!" she shouted suddenly.

"Wait!" Dean exclaimed, pouncing on the words. He waved at his brother to stop. "What?"

"He's not dead," Meg breathed, her hair sticking up wildly as she glowered up at him. "But he will be after what we do to him."

His stomach turned again, half in relief and half in fear. "How do we know you're telling the truth?"

Meg was panting heavily, and her eyes were tired as she looked up at him. "You don't."

"Sam!" Dean barked.

"A building!" Meg cried out before Sam could start reading again. "Ok? A building in Jefferson City."

"Missouri?" Dean demanded. "Where? _Where_? An address!"

"I don't know!"

"The demon?" Sam asked. "The one we're looking for? Where is it?"

"I don't know, I swear!" Meg insisted. "That's everything! That's all I know!"

There was a long silence in the room, broken only by Meg's heavy breathing. Dean stared at her for a moment. "Finish it," he ordered.

"What?" Meg exclaimed. "I told you the truth!"

"I don't care."

"You son of a bitch, you promised!"

"_I lied_!"

He leaned in her face, glowering. She glared right back, every line in her face swearing retribution. "Sam," Dean prompted. His brother did not start reading again. Dean tore his eyes from Meg and glared at his brother instead. "Sam! Read."

Sam grabbed Dean by the shirt. "We can still use her," he insisted. "Find out where the demon is."

"She doesn't know!"

"She lied!"

"Sam, there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there and we've got to help her!"

"You're going to kill her."

It was Bobby who spoke, coming in from the other room. Dean and Sam turned to the older man in surprise. He'd made himself scarce during the exorcism, but now he had something to say. Dean frowned at him. "What?"

"You said she fell from a building," Bobby reminded him. "That girl's body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside." Dean stared at him. Bobby pushed right along. "You exorcise it? That girl is going to die."

"Listen to me," Dean snapped. "Both of you! We are not going to leave her like that!"

"She is a human being!" Bobby insisted.

"And we're going to put her out of her misery!" Dean retorted.

There was another silence. Dean peeled his glare away from Bobby and leveled it at Sam instead. His little brother was glowering back just as hard. "Sam, finish it," Dean ordered.

Sam glared at him a moment longer. He glanced back at the demon, looking torn. "Finish it!" Dean said again.

His brother still looked reluctant and pissed off, but he took the book and began to read again. As the Latin rite echoed through the room, Meg began to groan and quake all over again. The wind blew through the room once more, howling all around them and scattering papers everywhere. Dean watched the demon writhe in the trap, his stomach turning over. It was the right call, he told himself. Dead or not, the girl would be better off without a demon inside of her. He made the right call.

"_Benedictus Deus!_" Sam bellowed over the roaring wind and the moaning demon. "_Gloria Patri!_"

Meg screamed, her head snapping back in the chair. As the three hunters gawked at her, a cloud of black smoke came funneling out through her mouth, billowing up at the ceiling. She was still screaming as the black smoke emptied her body and vanished, electricity crackling against the ceiling as the demon was sent back to Hell.

The blonde girl's head tipped forward. For a long moment, she didn't move or make a sound. Dean swallowed, his stomach rolling over, certain that she was dead. He had killed her – he was guilty, he'd insisted…

_He made the right call… he made the right call…_

Blood dribbled from the girl's mouth and nose, landing with a splash on the floor. Sam gasped, staring at the girl with wide horrified eyes. Dean looked over at Bobby, whose eyes were fixed on Meg.

Slowly, she lifted her head.

"She's alive!" Dean exclaimed in disbelief. "Uh… call 911! Get some water and blankets!"

He rushed to the girl's side as Sam knelt on the other end of the chair. Together they untied her as quickly as possible. Bobby vanished into the back of the house. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Shh," Sam shushed her. "Take it easy, all right?"

The ropes came undone and hit the floor. "Let's get her down," Dean ordered. He and Sam each took a side and lifted her as gently as they could. She cried out in pain, and then choked.

"It's ok," Dean whispered, even though he knew that was bullshit. Slowly, he and Sam lowered her to the floor and laid her down flat. She choked and gasped and whimpered all the way down as Sam cradled her neck, bringing her head to rest on the ground and whispering comforting nonsense the whole time.

She was struggling to breathe and Dean couldn't tear his eyes from the blood on her face. "A year," she panted. "It's been a year."

"Shh," Sam murmured. "Just take it easy."

Dean's stomach twisted inside him. He swallowed, hard, knowing Sam was right – the girl needed to lay still and rest quietly. But he couldn't let her.

"I've been awake for some of it," she choked out. "I… I couldn't move my own body. The… the things I've seen… it's… a nightmare."

"Was it telling us the truth about our Dad?" he asked.

Sam glared him. "Dean," he scolded.

"We have to know," Dean retorted.

"Yes," the girl whispered. "But… it wants… you to know. It… they want you to come for him."

He nodded. "If Dad's still alive, none of that matters."

Bobby rushed into the room just then, holding a water glass and some blankets. Dean took the glass and Sam took one of the blankets, tucking it under her neck like a pillow. Bobby shook out the other blanket and draped it over her. Dean brought the glass to her lips, and she took a small drink, choking again.

"Where is the demon we're looking for?" Sam asked, cradling her head in one hand.

"Not there," she replied breathlessly, still panting and choking. "Other ones. Awful ones."

Sam glanced at him. Dean swallowed, hating himself even as he continued to question the dying the girl. "Where are they keeping our Dad?"

"By… the river… Sunrise…"

That was it. She stopped talking abruptly, her eyes boring holes into his. Dean frowned down at her. "Sunrise?" he repeated. "What does that mean?"

She just stared at him, her eyes dull and empty. "What's that mean?" he asked again.

Still nothing. She didn't speak or move, she just kept staring at him with her glassy eyes. Sam made a pained face beside him, his lip trembling. Bobby stared helplessly down at the lifeless girl on his living room floor. The reality sank in fast. She was dead. She was dead, and her big, empty dead eyes were staring at him. It was like she was accusing him of something, the way her eyes bored relentlessly into his. Dean swallowed, knowing it was his fault. She was dead because they'd let her fall out of that building, because they'd failed to recognize what was really wrong with her, because he'd insisted on finishing that exorcism.

He didn't even have an exact location on his father to show for it.

For a long time, all three men sat on the floor, staring at Meg's lifeless body. After a bit, Bobby got to his feet and cleared his throat. Dean lifted his eyes and stared up at the older man. Slowly, he got to his feet too, Sam following behind them.

"You boys better beat it before the paramedics get here," Bobby said, walking them towards the exit.

Dean still couldn't quite wrap his head around everything that was happening. "What are you going to tell them?" he asked in concern.

"You think you guys invented lying to the cops?" Bobby retorted. "I'll figure something out. Here, take this." He handed the large book that diagramed the protective circles to Sam. "You might need it."

"Thanks," Sam murmured, taking the book.

"Thanks," Dean agreed, nodding. "For everything. You be careful, all right?"

"You boys just find your dad," Bobby replied. "And when you do? You bring him around, would you? I won't even try to shoot him this time."

They nodded at the weak joke. Sam led the way out of the house, and Dean followed on his heels. He spared Bobby one last grateful smile, and then shut the door behind him. As he headed for his Impala, parked next to the large tow truck, Dean dug his cell phone from his jeans and dialed Jayne's number.

It was the third time that morning he'd called her. And for the third time that morning, the call went straight to voicemail.

He swallowed hard, leaving a brief message and then hanging up. He slid behind the wheel of the car, slamming the door behind him. Meg's words were replaying in his mind… _I'll bet they do Blondie last. Nice and slow…_

Dean gave his head a shake, one hand gripping the steering wheel too tightly. Demons lie, he reminded himself, turning the key in the ignition. Sam, already seated in the car, stared at him. "Did you get her?" he asked, knowing instinctively who Dean had been trying to call.

Dean shook his head, steering the car out of the junkyard. "Nope."

They were silent all the way to the highway.

* * *

Jayne leaned on the passenger door of her brother's Superbird, staring out the window at the trees and farms that flew past. Steve's terrible rap music was still blasting on his stereo, and her brother was rapping right along with it, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Jayne rolled her eyes and sighed.

"His truck wasn't there," she spoke up. "Deedee said it had been abandoned by Trevor's place, but we couldn't find it."

"Nope," Steve agreed, eyes trained on the road. He went right back to rapping. She grimaced. He was terrible at it.

"Well, what the hell does that mean?" Jayne pressed. "Where's the truck? Did he come back for it? Is he ok? Or did whatever take him, take the truck too?"

Steve shrugged. "Maybe it got towed."

Jayne sighed harshly. "I don't feel like you're taking this seriously."

He smirked at her, and she glared back. Trevor's place had left a distinct impression on her, and Jayne was glad Lynn had stayed at the pub. The house had felt creepy the moment she'd walked through the door, and she'd found the sulfur Rufus had mentioned almost immediately. Worst of all, no one had cleaned the place up yet – it was still a crime scene, after all – and the evidence of Trevor's murder had been all over the kitchen. Blood spackled the white linoleum floor, and had even splashed on the cabinets. She could see the chair they'd found Trevor sitting in, left in exactly the same position. Yellow tape had hung everywhere.

"Well, so far we've got nothing," Steve announced, restarting the conversation. "The truck's gone, the house hasn't been touched since the murder, and there's nothing on the property. We've been driving around for hours, and nothing looks remotely suspicious. There's no sulfur, no omens, and I haven't heard a blip on the EMF. Let's head back to the bar because I need a fucking drink."

Jayne sighed. "Yeah, ok. Has it really been hours?"

Steve nodded. "Fuck," Jayne muttered. "Where's my phone? They should have called by now."

"Who?"

"Dean and Sam. Their Dad was still missing when we left, and I've been expecting to hear from them ever since we got on the road." Jayne began searching the car around her – in the seat, under the seat, in the pocket on the door…

"Hey," Steve said.

"I don't understand where my fucking phone is!" she growled, ignoring his attempt to get her attention. "Did I not bring the thing with me?"

"Wouldn't know," Steve said shortly. "Listen, about the…"

"I can't believe this," she grumbled, still rifling around the car. "Of all the days to lose my cell…"

"Would you forget about the goddamn phone for five fucking minutes!" Steve exclaimed. "I'm trying to ask you something."

Jayne sighed harshly and ceased in her search, glaring at him. "What?"

"What happened with the demon?"

Immediately, Jayne went from annoyed to uncomfortable. "I told you. It got away."

"You didn't give me the details," Steve retorted, shrugging. "What went down in Iowa, Jaynie?"

She really had no interest in talking about Iowa. Iowa had been nothing but a colossal failure that had ended in a very much alive demon, a missing John Winchester, and two young men who'd been counting on her getting seriously disappointed when she'd decided to bail on them in their time of need.

Damn self-inflicted guilt trip.

"Nothing went down," she said out loud. "We staked out the house in question, the demon showed up and we went in to kill it. Sam shot at it with the Colt, but it vanished. It didn't possess anyone – it was in its natural form. I don't know. It vanished, the nursery went up in flames, and we got out of there."

Steve nodded slowly, his eyes on the road. "I don't know what to say," Jayne went on quietly. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

She shrugged. "Letting you down. We should have killed that thing."

"I should have been there," Steve retorted. "Let's not start playing the blame game, because we'll both lose."

Jayne sighed and returned to searching for her phone. Steve didn't say another word. A few minutes later, the Superbird rolled to a stop in front of Hannigan's Pub. She still hadn't found her phone, and had to concede that it was probably in the bar with her things. Sighing again, she followed her brother into the building. Lynn's laptop was sitting on one of the tables by the counter, but neither Lynn nor Deedee were anywhere to be found.

"I'm going to look for everyone else," Steve announced.

"I'm going to look for my phone," Jayne replied tiredly.

Steve nodded and disappeared into the back. Jayne poked through her coat and her duffel bag, still sitting on the far end of the room, on a table by the jukebox. The harder she searched, the more furious she got. Where the hell was her goddamn phone?

She needed to find it. There was no telling what might have happened to Sam and Dean in the past few hours, or to their father. She's promised she was going to help them, and at the very least, she needed to know how things were going for them. This could _not_ be happening.

Jayne fisted her hands in her hair, squeezing her eyes shut and mentally retracing her steps. Out of the truck, up to the bar, dropped her stuff at the back…

She opened her eyes and walked along the wall, eyes scanning the floor, and sidled up alongside the window. There she stopped sort. There was a pile of yellow dust on the windowsill, where the seam hit the wood. Frowning, Jayne poked her finger into the dust and lifted it to her nose. The unmistakable stench of rotten eggs filled her nostrils.

Sulfur.

Her stomach turned and she shook the sulfur frantically from her finger. She forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to calm the anxious, somersaulting feeling in her gut.

"Looking for this?"

Jayne whirled at the voice, finding Deedee leaning on the front of the bar and waving her cell phone at her. Swallowing, Jayne forced an easygoing smile.

"Yeah," she said rather breathlessly. "Wondered where that got to. Thanks."

She held out her hand for the phone, but just as she feared, Deedee did not hand it over. Jayne shrugged, walking around the back of the counter, stopping near the register and holding out her hand again. "My phone?" she asked.

"It's not there," Deedee said.

Jayne's other hand was under the counter, searching for the holy water. Her fingers found nothing, and at Deedee's words she froze. There was an odd, sly smirk on Deedee's face, and her voice sounded slightly different.

"What's not there?" she asked casually.

"The holy water," Deedee returned. "I got rid of that first thing."

Jayne swallowed, forcing herself to seem confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Quit playing dumb," Deedee spat, and it was then that her whole demeanor changed. Jayne didn't see her childhood friend standing in front of her anymore – she looked like Deedee, but she was someone else entirely. "We both know what's going on here, _Goldilocks_."

She took a deep breath. "Deedee," she whispered.

"Deedee's not in right now," the redhead sneered. As Jayne stood there, staring, Deedee's light hazel eyes turned big, black and empty.

Jayne darted around the corner of the bar, but it didn't matter. Suddenly, an invisible force was propelling her into the back wall of the tavern and pinning her there, right beside the jukebox. She struggled against her confinement, but it was no use. She couldn't move.

Deedee was still smirking, sashaying towards her with a devilish glint in those big black demon eyes. She wagged the phone at her. "Someone's been missing you," she announced. "You've got a lot of missed calls on this thing."

Jayne swallowed. Deedee – the demon – whoever she was carelessly tossed the phone onto a nearby table. "It's been awhile, Barbie Doll," she drawled. "Got to say, it hurts that you don't recognize me."

She heard it again – the odd, off note to Deedee's voice. It was vaguely like a Southern accent. Jayne frowned as the demon sauntered closer, her smirk growing. "Then again, fair enough. I am wearing your childhood friend."

"Who the hell are you?" Jayne demanded, even though she had a sinking suspicion about the answer.

"Think, buttermilk. Think really hard."

"I sent you to Hell," Jayne retorted.

The demon shrugged. "And I clawed my way out."

"Faye," she said definitively.

"Aw, shucks," Faye grinned. "You remember my name."

"What the fuck did you do to Rufus?" Jayne spat.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I'm going to get off this wall eventually. And then I'm going to kill you."

"I don't think so," Faye returned, her voice turning airy and a little too quiet. "How are you to going kill me when my friends get their hands on the Colt?"

Jayne tensed up, swallowing hard. Faye grinned wider. "That's right, Barbie. Your friends are marching into a trap right now, as we speak. My friends are going to take that gun – and then they're going to kill every last Winchester on the planet."

The world tilted on it axis, just a little. Jayne felt sick to her stomach. She tried to leap off the wall, but nothing happened. Glowering at the demon in front of her, Jayne shook her head. "If you hurt them…"

"I ain't going to hurt them," Faye retorted. "Someone will, but it ain't going to be me."

"You fucking bitch."

"Hey, hey, hey," Faye wagged her finger. "Language."

She tried to move again, her head spinning with increasing frustration at every failed attempt. "I've been waiting a long time for this," Faye was saying now. "Getting you and your family alone. I _begged_ to be the one who disposed of you. After what you three did to me – where you three _sent_ me – killing you slow and painful is the least I can do."

"Where's your friend?" Jayne sneered. "Lurking around, I suppose?"

"Guess again," Faye replied. "Randy's standing guard over John Winchester. Any minute now, I bet he'll be ripping the spine out of your boyfriend's back."

Jayne fought harder to get off the wall, finally giving up and resting the back of the head against the wall, shaking her head. She tried to ignore the stinging in her eyes, glowering at the demon in front of her. "I'm going to kill you," she said again. "Just you wait. I'm going to kill you and all your little friends. I don't care what it takes."

Faye smirked again. But before she could make what Jayne was sure would be another smartass comment, a startled cry sounded from behind her. The sound of running footsteps came from the front of the bar. Jayne craned her neck, fighting against the invisible force pinning her to the wall, trying to see what was going on behind Deedee.

Suddenly, there was a loud _thump!_ Lynn, who had appeared behind the bar mere moments earlier, was now up against the wall to the demon's right, struggling to free herself. Jayne grimaced, banging her head against the wall at the now twice as desperate situation.

"Jaynie?" Lynn asked.

"It's ok," Jayne said immediately, knowing that the words weren't true.

"Hey!"

Her brother's voice came from the back next. Steve came running out of the back room, rushing straight for Faye with a flask of holy water in his hand. Faye merely flicked her wrist, and the holy water went flying from his hand. Steve dodged the demon's grip, and sparks suddenly flew from the coffee machine behind the bar. A small fire started around the electric cord, and then Steve went flying into the wall, pinned between the front door and the window.

Faye snickered, glancing at the tiny, spluttering flames by the coffeemaker. "Fire?" she asked incredulously. "Really, Steve-O? I'm a demon. I can handle a little fire."

Jayne flinched, watching her brother struggle against the force keeping him pinned to the wall. "Do your worst, Pyro. Something tells me you don't want to light the little woman on fire."

Steve glared at her, falling silent. Lynn glanced at Jayne, her panicked eyes reflecting the hopelessness of the situation. Jayne wrenched her gaze away, turning another glower on the demon in the center of the room. Faye smiled big as she surveyed her handiwork.

"Looks like I caught all my rats in my trap," she announced, placing her hands on her hips. "This is shaping up to be an excellent afternoon."

* * *

Sam frowned out the windshield as Dean parked the Impala outside an abandoned construction site in Jefferson City. A large metal scaffolding several stories high loomed over the car, standing out starkly against the clear blue sky. Construction equipment lay scattered on the other side of a wire mesh fence, caked with mud. On the other side of the car, high overhead was the expressway they'd just exited. Dean shut down the engine and Sam sighed, glancing down at the book in his lap.

Dean dug his phone out of his jeans and dialed for what felt like the thousandth time since they'd pulled out of Sioux Falls. Sam had made a few calls himself, and left Lynn one voicemail, but he hadn't managed to get a hold of her.

It made him nauseous.

His brother must have gotten Jayne's voicemail yet again, because he barked into the receiver, "Damn it, Goldilocks, answer your fucking phone!"

Sam stared at his brother as Dean hung up violently and shoved the phone into his pocket. Then Dean flung open the car door, got out, and slammed the door shut behind him. The resounding _bang_ echoed all through the construction site.

Sighing, Sam climbed out of the car too. Dust billowed around his sneakers as his feet hit the ground. Dean had popped the trunk and was selecting weapons for the impending battle.

They stood out in the deserted area, not talking. Sam leafed through the book Bobby had given him, and Dean began cleaning and loading his chosen guns.

When the silence became unbearable, Sam broke it. "You've been quiet."

Dean shrugged and didn't look at him. "Just getting ready."

Sam stared at him, but he still didn't look up. "He's going to be fine, Dean."

No answer. Sam shook his head, a small, sad smile tugging at his lips. He looked back down at the book, and then sighed, digging his cell phone out of his coat. Maybe he'd accidentally left the thing on silent, he reasoned. Maybe he'd missed Lynn's call.

The phone was not on silent. It wasn't even on vibrate. And no one had called.

"What's the plan?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Go in," Dean retorted. "Get Dad. Get out."

"I meant after," Sam replied. "After we get Dad. You heard Meg, Dean. And they haven't been answering our calls…"

"They're fine!" Dean snapped, finally looking up from the bag he was loading with guns. Sam blinked, wincing slightly at the way his brother was glaring at him. "You hear me? Demons lie, Sam. They probably just… they're just looking for Rufus."

Sam nodded. Dean looked down into the trunk of the car again. Sam didn't buy it for a moment. He didn't care how busy Lynn was, or how difficult finding Rufus had turned out to be – she'd _promised_ to help them. There was no way either stepsister would ignore their calls.

"We just have to get Dad," Dean spoke up suddenly. Sam frowned at him in surprise, but Dean was refusing to look at him again. "We get Dad and we get the hell out of Dodge. If we haven't heard from them by then, we head for the Hannigan place and we go get them too."

There was a long silence. Dean kept his head down, and Sam stared at him. Finally, Sam nodded again, even though Dean probably couldn't see him. "Ok," he agreed.

They lapsed back into silence. Sam continued scanning the book he'd balanced on the hood of the Impala. He could hear the sounds cars speeding down the expressway above his head, and the occasional honking of a truck horn. Sam flipped the page in the book. On the other side was another diagram. This one looked like a star inside of a circle inside of a triangle. Frowning, he read the description beside it, twirling the long white drawing pencil in his hand. Struck with sudden inspiration, he marched to the open trunk of the car, brushed the dirt off with his sleeve, and set about drawing the symbol onto the trunk.

Dean glanced up at him, and instantly marched to his side, glowering. "Dude, what are you drawing on my car?"

It figured _this_ would be what snapped Dean out of his funk. Sam barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "It's called a devil's trap," he explained. "Demons can't get through it or inside it."

"So?"

"It basically turns the trunk into a lockbox."

Sam finished the drawing and headed for the other side of the trunk to draw another devil's trap on that end too. Dean rubbed at the symbol, and then glared at Sam again. "So?" he repeated.

"So, we have a place to hide the Colt while we go get Dad."

"What are you talking about?" Dean retorted. "We're taking the Colt with us."

"We can't, Dean," Sam returned. "We've only got three bullets left. We can't just use them on any demon; we've got to use them on _the_ demon."

"No," Dean growled, coming around the bumper. "We have to save Dad, Sam. We're going to need all the help we can get."

"Do you know how pissed Dad would be if we used all the bullets? Dean, he wouldn't want us to bring the gun."

"I don't care, Sam!" Dean exploded. "I don't care what Dad wants! Ok? And since when do you care what Dad wants?"

"We want to kill this demon!" Sam exclaimed, both confused and furious with his brother. Why couldn't Dean see sense? "You used to want that too! Hell, I mean, you're the one who came and got me at school!"

Dean gave a bitter, scoffing laugh, hanging his head. "You're the one who dragged me back into this, Dean!" Sam pressed on. "I'm just trying to finish it!"

He finished his piece, breathing heavily. Dean shook his head, staring at the car, and Sam stared at him, his brow furrowed, waiting for him to explain himself. Finally, Dean looked up. "Well, you and Dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that? You both can't wait to sacrifice yourselves for this thing! But you know what? I'm going to be the one to bury you!"

Sam looked away. Dean didn't get it. Jessica was _gone_. The demon _had_ to die, and if Sam had to sacrifice himself to bring that thing down…

"You're selfish, you know that?" Dean said. "You don't care about anything but revenge."

Sam shook his head. "That's not true, Dean."

Dean scoffed.

"I want Dad back," Sam insisted. "But they are expecting us to bring this gun. They get the gun, they will kill us all. That Colt is our only leverage, and you know it, Dean. We cannot bring that gun."

Dean shook his head. "We can't," Sam pressed.

"Fine."

"I'm serious, Dean!"

"I said fine, Sam!"

The two of them glared at one another for a moment. Then Dean made a production out of pulling the Colt from his jacket and putting it in the trunk. Sam stared at him, not amused, as Dean smirked at him. It was an angry smirk, and it faded back into a glower almost immediately. Still pissed, but satisfied that the Colt was safe, Sam stalked away to the front of the car to get the rest of the things they'd need.

Dean didn't have to like it, but the Colt had to be kept safe. They'd save their father first, but Sam wasn't giving up on killing that demon.


	60. Bad Moon Rising

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

AN: Big thanks yous to ElizabethJohns, ks90, angeleyenc, SPN Mum, Evenlight, BlueEyedPisces, 69camaro, Nelle07, ColtFan165, Spelllesswonder29, , Joan J, and SevenYearsLong for all the reviews! Especially Spelllesswonder29 – you made my day. I came home from work that day and discovered twenty new reviews all at once! Made me laugh.

Thanks again everyone, you're all awesome! And patient. ;) This chapter took a while to get out, huh? I don't know why, but it totally kicked my ass. Good news: two more chapters to go!

* * *

Chapter 60: Bad Moon Rising

Their situation was hopeless, Lynn concluded.

She frowned about the room, her stomach turning over. Lynn might have come late to the game, but she still knew the score. Deedee was possessed, and now the evil skank inside her had Lynn and her siblings up against the walls of the tavern, bound by an invisible force, and completely at her mercy.

Deedee paced the tavern floor, a gleam in her black eyes as she surveyed the three hunters. "Remember me?" she asked Steve. "Your sister does."

"I don't give a fuck who you are," Steve retorted. "I'm going to send your ass back to Hell where it belongs."

"Ooh," the demon taunted him. "Good luck with that. By the way, Randy says hi."

Lynn swallowed at the name, suddenly realizing who they were dealing with. "You," she whispered. "But we…"

"I know," Faye smirked brightly. "Your sister said the same thing. You sent me to Hell. Well, now I'm back bitches, and I'm pissed."

"Faye," Steve frowned. "You again? _Seriously_?"

"Serious like a heart attack, Steve-O," Faye drawled. She winked at him and then turned on Lynn. "Been a long time, brown sugar."

"What do you want?" Lynn demanded.

"Thought I was pretty clear on that front," Faye smirked. "Revenge, obviously."

Lynn swallowed again, glancing all around the room. This was bad – _so_ bad. She took a deep breath and turned towards Jayne. Her sister was glaring at the demon with Deedee's face, but the demon wasn't looking back at her. Faye had returned her attention to Steve. "So which one of you wants to be first?" she simpered.

Steve glared at her. "Fuck you."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Faye hissed. "I _am_ wearing your ex-girlfriend."

"I swear, if you don't get the hell out of her…"

"You'll what?" Faye snorted. "Set the cash register on fire next? Oh, boy, am I scared now."

Lynn tried to calm her dancing stomach with another deep breath, but to no avail. She glanced at the still smoking and sparking coffeemaker. Faye sashayed closer to Steve, and even though she couldn't see the demon's smirk anymore, she'd bet good money it was still plastered across Deedee's face.

"She still loves you, you know," Faye cooed, tilting her head to the side. "She's screaming at me in here, begging me not to hurt you."

"Shut up," Steve snapped.

"She's talking to you too. Crying out for help. So sad."

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

Faye's voice got high and mocking. "_Oh, Steve! Won't you please save me?_"

Lynn swallowed down her disgust, glaring at the back of Deedee/Faye's head. Her brother's face was murderous and he struggled against the invisible force pinning him to the wall. "I can't wait to send you back to Hell," he spat.

She giggled. "Whenever you're ready."

Steve was silent, still glowering at Faye. She turned away from him, a tiny smile playing on Deedee's lips, and studied first Lynn, then Jayne. "Let me see," she said in a sing-song voice. "Who do I want to kill the most?"

"I'm going to go ahead and guess me," Jayne spoke up, smirking at the demon. Lynn stared at her sister, shaking her head, but Jayne didn't look her way. "I _am_ the one who _literally_ sent you to Hell, so…"

"Very true, Barbie doll," Faye agreed. "Plus, you're being so self-sacrificing right now. It's annoying the piss out of me."

Lynn turned away from Jayne, not wanting to see what Faye would do to her. She turned her eyes toward the counter instead, watching the coffeemaker continue to spark and burn. The flames were tiny and nonthreatening, but the stench of burning plastic was enough to make her gag.

She heard Steve cry out in pain. Wide-eyed, Lynn looked his way in horror, seeing him wincing and hanging his head. Faye hauled off and slugged him in the stomach, for what Lynn assumed was the second time. He groaned.

"Stop it!" Jayne bellowed. "You stupid bitch, I am going to fucking…"

"In case you haven't figured it out," Faye interrupted. "Every time you make me mad, I'm gonna fuck with one of your beloved siblings. So shut your pretty little mouth."

She smirked at Jayne, tilting her head to the side. Lynn swallowed, not liking the look on Deedee's face. Her sister glared back at the demon, not saying a word. Faye strode forward on Deedee's legs, still smirking maliciously as she drew nearer to Jayne. "You really thought it was going to be over, didn't you? That you could send me to the pit and I'd never find a way out? Never come looking for you? Never want revenge? Sweet Pea, do you have any idea who I am? Who I _work_ for? You were fucked the moment I set my sights on your baby brother. All three of you were fucked."

"I don't know about that," Lynn spoke up breathlessly. Faye turned her empty black eyes on her. "We beat you once. I bet we could do it again."

"Look at brown sugar, trying to be all brave," the demon cooed. "Did you not see how the chips just fell? You're pinned to that wall, and you ain't getting off it. I'm in charge, now. No one's gonna come for you."

"Don't bet on it," Lynn spat. "We've got people expecting us. People who are going to come looking for us."

"People who have demon-killing guns, maybe?" Faye snorted. "You might as well give up on the Winchesters. Ain't no help coming from that corner. Why, I'd bet good money at least one of them is already dead."

"Keep laughing, bitch," Jayne snarled. "You're going back to the pit, I promise you."

Faye sneered, closing in on her. Lynn struggled fruitlessly against her invisible restraints. "Somehow, I don't think that's going to happen."

The demon's fist cracked against Jayne's face. Lynn flinched as her sister grunted in pain. "That all you got?" Jayne tossed back.

There was another loud crack as the demon's fist made contact with Jayne's flesh. Lynn heard her sister hiss at the painful impact. "Stop it!" Lynn exclaimed.

"But I'm just getting started," Faye returned impishly.

"You're going to regret this," Jayne growled.

"I doubt that," Faye smirked. "Do you want to know what's going on with your little boyfriend right now?"

"Fuck you."

"By now, he and his little brother have got a location on good old John," Faye pressed mercilessly. Lynn stared at the back of the demon's head, her eyes stinging. "And they're rushing to save him. But it's too late."

Lynn bit her lip, her nose suddenly tingling and her eyes burning. Jayne glared evenly back at the smirking demon in front of her. "There are demons waiting for them," Faye cackled. "And they're going to kill them. Slowly, painfully, mercilessly… the same way I'm going to kill you. After everything the six of you have put me and my family through… well, let's just say it's less than you deserve."

"Family?" Steve asked hoarsely. "You roaches have family? That's… hilarious."

"Shut up, you little bitch," Faye snapped. "You have been the biggest pain in the ass. Do you know what a giant mistake you are?"

Steve grinned at her. "Aw, yeah, but I'm my Mommy's favorite."

"How the hell would you know?" Faye retorted. "Ain't your Mommy dead?"

"What makes you think your so-called family's going to come out on the other side of all this?" Lynn asked. "You're looking for the Colt, right? What's going to stop the Winchesters from shooting your family first and asking questions later?"

"Waste bullets on my Randy?" Faye laughed. "Yeah, right. They're saving that thing for the big man in charge. Not that it'll do them much good. He's ready. He's waiting. He's going to kill them. Too bad he ain't gonna get to kill you."

"Geez," Steve smirked. "We get it; you want to fuck him."

The demon raised her eyebrow at him, and then slowly made her way back towards the counter. Lynn winced, watching her uneasily as she crossed the room.

_Crash!_ Faye smashed an abandoned beer bottle against the corner of the counter. Then she took one long, wicked shard of glass and stabbed Steve through his forearm.

Her brother cried out in agony. Lynn yelped, struggling to get off the wall, but to no avail. Faye pulled Deedee's mouth into an evil little grin.

"That wasn't polite," she said.

She turned away from him and sauntered back towards Jayne, leaving Steve cursing and flinching, the shard of glass still stuck in his arm.

"You messed with the wrong demons," Faye was saying now. "You all stepped into some serious shit – you cannot even being to comprehend the magnitude of the shit you have stepped in. I almost feel sorry for you all. But then I remember Hell, and I get over it."

"Well, I hope you have at least one fond memory of home," Jayne retorted. "Because you're going back soon enough."

"Face it – you've lost," Faye pointed out. "Rufus? He's not here. When I'm done with all of you, I'm going to finish him off next. The Winchesters are dying as we speak – and you three are next on the kill list. Deedee, though – I think I'll keep her. Usually I prefer me a brunette gal, but this body's really starting to grow on me. Red just might be my color after all."

_Crack!_ Lynn flinched as Faye's fist made contact with Jayne's face again. Jayne cussed, and the demon hauled off and slugged her in the stomach. Lynn looked away as her sister grunted, her head falling forward as she tried to hunch over in pain but was prevented by the force pinning her to the wall.

"My Randy?" Faye taunted Jayne. "His sister? Their Daddy – the big old yellow-eyed man in charge? They're going to peel Winchester flesh from bone."

"I think you're all talk," Lynn piped up, desperate to distract the demon from her sister. Deedee whirled around and raised her eyebrow. "You keep saying you're going to kill us, but all you're _really_ doing is bitch-slapping us."

Deedee/Faye strode towards Lynn. "Maybe I want to see you suffer."

"And this is what you came up with?"

"Baby girl, I'm just getting started."

_Crack!_ Faye's fist smashed into Lynn's nose, and the sound of breaking bone echoed throughout the room. Lynn cried out, the sharp, painful sensation briefly blinding her.

"Hey!" she heard Steve bellow.

"Don't you touch her, you fucking bitch!" Jayne shouted.

The demon ignored them both. "Oops," Faye smiled brightly. "I think you broke your nose. Here, let's set that."

She grabbed the broken appendage between her thumb and finger and yanked the bone back into place. Lynn whimpered in spite of herself at the sudden, snapping pain. The demon tapped her sore nose, and Lynn flinched.

"Wouldn't want you healing ugly, now would we?" Faye smirked.

The assault on her sinuses had Lynn's eyes watering. She blinked back the tears, and spat in Faye's face. Faye blinked, shocked, and then slowly wiped her cheek.

"Oh, no," she said in low, dangerous voice. "That _really_ just pissed me off."

Lynn swallowed, but held her chin high. Faye tilted her head, studying her. "Hmm," Faye went on, tapping her chin. "What am I going to break next?"

Her hand shot out so suddenly that Lynn was barely able to follow the movement with her eyes. She snatched one of Lynn's fingers and pulled it off the wall. There was a loud _crunch!_ A short shriek escaped Lynn's lips as white hot pain burned through the digit. She could feel the broken bones rubbing together and squeezed her eyes shut, biting down on her lip to keep from whimpering.

"Stop it!" she heard Steve shout.

"Or what?" Faye retorted.

There was a long, tense, terrible silence. Lynn tried to ignore the throbbing in her nose and her finger, and said nothing, fixing her eyes on the ceiling. Faye turned in a circle, smirking at each of them.

"Now," she giggled. "Who's next?"

* * *

Sam struggled with the weight of his fireman's uniform as he followed Dean down the apartment hallway. The boots were clunky, the yellow jacket too warm, and the helmet and mask were heavy on his head.

They were poking their way through the hallways of the Sunrise apartment complex, running their EMF detector in front of every door, searching for any sign of demons – and, by default, their father.

Less than an hour ago, he and Dean had been wandering the riverfront, leaving the Impala by that construction site, looking for anything that might be related to the word _sunrise. _No sooner had they begun their search, Dean had spotted Sunrise Apartments. Ten minutes later, Sam had pulled the fire alarm, emptying the building of innocent people, and then he and Dean had stolen fireman's gear and snuck inside the complex.

"I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up," Dean said suddenly, his voice distorted by the fireman's mask.

"You never told me that!" Sam exclaimed, surprised.

Dean shrugged, not bothering to elaborate. He kept darting from one side of the hall to the other, still running EMF on every door they passed. Finally, the reading on the EMF spiked.

Sam glanced at his brother, who nodded at him. Then Dean pounded on the door. "This is the fire department! We need you to evacuate!"

There was a long tense moment of silence as the two brothers waited for the door to open. Sam heard the click of the lock from the other side of the door, and then it was pulled open ever so slightly.

Sam burst into the room, knocking back the demon who had answered the door. The demon had taken hold of a brunette woman in her early thirties, and as Sam marched into the apartment, she flew backwards into the kitchen table.

He set off his fire extinguisher. Before entering the building, he and Dean had blessed the contents of the extinguishers, creating holy water. The foam hit the demon in the chest and immediately steam began to rise off its skin while the demon writhed and shrieked on the kitchen table.

As Sam sprayed the woman down, Dean smashed his way into the apartment behind him. An overweight man in his early thirties came tearing out from behind the door, his eyes huge and black. Dean sprayed him with his extinguisher, and the man started hollering along with the woman, mist rolling off his flesh. Dean collared the man and tossed him into the coat closet.

Sam followed his example, heaving the screaming and thrashing demon woman off the kitchen table and shoving her into the closet behind the man. Dean threw himself against the door, struggling to hold it in place with the weight of his body as Sam flew to the duffel bag they'd brought and began rifling through it for salt. The door shook against Dean's back as the two demons inside pounded against it, trying to escape.

"Hurry up!" Dean bellowed over the noise.

Sam's fingers finally closed around the salt canister and he rushed for the closet. Quickly he sprinkled a thick line of salt in front of the door, around Dean's boots. When the line was sealed, Dean stepped over the salt, careful not to knock a single grain out of place. The pounding on the door ceased almost immediately.

The next few seconds were a blur. Both Sam and his brother shrugged out of the firemen's gear and snatched up their things. Then slowly, breathlessly, they marched towards the back of the apartment, headed for the nearest bedroom.

When Dean pushed the door open, Sam froze in the hallway. His father was sprawled out on the bed, tied up and unconscious, blood smeared on his face. Dean pushed past him, rushing to their father's side and bending over the man.

"He's still breathing," Dean announced. He started shaking their father. "Dad? Dad!"

Sam just stood uselessly in the doorway, swallowing down a sudden onslaught of nausea. Dean pulled out his knife and made a move to cut through the ropes binding John to the bed.

"No," Sam stopped him. "Wait!"

"What?" Dean demanded.

Sam didn't want to say what he was thinking, but he couldn't ignore his sudden, sinking suspicion. "He could be possessed for all we know."

Dean gawked at him. "What are you, nuts?" he asked, making another move to cut through the ropes.

"Dean," Sam insisted. "We have to be sure."

His brother kept gawking at him. Sam slowly pulled his flask of holy water from the duffel slung over his shoulder. Dean stared at him as he splashed the water onto their father's chest.

Both of them trained their eyes on John, watching for the signs, but there weren't any. There was no steam, no hissing, no flinching or screaming. Their father stirred, his head moving on the pillow and his eyes opening. He lifted his head, squinting at both boys.

"Sam," he murmured. "Why are you splashing water on me?"

A short, soft chuckle escaped Sam's lips. He glanced at Dean; saw the relief that flashed across his brother's face. "Dad, you ok?" he demanded.

"They've been drugging me," John replied. "Where's the Colt?"

"Don't worry, Dad," Sam spoke up. "It's safe."

Dean immediately went back to work on freeing their father. "Good boys," John muttered. "Good boys."

When the ropes were cut, Sam helped lift his father off the bed. The brothers hoisted him between them; an arm slung over each of their shoulders, and supported him out of the bedroom. The moment they stepped into the hallway, the front door flew open, slamming into the wall.

They froze. Sam's eyes went wide at the sight of the building superintendent and one of the firemen storming into the apartment, their eyes big and black and empty.

"Go!" Dean barked. "Back!"

Sam felt his father's weight leave his shoulders. Dean wrestled John back into the bedroom and raced for the large window that led out onto the fire escape. Sam slammed the bedroom door behind them, and flipped the lock into place.

Two seconds later, the fireman's ax smashed through the door.

There was barely time to react. Dean immediately dragged their father through the window. Sam knelt before the door, sprinkling a thick line of salt across the threshold. All the while, the ax sliced through the door, splintering the wood and shaking the apartment. Wood chips rained down on his head.

"Sam!" Dean bellowed from the fire escape. "Let's go!"

Finishing off the salt line, Sam leapt to his feet and rushed for the fire escape. Dean caught the bag Sam tossed at him and then disappeared down the ladder. Sam vaulted over the windowsill and onto the escape, pausing only to sprinkle a second line of salt along the sill.

He wasn't entirely sure how the three of them made it all the way down the ladder, but somehow they did. Dean hit the sidewalk first, catching their father as he stumbled off the last rung. Sam jumped to the ground last, and then raced towards the corner, intent on getting them all out and far away from Sunrise Apartments.

He made it around the front end of a large white delivery van, and that's when he was tackled from the side.

Sam hit the ground hard. There was a brief second in which he looked up at his attacker and saw a young man with dirt-blonde hair, black eyes, and a stony facial expression hovering over him. Then the man's fist made crushing contact with his face.

Again and again, the man's fist smashed into his head, with the weight and force of a heavy stone. Dean arrived on the scene and kicked the demon in the head, but he didn't even flinch. He merely looked up at Dean with those empty black eyes, his face still arranged in that stony, impassive expression, and glanced at a car on the other side of the street.

The glance was enough to send Dean airborne, flying across the street and crashing into the windshield of the car, where he shattered the glass. Sam barely had time to register Dean's landing before the demon's fist went back to beating in his face.

He could feel the pain and the swelling and the warm oozing of blood, but it was as though he were feeling it from far away, incapable of comprehending exactly what it all meant. Then, a gunshot echoed across the street.

Sam watched the bullet enter the demon's head on one side and exit on the other. There was a flash and crackle of lightening about the man's head, and his black eyes briefly flashed white. Then the demon toppled sideways and landed haphazardly in the road.

In shock, Sam turned confused eyes on his older brother. Dean had recovered from his crash landing into the car, and was standing up in the street, aiming the Colt at the fallen demon. Even from this distance, Sam could see the barrel smoking.

He didn't have time or the presence of mind to say thank you, or even to scold Dean for doing the opposite of what they'd agreed to do. He stared as Dean lowered the Colt and ran to his side, still dazed and concussed and barely registering Dean's hands on the lapels of his coat. Sam was bloody and he could hear his breath coming out in wheezing gasps.

"Sam," Dean barked, lifting him off the street. "Sam, come on!"

His brother hauled him to his feet, supporting him as he swayed. Sam stared at the body in the road. Its eyes were wide open, and dark red blood was trickling out onto the asphalt. "Come on," Dean said, shoving him towards the sidewalk where they'd left their father. "Come on, we've got get out of here!"

Sam leaned on Dean as they went, and when they reached John, Dean let go. Sam stumbled, going to his knees and trying to clear his foggy head. Dean threw the bag onto his shoulder and hefted their father off the ground, supporting his weight. Sam forced himself off his knees and staggered after the two of them as they ran for where they'd left the car.

Slowly, his vision cleared and his breathing evened. The numbness was fading and Sam acutely felt the ache in his head from the demon's fist. As the three of them ran the few blocks back to the abandoned construction site, a crippling, ill-feeling formed in the pit of Sam's stomach.

That had been too easy.

* * *

Jayne was still struggling against the invisible force pinning her to the tavern wall. She knew it was useless, but she couldn't stop – as though some tiny part of her believed she could break the barrier through sheer force of will. Deedee – or Faye – circled the tavern, tilting her head from side to side and studying her prisoners.

Lynn was staring at the ceiling, not talking and not looking at anyone. Jayne looked from Lynn to Steve. Her brother's eyes were following every move Faye made. That shard of glass was still poking out of his arm, and she could see blood staining his shirt sleeve. Behind the counter, the coffeemaker kept on sparking and smoking. The flames were leaping higher, and the stench of burning plastic was pervading everything in the air. She could see smoke. Though the fire had started out as nonthreatening, Jayne had a feeling that was about to change.

The demon didn't seem concerned. Faye kept pacing the floor, wearing her ugly smirk that did not belong on Deedee's face. Jayne watched her with narrowed eyes, her lip curling in disgust.

"Hmm," Faye sighed. "I'm bored."

"Run out of fun torture ideas already?" Jayne retorted. "Your lack of creativity astounds me."

"You three aren't very bright," Faye observed. "Constantly goading the angry demon that has you completely at her mercy. But that's hunters for you. Always so snarky, right up to the bitter end."

Jayne sneered at her. The demon smirked back wickedly. "That fire's still going back there," Faye observed. "If someone doesn't stop it, this whole place is going to fry. You know, seeing as the three of you sent me on a one-way express route to Hell, it seems only fair I return the favor. Maybe I'll just let this place burn to the ground – with the three of you still inside it."

Steve glared at the demon, and so did Jayne. Faye's smirk got wider. "I'll just step outside and listen to the screams. Mmm, yeah… I think I like this idea."

"That's your plan?" Jayne scoffed. "You're just going to wait until this place _slowly _catches on fire and then watch us burn. Are you a Bond villain?"

"Such a funny girl," Faye returned flatly. "Don't worry, Barbie. I'm going to have a little more fun with the three of you. We're going to play all the way up to the final fireworks."

Jayne glowered at the smirking demon. Her stomach was sore, and her face throbbed. She could feel her lip swelling and splitting – taste the blood on her tongue. She was certain she was developing a black eye. Her brother had a shard of glass through his arm, and her poor sister was nursing a broken nose and finger. If she could only get off this wall… oh, the things she would do to that smug, smartass demon bitch.

But she couldn't get off that wall – this was quickly becoming obvious. For all Jayne's smart talk and bravado, there was no denying that Faye was right. She, Lynn, and Steve were all seriously fucked.

"So you know the big man, huh?" Steve asked dryly. Jayne's eyes darted to him in panic. Faye turned and smirked at him. "You take orders from Yellow Eyes himself. Well, riddle me this, Bat-shit Crazy… what the hell does that son of a bitch want?"

"You three dead," Faye retorted, examining Deedee's fingernails. "Any more stupid questions?"

"Why me?" Steve pressed.

Faye sighed harshly. "I already told you – you were a mistake. You're about to be a dead mistake. Now no more talking or I'm going to start removing body parts."

The smoke was starting to get too thick, and Jayne coughed slightly, gagging on the stench. Melted plastic was seriously unappetizing. The flames leapt higher behind the counter now, and she could hear them crackling.

"Ooh," Faye cooed, clapping her hands. "That fire's really getting going now. Who's excited?"

"Crazy bitch," Jayne replied.

Faye smirked. Jayne tried to keep her face calm and impassive, but her eyes kept darting to the coffeemaker. The flames were leaping higher and higher, and they seemed to be spreading to the rest of the back counter. The smoke was billowing, rising up towards the rafters.

The fire alarm sounded: a loud, shrill, persistent ringing. The sprinklers kicked in, drenching the bar. The water misted on Jayne's skin, dampening her hair, and she twitched her lips at the realization that the surprise sprinkler system had effectively ruined Faye's master plan.

Faye shrieked, and at first Jayne thought the demon had merely come to the same conclusion. It didn't take long to figure out, however, that Faye's shrieks were not of frustration, but agony.

She hit the floor on her knees, screaming, as the water hit her skin and hissing clouds of steam rolled off her flesh. Jayne gawked at the writhing woman. Suddenly, the force holding her to the wall vanished. Surprised, she stumbled forward, nearly hitting the ground. Looking up through the sprinkler mist, she saw Lynn in a heap on the floor, and her brother staggering away from the wall, trying to wrestle the glass out of his arm.

Standing by the back door was Rufus Hannigan.

"Rufus?" she exclaimed, shocked.

He didn't reply. Instead, he moved forward into the tavern, his eyes hard and cold and set dead on Faye. The demon was still screaming, panting heavily and wriggling under the sprinklers. Rufus stood over her, paying no mind to the water raining down on his head.

"You get the hell out of my daughter, you demon bitch," he snarled.

Still screaming, Faye leapt off the ground and propelled herself at Rufus. Jayne darted forward, tackling the demon to the ground. The two of them rolled on the wet floor, but Faye was significantly weakened by the holy water, and Jayne easily overpowered her.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus,_" she heard Rufus reciting over the hissing sound of the sprinklers. "_Omnis Satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute_…"

Faye screamed again, louder and more agonized than before. She bucked against Jayne's hands, and Jayne struggled to keep her pinned to the floor. Rufus kept right on reciting the exorcism, no book in sight, going strictly from memory. "_Ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis. Non ultra audeas, serpens callidissime, deciptere humanum genus…_"

The demon was flinching and writhing in Jayne's grasp; its unearthly screaming and hissing filling her ears. The flames in the back of the bar died down and eventually dissipated entirely. Faye bucked upwards again, throwing Jayne off her. Steve rushed in from the side and grabbed her shoulders, yanking her back to the floor. Jayne recovered quickly and darted back in to help him.

"_Bendictus deus!_" Rufus finished. "_Gloria Patri!_"

Faye shrieked one last time, loud and long and high. Her head snapped back, and black smoke funneled out her mouth, charging the ceiling in a long, billowing pillar. With a flash of fire, the smoke vanished against the rafters.

Deedee flopped back on the floor, limp as a rag doll. Steve hunched over her, tapping her face. Jayne looked up at Lynn and Rufus. Slowly, Lynn was getting to her feet. Rufus rushed to his daughter's side, and Lynn limped after him.

The sprinklers sputtered to a stop, but the tavern was already soaked. Rufus knelt beside Deedee and Jayne got her feet as Lynn reached the rest of them. Her sister frowned down at Deedee, and Jayne took hold of her shoulder. "You all right?"

Lynn nodded, nursing her hand. "Bit sore. I think I better get this finger looked at."

"We'll stop somewhere when we head out."

Deedee groaned. Jayne and Lynn both turned at the sound, bending down on their knees. Deedee blinked a few times, and then opened her eyes. "Daddy?" she asked.

Rufus nodded, tapping her nose. "You all right, Deedee?"

She nodded back, frowning around the room. "What happened?"

Jayne bit her lip, looking from Deedee to Lynn, and then to her brother. Steve met her eyes. "You, uh… you were possessed," he explained.

There was a short silence. Lynn broke it, of course, faking a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I think we could all use a drink," she announced.

Jayne jumped on board instantly. "Sure," she agreed. "A drink."

Rufus nodded, taking his daughter by the arm. With Steve's help, the two of them hauled Deedee off the floor. Jayne took a step back, watching the two of them lead Deedee to the bar and help her sit on one of the stools.

"Steve," Rufus grunted. "You know you're bleeding, right?"

Jayne had to stifle a laugh.

Steve looked down at his arm – now glass free – and widened his eyes in mock surprise. "Huh," he replied. "What do you know?"

Rufus stepped behind the bar, his boots squeaking against the wet floor. Lynn stumbled over to the bar and hopped up on the stool beside Deedee, still nursing her hand. Jayne came up behind her, meeting her brother's eyes over Deedee's head. Rufus tossed a rag at Jayne, and then pulled glasses out from under the bar. Jayne took the hint and wiped water off the counter as Rufus set down the glasses and pulled the whiskey off the shelf. Water dribbled down the sides of the bottle as he unscrewed the lid and started pouring double shots.

Deedee took her shot glass first and threw back her whiskey, wincing at the burn. She slammed the glass down on the table and took a deep breath. "More please?"

Her father obliged the request. Jayne watched the amber liquid pour out into the shot glass, throwing back her own whiskey. Deedee sucked down her second shot as Rufus reached under bar again and pulled out the first aid kit.

Jayne stood off to the side, taking in Deedee as she helped Lynn wrap up her finger, and staring at Steve as he took a piece of gauze and dabbed at his bleeding arm. She met Rufus's eyes over the bar. Jayne smirked.

"You blessing the water in your well now?" she asked dryly.

Rufus winked. "You know it."

* * *

The cabin was disgusting, but Dean didn't give a damn. At any rate, he was well used to disgusting cabins playing home base. He ignored the worn floorboards and broken furniture and cobwebs hanging in the corners. All that mattered was getting his father cleaned up and healed up.

That was exactly what he did, too. He stood over his father until the man's breathing evened out and Dean was certain he was asleep. He watched the rise and fall of his father's chest, listened to the sounds of Sam scuffling around the other room. It was almost too good to be true, too difficult to believe that his father could be safe, and Sam could be safe, and they could all be back together again, holed up in this piece of shit cabin and _safe_.

Dean blinked suddenly, his eyes stinging. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he wrestled his phone out of his jeans and glanced down at the display.

No new messages. No new calls. Nothing. Where the hell was she, and why wasn't she answering her phone?

Dean swallowed down his nausea, and dialed her number one last time. Her phone rang and rang and rang, and then his call went to voicemail. Closing his eyes, Dean huffed out a breath, cussing as the all too familiar voicemail message sounded in his ear. He waited for the beep.

Breathing deep, he spoke low and steady into the phone. "I don't know if you're getting these or not," he told Jayne's voicemail. "We're holed up in a cabin for now. You have exactly one hour to call me back, Goldilocks, and then I'm coming to find you."

He hung up the phone with a loud snap. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair, and then shoved the cell back into his jeans pocket. Not everyone was back. Not everyone was safe. And as grateful as he was for small miracles, there were too many other variables in play for him to be truly happy about his current situation.

When Dean finally left his father lying in bed and returned to the main room, he found Sam sprinkling salt in front of the doors and windows. His brother glanced up once, and then returned to the salt. "How is he?" he asked.

"Just needs a little rest, that's all," Dean replied. "How are you?"

Sam's face was all busted up, so the question was moot. "I'll survive," Sam returned.

Dean crossed to the other side of the tiny living space, leaning against the counter that sidled up against a rust-stained dry sink. Night had fallen, and the cabin was lit dimly by candles and oil lamps. Sam's movements were casting long, haunting shadows on the walls. His brother finished laying down the salt line, and then turned to him with a frown.

"Hey, you don't think we were followed here, do you?" Sam asked.

Dean glanced at him. "I don't know," he replied truthfully. "I don't think so. I mean, we couldn't have found a more out of the way place to hole up."

"Yeah," Sam agreed softly, but he didn't sound convinced. Dean didn't blame him – he wasn't convinced either. The two of them lapsed into another silence.

"Hey," Sam broke it hesitantly. "Uh… Dean, you, um… you saved my life back there."

He couldn't help smirking at his little brother's statement. "So I guess you're glad I brought the gun, huh?" Dean retorted.

Sam sighed, his face conveying long-suffering. "Man, I'm trying to thank you here."

"You're welcome."

Dean fell quiet after that, and so did his brother. Slowly, Sam set down his salt canister and moved away from the window. Dean didn't move off the counter, didn't move his eyes from the shadowy corner he'd been staring at since he sat down. Sam took up leaning space on the counter too, much farther down the line. "Hey, Sam," Dean said suddenly.

"Yeah?"

He wasn't sure how to say it, or why he was even trying. "You know that guy I shot?" he asked. Sam nodded. "There was a person in there."

"You didn't have a choice, Dean."

"Yeah, I know. That's not what bothers me."

Dean didn't miss how hard his brother swallowed, or how serious his eyes turned. "Then what does?" Sam asked slowly.

"Killing that guy, killing Meg… I didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch. I mean, for you and Dad, the things I'm willing to do or kill, it just, uh… scares me sometimes."

It was a hard admission to make. Sam stared at him, and Dean couldn't make himself look back – couldn't hold eye contact. His father's voice sounded from the shadows then, startling them both: "It shouldn't."

Dean looked up in surprise at the voice. His father appeared, stepping out of the shadows. He's apparently left his bed. "You did good," John assured him.

Dean blinked, taken aback. "You're not mad?"

"For what?"

Dean gawked, not entirely sure what was wrong with his father. "Using that bullet," he said like it should have been obvious – because really, it should have been obvious. But John didn't seem to agree.

"Mad?" he returned gently. "I'm proud of you."

He couldn't help gawking at his father some more. John forced out a small smile for him. "You know, Sam and I… we can get pretty obsessed. But you, Dean… you watch out for this family. You always have."

Still Dean frowned. He glanced at Sam, and then back at his father. John's eyes bored into his. He tried to smile but failed, his cheek only twitching slightly. "Thanks," he said uncertainly.

Was he the only one caught off guard here? Why didn't Sam look as confused as Dean felt? But just as soon as Dean had started second-guessing what was going on, then the goddamn lanterns started flickering.

They all started, both Dean and Sam leaping anxiously to their feet. Their father ran for the window, peering out into the darkness. Dean could see the wind blowing furiously outside, banging the branches of an evergreen into the windowpane. "It found us," John announced. "It's here."

"The demon," Sam whispered.

"Sam, get the salt. Line every door, every window."

"Already did," Sam replied.

"Well, check it, ok?" John retorted.

Sam ran off to follow orders. "Dean, do you have the gun?" John demanded.

"Yeah."

"Give it to me."

Dean wrestled the gun out of his jeans, but he couldn't help arguing about it. "Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It vanished."

"This is me," John retorted. "I won't miss. Now, the gun. Hurry."

For some reason, Dean hesitated. Frowning again, Dean looked down at the antique revolver he had cradled in his hands. He could feel his father's expectant eyes boring holes into his head, but still Dean made no move to hand over the gun. Slowly, he looked up at his father and met his eyes.

"Son," John insisted. "Please."

And somehow, that cinched it – the lingering doubt and confusion Dean had not been able to shake since Sam had splashed their father with the holy water. When John had made that speech only seconds earlier… his father never said things like that. Slowly, Dean backed away.

"Give me the gun," John demanded again. "What are you doing Dean?"

"He'd be furious," Dean said.

"What?"

"That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn't be proud of me; he'd tear me a new one."

John stared at him. Dean stared back, his certainty growing. His chin shook, but his hand was steady as he pulled back the hammer and pointed the Colt straight at his father.

"You're not my dad," he announced.

Silence.

Dean said nothing, and neither did his father. Then, hesitantly, John took a single step forward. "Dean, it's me."

"I know my dad better than anyone," he retorted. "And you ain't him."

'What the hell has gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Stay back."

Sam chose that moment to return. "Dean!" he exclaimed, running in from the other room. His eyes fell on the Colt, and then darted towards their father. "What the hell is going on?"

"Your brother's lost his mind."

"He's not Dad," Dean insisted.

"What?" Sam asked, his nose crinkling in confusion.

"I think he's possessed," Dean explained. "I think he's been possessed since we rescued him."

"Don't listen to him, Sammy."

Sam's eyes never left their father. "Dean, how do you know?"

"He's just different!" Dean returned. He couldn't explain it; he just knew the man in front him was not his father.

"We don't have time for this," John announced. "Sam, you want to kill this demon? You got to trust me."

Sam's eyes were darting from Dean, to John, and back again. Dean just kept his gaze trained steadily on John, still leveling the gun in his direction. Only when Sam failed to make a move did Dean look his way. Sam stared at him a moment.

"Sam," John said.

Dean looked away, bracing himself.

Sam stood silently for a moment, and then slowly stepped towards Dean. "No," he murmured, shaking his head as he backed towards his brother, coming to a stop just behind Dean's shoulder. "No."

John shook his head, and Dean had to admit that the pained expression on his father's face was almost believable. But he knew his father better than anyone. John wouldn't wear that expression right then – he'd be pissed and he'd be yelling.

"Fine," the demon with his father's face replied. "Why don't you shoot me, then? You're both so sure. Go ahead. Kill me."

For the first time, Dean's arm began to shake. His father ducked his head, and Dean swallowed. He knew he'd never be able to do it – Dean could not pull the trigger.

"I thought so," John smirked, slowly looking up from the floor.

His eyes were yellow.

Sam gasped and rushed forward. The demon jerked his chin, and suddenly Dean felt an invisible force slam into his chest, sending him flying backwards. Sam flew back too, hitting the wall on their left. The Colt fell from Dean's hand as he crashed into the back wall. The wind was knocked out of him, but Dean couldn't move. He couldn't even fall down. No matter how hard he struggled, he could not get off the wall.

From the angry look on Sam's face and the incessant struggling he seemed to be doing, Dean conjectured that his brother was likewise stuck. Dean kept struggling too, wincing in pain from the strength of the invisible force and the impact with the wall. John crossed the room and picked the Colt off the floor. Dean glowered at the demon as it turned the gun over in John's hands. "What a pain in the ass this thing has been," he announced.

"It's you, isn't it?" Sam growled.

John turned his yellow eyes on Sam and smirked.

"We've been looking for you for a long time," Sam informed him.

The demon shrugged. "Well, you found me."

"But the holy water," Sam insisted.

"You think something like that works on something like me?" the yellow-eyed demon retorted.

Sam hissed in frustration, struggling to get off the wall again – and again, he failed, slumping back against the wall and thumping his head against the hard wood panels. "I'm going to kill you!" he exclaimed.

Dean shook his head, suddenly taken over with grief and desperation. The demon smirked at his still struggling brother. "Oh, that would be a neat trick. In fact, here." It set the gun down on the countertop. "Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy."

Sam glared at the demon. Dean rested his head back against the wall, the desperation growing. His stomach was turning over, and he wanted to puke. The gun, of course, didn't move. The demon chuckled, and strode forward. "This is fun," it announced. "I could have killed you a hundred times today, but this? This was worth the wait."

Dean watched the demon stalk up to the window beside him. He glowered at the thing inside his father's body, still struggling to get off the wall. It was useless. The demon turned John's head and smirked at him. "Your dad? He's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says hi. He's going to tear you apart. He's going to taste the iron in your blood."

"Let him go," Dean snarled. "Or I swear to God, I'll…"

"What?" the demon interrupted. "What are you and God going to do? You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice."

Dean glowered. The demon walked forward, leaning in so close Dean could feel its breath on his face. "You know that little exorcism of yours?" the demon asked. "That was my daughter."

"Meg?"

"The one in the alley, Dean? That was my boy. You understand?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"What?" the demon snapped. "You're the only one who can have a family? You destroyed my children! How would you feel if I killed your family?"

Dean glowered again, struggling against the invisible force one more time. The demon smirked at Dean's expression. "Oh, that's right," it practically cooed. "I forgot. I did. Still… two wrongs don't make a right."

Its yellow eyes were all Dean could see. He glared into the bright yellow irises in his father's head. "You son of a bitch," he growled.

"I want to know why!" Sam demanded from the other side of the room. "Why'd you do it?"

"You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty little Jess?" the demon retorted, whirling around to face Sam.

"Yeah."

The demon returned to Dean, keeping its eyes trained on him as it backed towards Sam. "You know, he never told you this, but Sam was going to ask her to marry him," the yellow-eyed thing informed him. "Been shopping for rings and everything."

It reached Sam's side of the room and turned to face the other Winchester. "You want to know why?" it asked. "Because they got in the way."

"In the way of what?" Sam spat back.

"My plans for you, Sammy. You, and all the children like you. Max Miller… Stephen Juarez… the list goes on and on."

"Listen," Dean quipped. "Do you mind just getting this over with, because I really can't stand the monologuing."

"Funny!" the demon barked, redirecting its yellow eyes to Dean. Dean glowered back as the thing stalked across the room again, coming back to lean into Dean's personal space. "But that's all part of your MO, isn't it? Mask that nasty pain. Mask the truth."

"And what's that?"

"You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is? They don't need you."

Dean glared at the thing, trying not to react. The demon smirked. "Not like you need them," it pushed. "Sam? He's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight? It's more concern than he's ever shown you."

It stung, just a little. Dean made himself smirk back at the demon. "I bet you must be real proud of _your_ kids, huh? Oh, wait. I forgot. I wasted them."

The demon didn't react right away. Dean watched the smirk flicker and deepen on his father's face. He twitched the corner of his mouth at the demon, and the demon leaned in just a little closer. "You know, I'll bet there's only one person who's ever shown you back even half the concern you've shown them," it whispered. "And my daughter-in-law? My boy's widow? She's in Kentucky right now, killing that person as we speak."

Dean swallowed, forcing himself to keep wearing the smirk, forcing himself to keep looking into that demon's hideous yellow eyes. The demon grinned wide, taking a step back. "Guess you should have said goodbye after all."

He faltered, just a bit. The demon didn't notice. It lowered its head, and then slowly looked back up, its smirk widening just a tad. That's when the sharp, blinding pain exploded in Dean's chest. He shouted in agony, wincing and crying out, barely hearing his brother's cries on the other side of the room.

"Dad, don't you let it kill me!" he shouted, praying his father could hear him, locked in there with that thing.

But the pain came on stronger. It burned his insides like fire, and Dean choked on the coppery taste of his own blood. Blood dribbled over his lips and down his chin and made little rivers all down his shirt. Dean flinched and groaned, and tried very hard not to pass out.

"Dad," he whispered pathetically. "Please."

The demon narrowed its yellow eyes at him. The pain intensified, and the blood poured faster. Dean cried out, his eyes rolling back in his head as he began to slip under the haze threatening to take him.

His head dropped forward on his chest, and then everything turned silent and black.

* * *

It still felt strange – unreal, even – sitting around the Hannigan's sopping wet bar, pretending like Deedee hadn't been possessed just a few minutes ago and trying to kill them all. Jayne sighed, watching her brother and sister talking with Rufus and Deedee by the bar, trying to laugh off everything that had just happened. Steve and Lynn had pulled off rush patch jobs on their respective injuries, and were now taking the sting out with some more of Rufus's whiskey. He was explaining to them where he'd been while they'd been stuck with demon!Deedee.

"I was out on a hunt, next state over," Rufus was saying. "Deedee – well, it wasn't her at the time – said there were demonic omens there, and I thought I might get a lead on what killed Trevor…"

Jayne stopped listening, her eyes falling on her cell phone, which still lay on the counter where Faye had left it. A tiny part of her wanted to join in the drinking and conversation, but she couldn't ignore the panicking little voice in her head that demanded she check her messages.

She snatched her cell phone off the counter, where Deedee as a demon had left it, hoping against hope the sprinklers hadn't damaged it. Luckily, the phone turned out to be fine. Sighing, she flipped it open and scrolled through her missed calls.

There were over twenty, and almost all of them were from Dean. Frowning, Jayne realized that she had six voicemails waiting for her. Her fingers flew over the necessary buttons in a panicked flurry. Soon, the mechanized voice echoed over the phone speaker: "_You have six new messages. First new message._"

There was a beep, and then she heard Dean's voice: "Hey, Goldilocks, just checking in. Um… my Dad's still missing. We're in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Call me when you get this."

_Second new message_. "You didn't call me back. Guess Rufus is still missing? Look, we just exorcised Meg, and she said my Dad's in Jefferson City, so we're heading there now. I don't know what's going on with Rufus, but if you can meet us there… just call, ok?"

_Third new message_. "I don't know why the hell you're not calling me back, Jayne, but I'm kind of worried about you, so… freaking call me already, would you?"

_Fourth new message. _"Damn it, Goldilocks, answer your fucking phone!"

_Fifth new message_. "We're leaving Jefferson City. Sam and I found my Dad – he's fine. Are you in trouble? You better be in trouble. If something isn't trying to kill you right now, _I'm_ going to kill you."

_Final message_. "I don't know if you're getting these or not. We're holed up in a cabin for now. You have exactly one hour to call me back, Goldilocks, and then I'm coming to find you."

_End of messages. To delete these messages, press seven. To save…_

Jayne sniffed, quickly disconnecting her voicemail and dialing Dean's number. Rubbing her forehead, she paced the bar, listening to Dean's phone ring and ring and ring.

The call went to his voicemail. Jayne took a deep, steadying breath. "Dean," she said into the phone. "I'm _so_ sorry. We ran into a little problem, but we took care of it. Everyone's fine. Stay put, we'll come to you. Just… call me when you get this, give me an exact location on the cabin… tell me you're all right."

She swallowed hard, ending the message in a choked whisper, and then hung up the phone. It was a ridiculous overreaction, but instinctively she sensed something was wrong. He'd apparently been calling her all day – he'd left her six voicemails – she couldn't believe he wouldn't answer his phone once she finally called him back.

"Did you reach them?" Lynn asked breathlessly. Jayne whirled at the sound of her sister's voice, finding Lynn behind her, clutching her own cell phone. "I can't get Sam."

Slowly, Jayne shook her head. "Dean's not picking up."

Lynn squeezed her eyes shut, heaving a loud, harsh sigh. "Damn it."

"My thoughts exactly," Jayne tried to joke. It was a miserable failure. "Rufus and Deedee are fine, right? I think it's time to go."

Lynn nodded. "I'll grab my bag."

"Where are you two going?"

Jayne looked up at the sound of her brother's voice. Steve was frowning at the two of them from his stool by the counter. Deedee and Rufus looked her way too, their interest apparently peaked. "Missouri," Jayne replied. "Maybe. Not sure, but that's where Sam and Dean were last, so…"

"You're chasing after them?" Steve demanded. raising his eyebrow.

She immediately went on the defensive. "That demon bitch said they were in trouble," Jayne retorted.

"Demons lie," Steve returned smoothly.

Jayne shrugged. "Maybe. But I can't take that risk."

There was a short silence as everyone stared at her. Jayne took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Rufus, Deedee… I'm sorry to leave you two like this, but…"

"We understand," Deedee replied quietly, giving her a small but sincere smile. "You two should go."

Rufus nodded in agreement. "Take care. Come back when you can."

Jayne nodded too, shouldering her duffel bag. Lynn grabbed her bag too. "Thanks for the rescue," she told him.

Rufus's moustache twitched as he delivered a small smirk. "Barely broke a sweat."

Jayne rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Then her eyes fell on her brother. "Steve," Lynn said suddenly, startling her. "If you…"

"I'm coming with you," he interrupted.

Both Jayne and Lynn froze at his announcement, staring at him in shock. "You're what?" Jayne asked incredulously.

"I'm coming with you," he repeated. "Maybe I'm not Dean and Sam's biggest fan, but if Faye was right, then whatever's happening to them is all about the demon that killed Mom – and I need to be there to take that thing out."

Jayne stared at him some more, not entirely believing her ears. Lynn smiled, throwing her arms around her brother and wrapping him up in a big bear hug.

"Oh, for crying out loud," he grumbled, but the smile on his face gave him away.

Jayne smiled slightly too, feeling strangely hopeful. "How fast can you be ready?" she asked him.

"I'm ready now."

"Good answer," she smirked. "Let's go."

They grabbed their things and said one last hurried goodbye to Rufus and Deedee. Then the three of them marched out of the tavern and loaded up their cars.

Five minutes later, Jayne was behind the wheel of her truck, Lynn sitting at her side, and headed down the dirt road, back towards the highway. Stephen followed close behind in his bright orange car, and Jayne smiled again. It was practically like old times.

Now, if only they could find Dean and Sam, everything would be all right.

Lynn was on her phone again, and Jayne resisted the urge to dig her own phone out of the cup holder and dial Dean's number too. Her smile faded and her shoulders slumped as she watched Lynn sigh dejectedly and hang up the phone.

"Voicemail," she offered shortly.

Jayne nodded, keeping her eyes on the road. She pressed down harder on the gas, swerving when they reached the ramp for the Interstate. Her heart was in her throat, and her eyes were stinging.

She wished one of those idiots would pick up his phone.

* * *

Sam couldn't understand how everything had gone so wrong, so fast.

He'd actually begun to believe they might have made it. Stupid and naive, sure, but still he'd started to hope. One moment, they'd been holed up neatly in this cabin, and he'd been lining everything with salt while Dean patched up Dad. Their father was going to be fine, they were all together and relatively safe… all that had remained, obviously, was finding Lynn and Jayne. But he could maintain that they were fine until he had absolute proof that they weren't. Give them a little longer to call, and then head out to Kentucky. He'd been worried and anxious, sure, and he'd been thinking dark thought about how they were _not _all right because if they were they would have called by now, and yes, a little part of him had thought maybe something had followed him and Dean and their father to this cabin… but he had never expected this.

Now, he was pinned to the wall of the cabin, struggling against some invisible, immovable force, watching helplessly as the yellow-eyed demon possessing his father attempted to kill Dean.

"Dean!" he shouted uselessly as his brother groaned in agony, blood spilling down his chest and even out of his mouth. "No!"

"Dad, don't you let it kill me!" Dean barked at the man standing before him – but the order had seemingly no effect. Sam winced as his brother's moans intensified, and the blood poured thicker and faster.

He struggled against the invisible force with everything he had, even stupidly trying to make the Colt float to him the way he'd magically moved that chest of drawers back in Saginaw. But nothing worked.

Dean was going to die. His father would probably die too. Sam… who knew what that thing had planned for Sam? He blinked back tears, still struggling. His brother slumped forward, unconscious.

"Dean!" he bellowed again. "Dean! No!"

"No," his father whispered suddenly. Sam looked at the back of the man's head in shock. "No, stop it."

The force disappeared. Sam stumbled forward, barely having time to marvel at his sudden freedom. His mind racing, Sam darted for the Colt, snatching it off the counter. His father whirled around, and Sam saw the yellow eyes return. Briefly, he realized, his father had been in control. That was over now.

He aimed the Colt at the demon's head. The yellow-eyed bastard smirked back. "You kill me, you kill Daddy."

"I know," Sam retorted. Then he lowered the gun and fired.

The bullet pierced through his father's leg, and a blue bolt of electricity crackled around the injured appendage. The demon cried out, falling to the ground. Dean, still bloody and unconscious, slumped to the floor as the invisible force vanished. On impact, his eyes flew open.

"Dean," Sam exclaimed, rushing to his brother's side. "Hey… oh, God. You lost a lot of blood…"

"Where's Dad?" Dean interrupted.

"He's right here," Sam assured him. "He's right here, Dean."

"Go check on him."

"Dean…"

"Go check on him."

Slowly, Sam turned away from his injured brother and looked over at his dad. John was lying flat on the floor. "Dad," he said softly, crossing the room on tiptoe. "Dad?"

"Sammy!" his father cried out. Sam flinched at the agony in the man's voice. "It's still alive! It's inside me! I can feel it! You shoot me!"

He started at the command, wanting instinctively to back away. "You shoot me!" John repeated insistently. "You shoot me in the heart, son!"

His fingers had a life of their own. Hating himself already, Sam cocked the Colt and aimed. "Do it! Do it now!" John shouted.

"Don't you do it, Sammy," Dean called from the corner. "Don't you do it!"

"Do it!" John yelled. "You got to hurry! I can't hold it much longer! Just shoot me, son! Shoot me!"

He couldn't do it. Sam stood there, pointing the Colt, but he couldn't pull the trigger. His father was yelling, furious, demanding to be killed, but Sam never had been any good at following his father's orders.

Half of him really wanted to pull that trigger. Half of him really wanted that demon dead, and damn the cost. But he couldn't do it, not really. He could not pull that trigger; he could not kill his father.

"Son, I'm begging you! We could end this here and now!"

Sam faltered, his grip on the gun loosening. "Sammy!" his father roared.

"Sam, no," he heard Dean gasp from behind him.

He couldn't do it – he had to do it – oh, god, he really couldn't do it…

"You do this!" John ordered. "Sammy!"

Slowly, he lowered the gun, his lip trembling. John shook his head, his eyes still desperate and pleading. Sam wanted to cry.

Suddenly, John let out a yell, and his head snapped back. A cloud of black smoke funneled out of his mouth, gathering in a cloud above them. Sam watched helplessly, horrified, as the black smoke continued to escape, and his father continued to yell – one long, wordless, agonizing yell. When the demon was finally expelled, John sank back against the ground, and the black smoke seeped beneath the cabin's floorboards.

"Dad?" Sam whispered, kneeling beside the older man.

John looked up at him, furious, and then lay back against the floor again.

Silence fell on the cabin as Sam squatted on the floor between his two injured family members. He wasn't entirely sure what to do. Swallowing, he grabbed Dean first, trying to ignore the way his brother moaned and groaned in his ear. As fast as possible, Sam hauled his brother off the floor and dragged him out of the cabin. He tucked him into the backseat of the Impala, and then returned inside for his father.

John refused to speak or even look at him as he supported the man outside. Sam put his father in the passenger seat, and then made one final run back to the cabin for their things. Less than five minutes later, they were on the road, headlights cutting through the fog, Sam gunning it down the highway for the nearest hospital. CCR was playing on the stereo, but Sam barely heard the music. He heard his father's sharp, pained little breaths, and he heard Dean's quiet groans in the backseat, but he didn't hear much else.

"Look, just hold on, all right?" he told them. "The hospital's only ten minutes away."

His father shook his head in aggravation. "I'm surprised at you, Sammy," he retorted. "Why didn't you kill it?"

Sam made no answer, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. That didn't stop John. "I thought we saw eye to eye on this," he pressed. "Killing the demon comes first – before me, before everything!"

There was a short silence as John stared at him, awaiting an explanation. Sam glanced into the rearview mirror at his brother's pale and bloody face.

"No sir," he disagreed. "Not before everything."

John looked away. Sam tried to salvage the situation. "Look, we still got the Colt, we still got the one bullet left… we just have to start over, all right? I mean, we already found the demon once…"

_Crash!_

It was pain at its sharpest and most shocking. The bright headlights cut through the car, the gigantic grille of the semi-truck smashing through the passenger side. The truck shoved their car along the road, metal scraping and tires squealing and glass flying in all directions. There was blood, so much blood.

The car jerked to a stop. Sam's head snapped back against the driver's seat. His vision blurred, turned to black, and then came back into focus. Everything hurt. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his father, unconscious in the passenger seat, and the gigantic grille of the semi pressed against his father's window.

Faintly, the stereo kept on playing, CCR teasing its way out through the speakers. The door to the semi's cab swung open, and the trucker stepped down.

_I see a bad moon rising… I see trouble on the way…_

Sam's fingers shook and his arm ached as he tried to grab the Colt from under the seat. He stumbled over it, finally grabbing the barrel.

The driver's side door was ripped from its hinges and tossed down the grassy incline the Impala had stopped beside. Sam stared at the truck driver through swollen eyes. The man was old and gray, and his eyes were big, black and empty.

Sam pointed the gun at the demon. "Get back," he rasped out. "Or I'll kill you, I swear to God."

"No you won't," the demon retorted. "You're saving that bullet for something else."

Sam pulled back the barrel and forced himself to aim for the demon's head, even though it sent sharp, stabbing pains all through his wrist. "You want a bet?" he snarled.

The demon smirked, and then the truck driver's head snapped back. With a loud yell, the demon exited the man's body in a large black column of smoke. Sam watched, still gripping the Colt, as the smoke billowed up into the night sky. The old man slumped down on all fours in the grass.

Sam pushed the hammer back to its original position and let his grip on the gun slacken. He went limp against the seat. Vaguely he could hear the stereo crackling… _Don't come out tonight… it's bound to take your life…_

The truck driver was speaking, but Sam couldn't hear the words. The old man was panicking – horrified at the crash he believed he caused. Sam's vision went black again, all the noise around him fading away.

_There's a bad moon on the rise._

The final notes of the song on the radio rang in his ears, but Sam made little sense of it. The black engulfed him, and finally Sam lost consciousness.


	61. Hardest of Hearts

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

AN: Big thanks yous to angeleyenc, Ks90, SevenYearsLong, Nelle07, kazza03, AshlynPaige92, SPN Mum, 69camaro and ColtFan165 for all the reviews!

* * *

Chapter 61: Hardest of Hearts

Lynn chewed her lip, playing with the cords on her sweatshirt as she stared out the passenger side window of Jayne's old truck. They were rattling down 1-64, in the early hours of morning. The sun had risen, but was still sitting low, lurking behind the gray clouds that coated the sky. A light drizzle was coming down outside, and Lynn sighed as they passed wet trees and bushes and big patches of mud.

Behind the truck, Steve's Superbird was still following along the road. Lynn glanced back at the bright orange car, and then dug her cell phone out of her coat again. She stared down at the display screen. When she'd first gotten her phone back from Deedee, there had been countless missed calls and three voicemails waiting for her. Now, there was nothing. Something was wrong; she could feel it in her gut.

She hesitated to dial again. Jayne glanced at her from the driver's side. "Go ahead and call him," Jayne said gruffly. Lynn looked at her in surprise. "Well, we still don't really know where we're going, Lynn," Jayne pointed out. "I'm driving blind here."

The statement only served to further drive home the hopelessness of their situation. Taking a deep breath, Lynn called Sam again.

His phone rang and rang and rang. She sighed, knocking her head back against the bench seat, positive she was going to get his voicemail again.

"Hello?"

Lynn started in surprise – so much surprise, she forgot to say anything back. Someone had actually answered the phone. It wasn't Sam, though. The voice belonged to a young woman. Lynn's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Um…" she said. "I'm sorry… who is this?"

"My name is Grace Hopkins. I'm a nurse at Sioux City General," the woman replied gently. "I'm answering Samuel McGillicutti's cell phone?"

_Nurse… Sioux City… Samuel McGillicutti?_ Lynn's stomach rolled. "Um…" she said again. "I'm sorry… Sioux City General?"

"Mr. McGillicutti was in a serious car accident," Grace Hopkins pressed. "Are you family?"

"Um… uh… yes. I'm his… sister. Lynn. Is he ok? What happened?"

"Well, Miss McGillicutti, Samuel's fine. He suffered a minor concussion and a sprained wrist, but the extent of his injuries was mostly cuts and bruises."

Lynn heaved a sigh of relief. She could feel Jayne's eyes darting towards her, splitting her focus between Lynn and the road. "What's going on?" Jayne demanded. Lynn ignored her, trying to listen to the nurse on the other end of the call.

"Unfortunately, your father and your other brother didn't fare quite so well."

Lynn's stomach turned over again. "What?"

"Your father will be fine with a little rest, of course. He's got a broken arm… and somehow, he got shot in the leg. Dennis, however…"

_Dennis?_

"I'm afraid he's in a coma, Miss McGillicutti."

She caught her breath sharply in the back of her throat. Lynn glanced worriedly at Jayne, who frowned at her.

"I'll be there soon," Lynn told the nurse. Then she hung up the phone.

"What happened?" Jayne barked.

"They were in a car accident," Lynn informed her. "Sam and John are mostly fine, but still in the hospital. Dean…"

She swallowed. Jayne's frown deepened. "What about Dean?"

"He… hasn't woken up yet."

Jayne glared out the windshield, her jaw ticking. Lynn swallowed again, staring at the side of her sister's face. "Which hospital?" Jayne asked hoarsely.

"Sioux City General."

Jayne hit the gas. "Call Steve. Tell him what's going on. Then dig the map out of the glove compartment and get me on the right road."

* * *

Dean sat up straight in bed, popping up like a jack-in the-box. His mouth was dry, and he grimaced at the sour taste on his tongue. Confused, he sat still for a moment, his eyes darting around the room, taking in the deep blue walls, the speckled linoleum, and the hospital equipment that sat around the head of his bed.

Just great. He was in the freaking hospital. Again.

The events that had led up to this came rushing back. Saving his father in Missouri, hiding out in that cabin, Yellow Eyes possessing Dad and trying to kill them… the semi truck that crashed into the Impala…

Gingerly, he hopped down from the bed and landed softly on his feet. Decked out in standard issue hospital wear, he made his way out of the room and into the long, empty, silent hall.

"Sam?" he called out, glancing into a few of the open doors along the corridor. He didn't recognize any of the patients. "Dad?"

It took him awhile to find anyone who could answer his questions. He ended up heading down a flight of stairs, where he found a nurse's station at the bottom. Limping on his sore muscles, Dean crossed to the desk, where a pretty blonde nurse was going over her charts. "Excuse me," he said to her. "Hi. I, uh… think I was in a car accident with my dad and my brother. I just need to find them."

The woman completely ignored him. She didn't even look at him. Her eyes remained on her charts, and then she glanced over and started messing around on her computer.

"Hello?" Dean asked, not sure whether to be confused or annoyed.

Still nothing. Frowning, Dean snapped his fingers directly in front of her face, waving his hand before her eyes. The woman still wouldn't look at him. Instead, she took her charts and turned away, waltzing out from behind the desk.

Dean watched her go, the confusion quickly fading into abject terror. He had an awful feeling in his gut as he began to piece together exactly what must be happening. Dean turned from the desk and jogged back upstairs, and then down the hall to his room, passing more doctors and nurses. None of them acknowledged him.

He feared what he would find, knowing instinctively what would be in there. Dean reached the hospital room and jerked to a stop in the doorway. He stared at the hospital bed, his eyes widening in horror.

The man lying in the hospital bed was none other than Dean himself.

* * *

Sam was stiff and sore and pissed at Sioux City General's hospital staff.

They were still making him sit in this depressingly blue hospital room while they poked and prodded at his minor injuries, and they were ignoring his questions.

"Where's my dad?" he kept asking. "Where's my brother? Are they all right?"

Instead of giving him answers, they'd just shush him and carry on dressing one of his many scrapes. All they would tell him was that his father was fine, and he could see his family soon. A police officer dropped by, too, asking for details on the crash, which Sam lied about. Then the officer told him where they'd towed the car, and even let Sam use his phone to contact Bobby Singer.

Bobby was the only contact they had who was close enough to do anything about the wreck. Fortunately, the man agreed to drive out and tow the Impala back to his own junkyard.

When the nurses were finally finished taping Sam up, he was ordered to stay in the room until someone came in with his release papers and his personal effects. Sam sighed harshly, flopping back against the headboard of the hospital bed, and waited impatiently for the nurse to arrive.

Fortunately, it didn't take as long as he'd anticipated. A few minutes later, the door swung open and a pretty blond nurse poked her head into the room. Sam gave her a sour look, to which she responded with a big smile. "Here are your release papers!" she chirped, handing him a heavy stack of yellow paperwork.

Sam glared at her some more. She didn't seem to notice, and if she did she obviously didn't care. Next, she handed him a large plastic bag full of his stuff. "This is everything that was found on you when you came in," she explained brightly. "Your cell phone is in there; it miraculously survived the crash. You sister's been calling too. I hope you don't mind that I answered the phone and told her what was going on. She said she's on her way here."

The words made no sense. Sam stared at the nurse, uncomprehending. "My sister?" he repeated dumbly.

She frowned at him. "Yes, your sister. Lynn?"

_Lynn_. Of course Lynn. She had called, and she was coming – which meant she was alive. Sam clutched the bed sheets underneath him, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Right," he said aloud. "My sister. Lynn. Good, that's… good."

The nurse smiled again. "Great. Now, your brother's in room 319…"

He didn't stick around to listen to anything else the woman had to tell him. At the mention of Dean, Sam leapt to his feet and raced out of the room, anxiously searching for room 319.

When he finally found the room in question, he froze in the doorway, shocked. Dean was laying in the hospital bed, pale and unmoving, his skin flecked with scratches and surgical tape, connected to several machines with plastic tubes. Sam swallowed, taking his steps slow as he crossed into the room and made his way to the bedside.

"Oh god," he murmured, staring down at Dean.

This could not be happening.

"Your father's awake," a voice sounded from the door. Sam whirled around, finding a doctor standing in the doorway. He was an African-American man, short, with his dark hair turning gray. "You can see him if you like," the doctor pressed.

Sam glanced back at Dean. "Doc, what about my brother?" he asked.

The doctor took a deep breath. "Well, he sustained serious injury – blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidneys. But it's the head trauma I'm worried about. There are early signs of cerebral edema."

Sam gulped, the doctor's diagnosis staggering him. He gawked down at Dean, and then looked up at the doctor again. "Well, what can we do?" he demanded.

"We won't know his full condition until he wakes up."

Sam nodded slowly. The doctor studied him a moment. "_If_ he wakes up," the man added.

"If?" Sam snapped.

"I have to be honest," the doctor told him. "Most people with this degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. He's fighting very hard. But you need to have realistic expectations."

The words left Sam breathless. He stood still a moment, silent, staring at the wall behind the doctor's head. His eyes were burning, and it took a lot of effort to keep the sudden stinging tears at bay. _Realistic expectations_.

No, he would not accept this. He hadn't accepted it back in Nebraska, and he wasn't accepting it now. His father would know what to do.

He looked the doctor in the eye. "Can you take me to see my Dad now please?"

The doctor studied him another moment, and then nodded his head once. "Of course."

Sam followed the doctor down the hall and into his father's room. John looked up at the door as they entered and Sam heaved a sigh of relief. His father looked worse for wear – pale skin, bags under his eyes, and his arm wrapped up in a cast – but he was wide awake, and it was clear he would recover.

After a few comments regarding the elder Winchester's condition, and a hint about insurance, the man left. Sam was not sorry to see him go. John fished his wallet out from the nightstand once they were alone, and managed to dig his insurance card out of the old, weathered leather with his one good arm. Sam winced, taking in the sight.

"Here," his father rasped, handing him the dark blue insurance card. "Give them my insurance."

Sam frowned down at the name on the card, and then smirked up at his father. "Elroy McGillicutti?" he asked.

John smirked back. "And his two loving sons."

Sam took a seat at his father's bedside. "So," John began, swallowing. "What else did the doctor say about Dean?"

He shook his head in response to his father's question. "Nothing."

There was a brief moment of silence. Sam took a deep breath. "Look," he announced. "If the doctors won't do anything, then we'll have to, that's all. I don't know…" the words seemed to come from somewhere else, from someone else… "I'll find some hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on him or something."

His father sounded a little too patient for Sam's tastes. "We'll look for someone."

"Yeah," Sam agreed distractedly.

"But Sam," John pressed gently. "I don't know if we're going to find anything."

These were not the words Sam had expected to hear. "Why not?" he demanded. "I found that faith healer before."

John shook his head. "That was… one in a million…"

"So, what?" Sam exploded, suddenly furious with the man sitting in front of him. "What, do we just sit here with our thumbs up our ass?"

"No, of course not," John retorted. "I said we'd look. All right? I'll check under every stone."

Sam nodded. There was another brief silence.

"Where's the Colt?" John asked.

Instantly, the fury took hold again. "Your son is dying," Sam snapped. "And you're worried about the Colt?"

"We are hunting this demon," his father returned testily. "And maybe it's hunting us too. That gun may be our only cover."

Sam stared at his father for a moment, absorbing the argument, trying to decide if it was good enough. "It's in the trunk," he finally said. "They dragged the car to a yard off I-83."

"All right, you got to clean out that trunk before some junkman sees what's inside."

"I already called Bobby. He's like an hour out. He's going to tow the Impala back to his place."

John nodded, and then started issuing orders. "You go meet up with Bobby, you get the Colt, and you bring it to me. And you watch out for hospital security."

Sam smirked at that. "I think I've got it covered."

John smirked back. Sam slowly got to his feet, and ambled off to follow orders.

"Hey," his father stopped him. Sam froze and turned towards him. John handed him a piece of paper. "I made a list of things I need. Have Bobby go and get them for me."

Sam frowned at the list. "Acacia?" he asked. "Oil of Abramelin? What's this stuff for?"

"Protection."

He nodded at his father's reply, and then made to leave again. Yet he stopped one more time, sighing heavily, and turned back around. "Dad," he announced. "You know the demon… he said he had plans for me, and children like me. Do you have any idea what he meant by that?"

His eyes fell desperately on his father's face, which remained stoic and impassive. John shook his head mildly. "No, I don't."

It was hardly a satisfying answer. Sam forced his lips to twitch into a short lived little smile, and then he turned away from his father one more time, finally leaving the room.

Lynn was coming, he reminded himself. He was going to see Bobby. Someone had to know _some_ way to help his brother.

* * *

Sioux City General was a seriously dark, depressing hospital. It hadn't exactly been welcoming from the outside, but once Jayne stepped through the sliding automatic doors, the gloomy atmosphere had instantly increased. It was a dimly lit, dark brown, faux marble maze of a place, and it reeked like sick people.

Lynn was next to her, rambling about wings and wards and room numbers, but to be perfectly honest, Jayne wasn't listening. She doubted Steve was either. Her little brother was tagging along behind them, glancing about the hospital, clearly uncomfortable. Jayne was actually surprised the kid was even still there.

She let Lynn lead the way down the hall. They were almost to the wing in question, when a familiar, unreasonably tall head appeared on the other end of the hallway.

"Sam!" Lynn exclaimed, her voice bouncing off the walls.

The young man looked up, squinting through a swollen eye. Immediately, he brightened. "Lynn?" he called back.

Lynn brushed past her sister, jostling Jayne's arm. Raising her eyebrow, Jayne watched as Lynn jogged down the hall, meeting Sam halfway and throwing her arms around him. Sam hugged her back, his face relaxing in what could only be described as relief. Jayne glanced at Steve, who lifted his eyebrows at her, looking both teasing and skeptical.

She shrugged and made her way towards the other two, Steve following on her heels. Lynn and Sam separated as they joined them. "Hey, guys," Sam breathed. "Thanks for getting here."

Lynn smacked in the arm. "You know damn well we were planning on coming back," she informed him. "Of course we're here now."

Sam nodded, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. Jayne frowned at him, taking in his scratched up face, bloody jacket and swollen eye, but Sam immediately frowned too, his eyes roving over the three of them. "What _happened _to you guys?"

Jayne knew damn well the three of them looked a sight. Steve's arm was stitched shut and wrapped in gauze, but he'd yet to change his shirt, and there was a big patch of dried blood staining the sleeve. Lynn's eyes were black in the corners around her broken nose, which Deedee had mickey-mouse fixed with a small, stiff butterfly-style bandage. Her finger was wrapped in gauze and splinted with a stirrer from the tavern.

As for Jayne, she had a black eye and split lip, and bruises forming all over the place. Lynn smiled bright in response to Sam's question, waving it away. "Oh, we're fine. It's no biggie."

Sam looked like he disagreed, but he didn't press. "How's Rufus?" He wanted to know.

"He's fine," Jayne returned. "Wasn't missing after all."

"Deedee was possessed," Lynn said in a rush. "By Faye – this demon we exorcised? Anyway, she got out and she wanted revenge, blah, blah, blah. Rufus was away on a hunt, and he came back just in time to help exorcise her again. The weird thing is, she said she knew the demon we'd been hunting…"

"Sam," Jayne interrupted her sister. "What's going on?"

She could feel it, in her gut, that something was terribly wrong. The pained expression that crossed Sam's face when she asked the question only confirmed it. "My dad's fine," he said. "He's awake and all. I was on my way out to meet our old friend Bobby Singer. We have to get the Impala out of the junkyard before someone finds out what's in the trunk."

There was so much more to this story. Jayne narrowed her eyes at Sam expectantly. Lynn had stopped trying to fill the silent, tense air with rambling, and she too was watching Sam, waiting for explanations. Her eyes were big and anxious. Steve was scratching the back of his neck, looking very uncomfortable.

"Dean's uh… he's not good," Sam admitted softly, messing with the collar on his bloodstained coat. "He's… there was a lot of internal damage, and he lost a lot of blood, and… and there was a head injury…"

Sam was stumbling over his words, and Jayne's stomach clenched up in sudden fear. "The doctor… he doesn't think Dean's going to wake up," Sam whispered.

There was a long, pregnant silence. Jayne swallowed, staring at Sam. Lynn had made a tiny noise, something between a squeak and a gasp, and now she was alternating staring at both Jayne and Sam in concern.

Jayne could feel Steve's eyes on her too, but she kept staring at Sam. She could see desperation above all else in the youngest Winchester's eyes, and suddenly she knew they were on the same page.

"Bullshit," she announced.

Everyone stared at her. "What?" Lynn asked.

"Bullshit," Jayne repeated. "Of course he's waking up."

Lynn and Steve were staring at her, gawking in silence, their faces contorted with something that far too closely resembled pity for her tastes. Sam looked her in the eye, swallowing visibly, his expression… grateful.

"Which room is he in?" Jayne asked.

"319," Sam replied.

She nodded. "I'm going to go see him. We'll meet up when you get back."

Sam nodded too. "I'll help you with the car," Lynn spoke up. "Steve, could you...?"

"Sure," her brother interrupted. "Yeah, I'll come."

"Later," Jayne said shortly. Then she headed off down the hall, searching for room 319. It didn't take long to find the room. She marched right in through the door, but froze once her eyes landed on the bed.

Goddamn déjà vu. Jayne was instantly transported back to Nebraska, where Dean had been lying all pale and purple and weak in a hospital bed, much like he was now – only this was much worse. He was hooked up to several machines. A maze of plastic tubes connected to his body. Dean looked battered and broken and… well, he barely looked alive.

She coughed, struggling with the seizing of her throat and the stinging in her eyes. Why in the hell had she left him and his brother alone?

For a long moment, she stood there in the doorway, staring at him. Then she took a deep, steadying breath, blinking back the tears threatening her eyes, and crossed over to his bed. She pulled out the chair positioned nearby and dropped unceremoniously into it. There was another long moment of silence, broken only by the bleeping of his machines, as she stared at his pale, still face.

"Unbelievable," she announced, and her voice sounded foreign and wrong, echoing around the too quiet room. She cleared her throat, and forced a smile – not that it mattered. He couldn't see it, or hear her. "I leave you alone for what? Twenty-four hours? Thirty-six tops? And this is the kind of mess you go and get yourself into?"

Nothing but silence echoed back at her, save the beeping machine on her left. Jayne chuckled under breath. "This is stupid. I'm talking to a vegetable."

He didn't move; he didn't make a noise. The machine kept beeping in her ear. She inhaled shakily, blinking back another stinging round of tears. "I don't know," she muttered. "Dean? Can you even hear me?"

Silence again. She chose to take it as an affirmation. "Just so you know, I'm not going anywhere."

The room was silent. Dean lay still and pale in the hospital bed.

Jayne forced out another smirk. "So… whenever you decide to stop wasting my time and wake the hell up? I'll be right here."

* * *

It was official; this whole out-of-body experience, _Ghost Whisperer_ bullshit totally sucked ass. Dean's day as a ghost was one of the worst days of his life. He'd spent it following Sam around and listening to a bunch of quack doctors telling his little brother that Dean wouldn't wake up – which was crap, because Dean was definitely waking up. Then after Sam had left to get the car, Dean had spent his time in his father's hospital room, watching and waiting to see what the man would do – what the man might know.

John knew something – that much was obvious. But he wasn't doing anything, and Dean was getting pissed. After moping about his room a bit, John got a nurse to help him into his wheelchair and wheel him down the hall.

Dean followed, anger fading into curiosity. The nurse wheeled John to Dean's hospital room. Dean ducked around them both, heading inside first.

He stopped short inside the door, staring at the person sitting at his bedside. She was tall and blonde and her eyes were fixed intently on Dean's comatose body.

"Goldilocks," he said, his breath hitching around the nickname. "I… when the hell did you get here?"

The nurse wheeled John into the room just then, and Jayne glanced over her shoulder at the doorway. Dean watched his father's eyebrows lift up in mild surprise. The nurse frowned. "Um… are you family?" she asked.

"Yep," Jayne returned shortly, not bothering to offer an explanation. She glared at John, like she was daring him to argue. He didn't.

"Thanks for the lift," he told the nurse. "We'll be fine for now."

The nurse nodded and backed out of the room. John wheeled himself across the room and around the foot of the bed, parking the chair on the opposite side. Neither one of them spoke to the other. Dean stared at the two of them. His eyes kept coming back to Jayne, taking in her split lip and slightly purple eye.

"God, it's good to see you," he told her. She said nothing; didn't even look his way. Her eyes were fixed on his unconscious body. "I thought you were… I mean… well, you're not, so… you look good, considering…"

She couldn't hear a damn word he was stuttering, so he clammed up and stared at her some more. John glanced her way.

"When'd you get here?" he asked gruffly.

"About half an hour ago," Jayne replied, not looking at him. "You don't look so bad, considering you were smashed up by an eighteen-wheeler."

John's lips twitched into an almost smile. Silence descended on the room again. Dean watched the two of them, getting more and more frustrated with every passing silent second. "Come on!" he exploded. Neither of them even flinched. "Seriously? I'm dying here, and you two can't even muster up enough effort to _discuss_ it? Aren't you even going to _try_ to help me?"

His words had no effect on anybody; they still couldn't hear him, couldn't see him… couldn't even sense him. Dean glared at the two silent hunters sitting on either side of his bed. John cleared his throat. "You think I could get a minute alone with my boy?" he asked.

Jayne eyed him for a moment, but eventually nodded in agreement. "Sure," she practically grunted, getting to her feet. Dean watched her go, wide-eyed. She stopped by the door.

"You got a plan, right?" she asked. John stared at her. "To get him out of this?" Jayne elaborated. "Sam's going to expect a plan."

John kept staring. Slowly, he spoke. "I'm doing what I can."

Jayne stared back for a moment. John looked away, focusing his eyes determinedly on Dean's face. She scoffed. "Right. What you can. Of course you are."

Then she marched out the door and down the hall.

Dean watched her go; staring at the spot she'd been even long after she was gone. Tearing his eyes away from the door with more effort than should have been necessary, Dean looked instead at his father. John was still sitting by the bed, not moving, not talking… not doing a damn thing. Dean watched him do nothing for a very long time before he lost it.

"Come on, Dad," he whispered. "You've got to help me."

There was no reaction, of course. John couldn't hear him. But Dean couldn't stop begging. "I've got to get better," he pleaded. "I got to get back in there."

Silence met his pleading. Dean could feel the frustration and the anger building inside him, boiling up and bubbling out. "You haven't called a soul for help!" he exclaimed accusingly. "Aren't you going to do anything?"

John didn't move; John didn't even speak. He'd asked for a moment alone, just so he could stare at Dean's unconscious face and say nothing. "_Aren't you even going to say anything?_" Dean shouted.

More silence and more nothing. "I've done everything you've ever asked me," Dean reminded his father – even though his father couldn't hear any of it. "_Everything_. I've given everything I've ever had! And you're just going to sit there and watch me die?"

John shifted in his chair a little, still glaring moodily at the hospital bed. Dean's rage increased tenfold. "_What the hell kind of father are you?_"

It didn't matter, though, what Dean screamed at the man. Nothing changed. He was silent and invisible, and there was no way to communicate with his father, or with Sam, or with Jayne. Dean's desperation was mounting.

He heard a noise then – like a gust of wind. Not the sort of noise you heard deep inside a hospital. "What was that?" Dean asked out loud, marching for the door. As he tried to step into the hall, a large, white, specter-like shape flew past, knocking him backwards. Dean jumped, and then froze, as the specter carried on down the hall.

Dean glanced behind him. Still no reaction from his father. "I'll take it you didn't see that," he quipped, before taking off down the hallway, determinedly chasing the ghost.

He moved quickly in the same direction he'd seen the specter go, eyes peeled for any sign of the thing. Frantic, he waded through a sea of doctors, nurses, and patients, none of whom even looked at him. As far as they were concerned, he didn't exist.

Dean made his way down a dark hall, still seeing no sign of the ghost. Then, as he passed a door, he _felt_ something cold brush past him, darting out of the room behind his back. Dean whirled, catching the tail end of the white robed specter in his sights as it zoomed off up the hallway and into another room. He raced after it, freezing in the doorway. The specter was gone, but the nurse from before was lying on the floor, gasping for air and choking out a plea for help. Dean gawked at her, at a loss for what to do.

"Hey!" he barked uselessly at the doctor standing five feet down the hall. "I need some help in here!"

Obviously, the doctor didn't even look up. Dean rushed into the room, kneeling beside the gasping, choking woman. Wide-eyed, he stared at her, having no way to help.

Her gasping ended abruptly and she lay too still, her wide empty eyes staring up at the ceiling. Dean knelt beside her in horror, his panic and desperation from earlier hitting him even harder than before.

There was something besides him haunting this hospital.

* * *

Lynn parked Jayne's rusty old truck outside a junkyard off of I-83, sighing as she shut down the ignition. There was a giant blue tow truck parked nearby, spackled with rust spots and covered in driving dust. An older man with a beer gut and a greasy old baseball cap was leaning against the tow truck, his eyes fixed on Janis.

Beside her in the cab, Steve let out a low whistle. "You might be a redneck if…"

"Zip it," Lynn ordered, smacking him on the arm. She swung open the door and hopped down from the truck. Steve followed her example, and she met Sam outside, who had elected to ride along in the bed of the truck. Lynn made a face. It was damp out, and the sky was overcast.

The three of them approached the tow truck. Sam shook hands with the old man. "Bobby," he greeted him. "Um, these are my friends… Lynn and Steve Juarez. Guys, this is Bobby Singer."

Lynn shook the older man's hand, even though it was smudged with motor oil. "Nice to meet you," she said, forcing a bright smile. Her brother merely nodded at the man.

"Likewise," Bobby grunted, and she got the distinct impression he didn't entirely mean it. Put out, Lynn frowned as Sam led the rest of them inside the junkyard to look for Dean's Impala.

They passed stack after stack of crushed cars, weaving in and out of various wrecks parked inside the expansive, muddy, fenced-in lot. When they finally reached the Impala, Lynn couldn't help gasping out loud. Her hand flew to her mouth and she stopped short.

"Man," Sam announced. "Dean is going to be pissed."

Steve whistled. "Yikes," he offered.

The car was twisted into an odd shape; a barely recognizable shell of its former self. Lynn shook her head at the wreck. All the glass was gone, the frame was contorted into odd shapes, and things were falling off the poor old car even as they stood there, staring at it.

"Oh my god," Lynn murmured. "You were _inside_ that thing?"

Sam shrugged at her, a small, sheepish smile crossing his face. Bobby shook his head, sauntering over to what used to be Dean's beloved Impala. "Look, Sam… this just ain't worth the tow," he said. Lynn watched as Bobby lifted up the hood, winced at whatever was under there, and then shut it again. The hood of the car simply fell off its hinges and nearly slid onto the ground. Lynn flinched at the resulting thump.

"I say we clear out the trunk and sell the rest for scrap," Bobby finished.

"No," Sam insisted, shaking his head. Lynn watched him fish his laptop out of the backseat and try to open it. The monitor fell apart in his hands. "Dean would kill me if we did that. When he gets better, he's going to want to fix this."

Lynn swallowed, her eyes roving over the wrecked car and the shattered laptop. Sam was barely holding it together, she could tell. Her brother shifted uncomfortably beside her, scrutinizing the wreck as well.

"There's nothing to fix," Bobby argued. "The frame's a pretzel, the engine's ruined… there's barely any parts worth salvaging."

Sam was still shaking his head. "Listen, Bobby," he replied, his voice low and determined. "If there's even one working part, that's enough. We're not just going to give up on it…"

He stopped himself, his mouth twitching strangely as though the words tasted bad. Lynn chewed her lip, watching him. She hated this; she hated everything that was happening right now. The look on Sam's face… the state of the car… the state of _Dean_… it was like Nebraska all over again. She couldn't stand it.

Steve was poking at the mud with the toe of his boot. She looked at him, and he shrugged. Obviously, he was uncomfortable. Obviously, he wanted to be somewhere else. Bobby was picking up on the air in the junkyard too, seeing something in Sam's face that Sam was trying to conceal. Lynn saw it too, and she sighed under her breath. She wanted to say something to him, wanted to find a way to convey that the car was not Dean, and Dean was not the car…

"Ok," Bobby spoke up, his eyes never leaving Sam's face. His nod was little more than a tuck of his patchily bearded chin. "You got it."

There was a short pause. "So," Steve spoke up awkwardly. "We cleaning this heap out or what?"

Lynn side-eyed him. Steve shrugged. "Yeah, sure," Sam said hastily, sounding slightly embarrassed. "Um… Bobby." He fished a sheet of paper out of his coat and handed it to the older man. "Dad asked if you could get this stuff for him."

Bobby frowned at the list. Sighing, Lynn made a move towards the Impala, intent on cleaning the thing out and getting the hell out of the junkyard. "What'd John want with this?" Bobby asked as Lynn tried to make sense of the now dysfunctional trunk.

"Protection from the demon," Sam replied.

Bobby looked shocked by that little statement. Lynn abruptly stopped messing with the wrecked Impala and straightened her back, raising her eyebrow in Bobby's direction. The man looked from the list to Sam and back again.

"What?" Sam frowned.

The other hunter was reluctant to talk. "Nothing," he shrugged. Lynn didn't buy it for a minute. "It's just, uh…"

"Bobby," Sam insisted. Bobby tensed up, looking at a loss for what to do next. "What's going on?"

Steve popped up behind Bobby's shoulder and squinted at the list in his hand. Too late, Bobby noticed, and tried to dart away. "Acacia?" Steve asked, screwing up his nose. "Oil of Abramelin?" Her little brother snorted. "Sam, that's no protection charm your old man's working. That's a summoning ritual."

"Damn it," Bobby spat. "You pain in the…"

"A summoning ritual?" Lynn interrupted. "But… why would John want to summon the demon? That doesn't…"

"What?" Sam snapped. "Make sense? Of course it does. It makes perfect sense. Sure, Dean's dying, and everything's gone to hell, but leave it to my Dad to still be focused on killing the demon!"

His shouting echoed across the junkyard. Lynn winced, staring at him incredulously. Bobby sighed, shaking his head. "Look, Sam, I'm sorry…"

"Don't be," Sam cut off the older man. "Not your fault. It's my Dad. It's always my Dad."

"Sam," Lynn chided softly.

"It is," Sam retorted. "That just figures. Dean's in the hospital, and instead of looking for way to fix him, Dad's hell bent on having some stupid macho show down. I could… I just… damn it!"

He brought his fist down too hard on the back of the Impala. Lynn jumped back a step as the lid of the trunk slid off its hinges and hit the ground. Steve whistled again, raising his eyebrows at Sam's little display.

"I'll just… grab the tow truck," Bobby announced. No one even looked at him, so he backed away a few steps, and then hightailed it for the exit.

Sam took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair, and stomping away from the car. Lynn watched him go, defeated. There was a loud _crack_ from behind her and she whirled around, finding her little brother standing sheepishly by the car, one of the side mirrors in his hand.

"Oops?" he offered.

Lynn sighed. "This has all gone to hell."

Steve shrugged. "Is it always like this with the Winchesters?"

Lynn shrugged back.

"And yet you and Jaynie… you just ride with them anyway? Put up with their crap?"

"We don't put up with crap," Lynn snapped at him. "We just… usually things aren't this… intense."

Which was kind of a lie, if Lynn was being honest with herself. Things with the Winchesters were always intense.

Steve shrugged again, shaking his head. "Whatever."

Lynn snatched Sam's totaled laptop off the hood of the car and cradled the decimated thing to her chest. She took a deep, steadying breath, and slowly exhaled.

She didn't have the first clue how to fix this.

* * *

Dean hadn't been this freaked out in a long time, but the circumstances were extenuating. He was having an out of body experience, he had no idea how to wake himself up, and now there was some sort of homicidal ghost running around the hospital, and only he could see it. Worst of all, he had no way of stopping it, or communicating its presence to anyone else.

He felt like panicking. Immediately after the nurse died in front of him, Dean rushed back to his room, but his father was gone – not that it mattered. His father couldn't hear him anyway. Cussing, Dean made to move past the room, but stopped short when he came face to face with Jayne.

His eyes went wide as he took in her face, but she didn't react. She still couldn't see him. Dean watched as she moved past him, marching back into his hospital room and reclaiming her chair by his bed. He stared at the back of her head.

"Jaynie," he said. "Jaynie… you got to hear me, ok? You got to know I'm out here. There's something in this hospital, Jayne, and it's killing people! I need you to hear me!"

But she wouldn't hear him. Dean shook his head in desperation, stomping all the way into the room. Jayne was staring down at the hospital bed.

"Damn it!" he bellowed at her, but nothing happened. "Would you look at me? Jayne…"

"You know you have to wake up, right?"

Her voice rang out in the room, clear and loud. Dean jumped, startled. "Come again?" he retorted.

She didn't look his way, or reply to the question. Dean's shoulders slumped. She couldn't see him or hear him – she was talking to the other him, the him that was lying in bed like a vegetable.

"Seriously," she told his body. "You have to wake up."

"Trust me," he returned, exasperated. "It's not like I'm not trying."

"Sam's freaking out," she went on, not knowing he'd spoken. Dean stood silently, watching her watch him. "He wants to find a way to save you. I think he'll do just about anything."

He swallowed, hard. She shook her head and closed her eyes, gripping the bridge of her nose as she leaned back in the chair. "Hell," she whispered. "Me too."

For a long time, she said nothing else. Dean couldn't bring himself to yell again, to try to get her attention… he just stared at her. "You know," he finally told the woman sitting in front of him, even though she couldn't hear him. "This is _so_ you."

She said nothing. She didn't even open her eyes.

"You _would_ toss out the emotional confessions when I'm comatose," he smirked. "When I'm awake? Nothing. But the moment I'm a freaking carrot, that's when you get chatty."

Her eyes flew open and she sat up straight in the chair, leaning towards him ever so slightly. For a moment, Dean thought she might have heard him, but that was wishful thinking.

"Here's the deal, Winchester," she announced. "You are not allowed to die."

Dean smirked again.

"You're just not," she went on. "So wake up! Ok? You have to wake up, because… because… because I'm not so sure I can do this without you."

Her voice petered out in a hoarse, tiny whisper. Dean's smirk faded. Jayne stared at him, shaking her head again. "Hey," he said. She couldn't hear him. "Hey, Jaynie, come on."

"I wish I could say it wouldn't matter," she murmured. "I wish I could say I'd get over it, but… look, just wake up, ok? You have to wake up, Dean. If you don't… you just have to, because…"

She trailed off, slumping forward with her elbows perched on her knees, and buried her face in her hands. He stared at her, wide-eyed, and slowly moved towards her.

Jayne lifted her head from her hands and Dean saw a tear rolling down her cheek. "Damn it, Dean," she whispered. "I… I just… oh, fine. I'm in love with you."

He gawked at her. She was just shaking her head, a tear occasionally slipping past her eyelashes and dribbling down her cheek. Her eyes were fixed on his body. Dean reached her chair and knelt down, staring at the side of her face. It was unreal, how she didn't even know he was there. Shaking his head, Dean kept staring at her, trying to absorb the enormity of the words she'd just said.

"Jaynie," he murmured. "I… you…" He choked, shaking his head again. "Oh, hell. I'm in love with you too, Goldilocks."

What was wrong with them? This was not the way this was supposed to happen, Dean reflected bitterly. Why couldn't they say it before – hell, why didn't he realize it before? Why did it take something like this to make him fully grasp what he felt for her?

He reached out, wishing he could touch her, knowing he couldn't. Still, his finger came up to her cheek reflexively. He wanted to wipe her latest tear away.

That's when it happened. His finger touched her cheek. He felt the warmth and the softness of her skin as his finger brushed against it, miraculously wiping away one little teardrop. Dean's eyes went wide, and he gawked at his hand.

She jumped, her eyes startled, and turned her head towards him. The moment ended abruptly, and suddenly Dean couldn't feel her cheek anymore. He drew his hand away, having officially lost the connection. But she had still felt it.

"Holy hell," he exclaimed. His eyes were as huge as hers. "I think you and I just had a Patrick Swayze pottery wheel moment."

Her hand flew up to her cheek. She glanced all around him, her eyes somehow always slipping past his face. "Dean?" she asked hoarsely, her face twisted with confusion and disbelief… and maybe a little hope.

He smirked at her. "Right here, Goldilocks."

Jayne looked back down at his body. "Shit," she whispered.

Dean watched her expectantly. Suddenly, she leapt to her feet, knocking the chair over with a _clang!_ "Sam?" she called, rushing out of the room. "Sam!"

He shook his head, staring after her. A single, disbelieving chuckle escaped his throat. "That's my girl," he murmured, a small smile crossing his face.

All of a sudden, he began to feel just the tiniest bit hopeful.

* * *

Sam marched into his father's hospital room, duffel bag slung on his shoulder, his head spinning with rage. Lynn trailed behind him, Steve pausing in the doorway. His father was lying in bed, wide awake, and Sam stalked right past him, stopping by the window.

"Hi, John," Lynn chirped as Sam continued to ignore his father.

His father grunted something in reply. Sam shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the window. He needed a moment to collect himself; to really gather together what he wanted to say. Sam could feel his father's eyes on him, and he heard Steve mumble something to Lynn before hauling ass out of there.

Figured. Smart guy.

"How are you feeling?" Lynn asked kindly.

"Like my arm's broken," John retorted.

There was a short pause. "Oh," she said in a tiny voice. Then Lynn lapsed into silence too, and the three of them stood in the hospital room, not talking and completely awkward.

"You're quiet," John observed when Sam kept glaring out the window.

Sam whirled around, his glare now directed at his father. For a moment, he just stared at him. Then he stomped over to him and threw the bag down on his bed. Lynn flinched by the door. "You think I wouldn't find out?" Sam barked at his father.

"What are you talking about?" John replied.

"That stuff from Bobby! You don't use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one!" Sam practically exploded. John looked away, annoyance flickering in his eyes, which only served to further aggravate Sam. "You're planning on the bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid macho showdown?"

"I have a plan, Sam."

"_That's exactly my point!_" Sam shouted. "Dean is _dying_, and you have a plan! You care more about killing this demon than you do about saving your son!"

"Sam," Lynn spoke up from the doorway. "I think maybe we all need to take a deep breath…"

"_Do not tell me how I feel!_" John thundered, drowning out the rest of her sentence. "I am doing this for Dean."

"_How?_" Sam retorted. "How is revenge going to help him? You're not thinking about anyone but yourself! It's the same, selfish obsession!"

"Sam!" Lynn barked.

"You know, I thought this was your obsession too!" John shouted back, ignoring Lynn. "This demon killed your mother; killed your girlfriend!"

"John, stop…" Lynn intervened, but he kept right on yelling.

"You _begged_ me to be part of this hunt! Now, if you'd killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened!"

"It was possessing you, Dad!" Sam reminded him. "I would have killed you too!"

"Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now!"

"Hey!" Lynn exclaimed. "Both of you! _Stop it, _right now! This is _not _helping Dean…"

"Go to hell," Sam hissed at his father, cutting off Lynn's attempt at reason.

"I should have never taken you along in the first place! I _knew_ it was a mistake…!"

_Crash!_

John stopped yelling abruptly. Sam jumped, whirling around at the sound of breaking glass. The water glass on John's bedside table had flown across the room, spilling water as it went, and shattered against the hard linoleum floor.

Sam gawked at the broken glass, and glanced at his father. John looked as shocked as he felt. "Holy crap," Lynn murmured on his left, her eyes fixed on the spilled water. "What the hell was that?"

Before anyone could speak another word, Jayne flew into the hospital room, breathless. "Sam!" she exclaimed. "I…"

Sam frowned at her. She stopped short, frowning at all the people in the room, before shaking her head and barreling right along. "I was just in Dean's room, and… look, I don't know exactly what just happened, but I could _swear_…"

Jayne trailed off, her mouth moving uselessly as she searched for the right words. "What?" John barked.

"Will you shut up?" Lynn snapped at him.

Jayne didn't pay either of them any mind. Sam frowned again as she focused nearly all her attention on him. "He was _there_," she said. "Dean was… it was like he was there, but… not in his body. Does that make any sense?"

Sam stared at her. "Uh… I don't…"

"Jaynie," Lynn murmured sympathetically. "Look, I know you're having a hard time with all this…"

"Oh, do not start with the 'poor Jayne, she's losing her mind,' bull crap," Jayne interrupted fiercely. "I am not losing my mind, ok? I swear to you, I was sitting in that room and then it was like he was there. Like he was awake, but I couldn't see him. He was just… I _felt _him, ok? And… look, I _literally _felt something, like… like someone was… touching my face."

She huffed out a long breath, fixing her eyes on the floor. Sam frowned at her, not sure how to take the news, what do with it, if he should even credit it as fact. His father was making the most ridiculous face ever, frowning at Jayne like she wasn't stable. Lynn clucked her tongue. "Jaynie, I don't think…"

"It happened!" Jayne retorted. "Ok? I… he's _here_ somehow. He's just… Sam, you believe me, right?"

Sam stared at the broken glass for a moment, still frowning. Then he looked back at Jayne and met her eyes. Slowly, he nodded.

"I believe you," he murmured.

And that was when the chaos started in the hallway. Sam heard a gargled voice on the PA system, calling people to help in one of the nearby rooms. Nurses and doctors ran up the hallway, past his father's hospital room. Sam watched them uneasily, sharing a spooked look with first Jayne, and then Lynn.

"Something's going on out there," John observed. Sam made eye contact with his father. John jerked his head towards the door, and Sam immediately followed the silent order.

Jayne and Lynn were on his heels as he rushed down the corridor, his stomach turning with dread. Sure enough, when he reached Dean's hospital room, he found that the nurses and doctors had convened around his older brother's bed. They were yelling things at one another, checking stats, fighting to be heard over the blaring alarms on all the little machines connected to Dean. Sam froze in the doorway, leaning against the frame, staring wide-eyed as the paddles came out.

"Clear!"

The doctor jolted Dean's chest with electricity. Dean jerked on the bed, but nothing changed. Sam's eyes swam with tears, and his chest constricted painfully. "No," he whispered.

Lynn rested her hand on his arm. Sam didn't shake her off, but he didn't acknowledge her presence either. He just stared at his brother, watching the nurses and doctors struggle to keep him alive. Jayne was standing there too, just outside, staring through the window. Her fingers rested lightly on the glass; her eyes were fixed on the scene around Dean's bed.

"Ok, let's go again. 360."

"Charging."

"All clear?"

"Clear!"

Sam winced slightly as the doctor hit Dean's chest again with the paddles. Dean's body jerked on the bed once again. Nothing was helping.

"Still no pulse!"

His lip was trembling, and the tears were escaping his eyes now. "Starting CPR!" the doctor announced. Sam watched, helplessly, as the doctor started pumping on Dean's chest.

And then he heard it. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it was there, barely audible over the sounds of the machines and the hospital staff. Sam frowned, tilting his head, trying to listen. He could swear he heard his brother's voice.

_Get… hell… me… back… I said… back…_

It was clipped, fuzzing in and out like a bad cell phone connection, muffled like it was coming from the other side of a wall. Sam frowned harder, straining to hear more, but the words stopped. He was left with only a prickle at the base of his scalp, as though there were something else… something otherworldly… in the room with them.

Something new was happening over by the bed. Sam jumped, coming back to reality as the doctor stopped thumping on Dean's chest. The erratic beeping of the machines slowed and evened out, and the nurses seemed to calm down. One nurse spoke, saying the best four words Sam had heard in a very long time.

"We have a pulse."


	62. In My Time of Dying

Who the Hell Are You?

Rating: T

AN: Big thanks yous to ColtFan165, ks90, BlueEyedPisces, angeleyenc, Nelle07, SevenYearsLong, SPN Mum, kazza03, Leila, impalame, Joan J., AshlynPaige92, Alazensupernuke, and greentoothbrush for all the reviews!

Well, guys, volume 1 is officially finished. I know, I can't believe it either. It took a seriously long time, right? Anyway, I want to thank all my readers and reviewers and all the people who stuck it out even during those long stretches when it looked like I'd never update again. ;) You all rock. Look for volume 2 to be posted soon, probably in the next couple of weeks, under the name Lonely Is the Night. (Although I will be taking a short break in order to update a few other neglected fics of mine.) Thanks again everybody, and enjoy the last chapter!

P.S. I swear I wrote the section of this chapter that keeps referring to 'the planchette' _before_ last night's episode. I swear it!

* * *

Chapter 62: In My Time of Dying

"Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere. I'm getting that thing before it gets me."

The calm words were a cover masking the undeniable panic forming in his gut. It was a useless gesture, because none of the people Dean was trying to reassure could hear a single word he was saying.

Dean stood in the hallway outside his hospital room, staring at the three people gathered around the door. Sam's expression was a weird mixture of relief and despondence, and he was staring determinedly into the room, probably at Dean's bed. Jayne was before the window, and if he didn't know her so well, he might think there was nothing wrong with her… but he could tell, could see the subtle shifts in the way she stood, the tremble of her lower lip, the way something was just off in her eyes. Lynn and he were not exactly close, but nobody needed to be close to Lynn to see when she was upset. The girl wore her heart on her sleeve, and right now, although she was trying to be the strong, comforting presence in their little huddle, she looked like she was on the verge of tears.

"It's some kind of spirit," he told them, even though nothing he said was reaching their ears. "But I could grab it. And if I can grab it, I can kill it."

If he still had a body, his legs might have been shaking. The memory of the spirit attacking him, of nearly dying – again… Dean remembered listening to his father and brother fighting; he remembered how he'd Swayzed that glass; he remembered the sudden weakness that had overpowered him. He recalled all too clearly coming around to his hospital room, watching the doctors and nurses scramble to save him, seeing that long robed, long-haired, all white specter hovering over his bed. The cold dread that had settled in his stomach… Dean remembered all of it; how he had charged in there, hollering at the spirit to keep away from him, grabbing the thing's arm… it had been more than cold; it had froze him to his very core… and he remembered the thing tossing him into the wall before taking off down the hall.

He'd followed it, but the thing vanished. And now he was back outside his hospital room, talking comfort to three people who couldn't see or hear him. Although, the way Sam turned his head to the left and frowned down the hallway… Dean began to wonder if that psychic, ghost whispering stuff had finally kicked in for his brother.

It didn't matter. Dean stared at the three of them just a moment longer, and then he turned away and went off in search of the specter. He wandered down hall after hall of the hospital ward, peering into rooms and staring at the different patients.

"_Can't you see me? Why won't you look at me?_"

The woman's desperate plea rang out in the hallway, travelling from the direction of the nurses' station. Dean frowned. "Now what?" he grumbled.

He took off towards the voice. As he reached the nurses' station, at the foot of the stairwell, Dean saw a young woman with bobbed black hair and hospital clothing weaving in and out of the passing patients and staff, shouting at them.

"_Why won't you talk to me? Say something – anything!_"

Dean took a chance. "Can you see me?" he called to her.

She whirled around, shocked. He made eye contact with her, something no one had given him since he'd woken up. "Yeah," the woman breathed.

Dean jogged up the stairs. "All right, just, uh…" he trailed off, at a loss for comforting words. "Calm down?" She stared at him. "What's your name?"

"Tessa."

"Ok, good. Tessa. I'm Dean."

She was staring at him in this very hopeless, rather appealing way. He stared back into her big brown watery eyes. "What's happening to me?" she asked him. "Am… am I dead?"

He swallowed. "That sort of depends."

Seconds later, the two of them were standing outside her hospital room, staring at Tessa's body lying in her hospital bed. She was still alive, but she was hooked up to several machines, and there were hoses coming out of her body. An older woman that Dean assumed was her mother sat at her bedside, holding her hand.

Tessa gave him that hopeless look again. "I don't understand. I just came in for an appendectomy."

Dean's breath hitched in his throat. "I hate to bear bad news, but… I think there were some complications."

She shook her head, turning away from the door. "It's just a dream," she insisted. "That's all. Just a very weird, unbelievably vivid dream."

Dean stared at her sympathetically. "Tessa… it's not a dream."

"What else could it be?"

He swallowed, trying to find a way to break this gently. "You ever heard of an out-of-body experience?"

Tessa wrinkled her forehead. "What are you, some New Age-y guy?"

Dean made a face. "You see me messing with crystals or listening to Yanni? It's actually a very old idea. It's got a lot of different names: bilocation, crisis apparitions, fetches? I think it's happening to us. If it is… it means that we're spirits… of people close to death."

She stared at him a moment, and then she turned to look at her body lying in the hospital room. "So we're going to die?"

"No," Dean quickly returned. "Not if we hold on. Our bodies could get better, and we'll snap right back in there and wake up."

Tessa stared at him again, looking him up and down, as though she still didn't quite understand… or, more likely, she really didn't know what to make of him. Dean totally understood – even now, he still wasn't quite sure what to make of his situation.

But he knew one thing: he had people counting on him, and he had to wake up. Sammy, Jaynie, Dad, Lynn… they needed him. Without him around, there was no telling what could happen to any one of them. He had to wake up; he had to get back in the fight; he had to protect them.

He had to find that spirit, and he had to kill it.

* * *

Lynn stood at the foot of John Winchester's bed, listening to Sam and Jayne talk about Dean, all the while with a frown on her face.

Steve had finally returned from his coffee run – totally fake coffee run, that is, thought up for the sole purpose of escaping the whole emotional Winchester situation – and he was leaning against the window, his face screwed up incredulously. She had a feeling the two of them were on the same page.

"What do you mean, you felt something?" John asked his son.

"I mean it felt like… like Dean! Like he was there, just out of eyeshot or something," Sam explained to the best of his ability. Lynn frowned at him, but Sam's eyes were fixed on his father.

"Same here," Jayne murmured. Sam was standing over John's bedside, but Jayne had attached herself to the wall, lingering beside the exit. "It just felt like… like he was there. I don't know."

Sam nodded. "I don't know what it is – if it's my psychic thing or if it's just easier for Dean to connect with Jayne and me… I just don't know. Do you think it's even possible? Do you think Dean could be around?"

Honestly, Lynn wasn't sure what she thought about the whole thing. She'd seen a lot of impossible things in her lifetime, too many to really rule anything out, but this situation with Dean didn't feel real. It felt like desperation.

Not that it mattered. Sam wasn't asking for _her_ opinion; he was asking his father. John smiled slightly. "Anything's possible," he replied.

Sam nodded. "Well, there's one way to find out."

To Lynn's complete amazement, Sam turned away and marched towards the door. "Where are you going?" John called after him.

"I've just… got to pick something up," Sam replied, sounding dodgy. "I'll be back."

"Wait," John said. "Sam, I promise. I won't hunt this demon. Not until we know Dean's ok."

Sam nodded. Then he turned again and walked out the door. Lynn ran after him, not even acknowledging John or her sister. She caught up to him at the end of the hall. "Sam," she called, darting in front of him. He stopped short and blinked at her. "What are you doing? What is this thing you need to pick up?"

Maybe she was being nosy, but Lynn couldn't help herself. Everything was falling apart, and she didn't trust Sam not to do something crazy.

"Nothing. Don't worry; I'll be back soon."

"Sam," she insisted, narrowing her eyes and blocking his way.

He sighed. "Ouija board."

There was a long silence. Lynn raised her eyebrow. "Ouija board?" she asked skeptically.

Sam sighed again, looking harassed. "Well, I've got to find _some_ way to communicate with him! In case you haven't noticed, we're running low on options here."

Lynn pursed her lips and said nothing. "What?" Sam demanded.

"Nothing."

"No, you have something to say. What is it?"

"I just…" Lynn sighed too. "Sam, I know you want to help your brother, but… you know, not everything is supernatural."

He frowned at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I just… don't want you to get your hopes up."

Sam glared at her. "He's _here_, Lynn. I felt him. Jayne felt him!"

Lynn shook her head. "I know, but… I mean, you two don't _really_ know what you felt. It's just that…"

"Stop," Sam cut her off. "I know you're trying to help, but I can't listen to this. I know Dean is here, somewhere, trying to communicate with us, and I have to let him. I have to _help_ him; he _has_ to get better. So just… stop."

Then he brushed past her and practically ran for the exit.

Lynn watched him go, heaving another heavy sigh. She felt useless; she felt helpless. She wanted to _do_ something – she understood why Sam was trying so hard to _do_ something too. But this wasn't a hunt; this was Dean, in the hospital. This was Nebraska all over again, and she had a feeling someone else was going to be seriously hurt – possibly dead – once it was all over.

"Where's he rushing off to?"

Lynn turned at the sound of her brother's voice and found both him and Jayne standing behind her. She shrugged. "He's grabbing something… going to try communicating with Dean, I guess. Doesn't matter."

Jayne cocked an eyebrow. "Matters a little."

Lynn took a deep breath, trying not to make the same mistake twice. "I know you and Sam think you felt Dean's… presence…"

"Don't say it like that," Jayne interrupted. "All skeptic like."

Steve snorted. "Says the resident skeptic."

"Shut it," she snapped. "I know what I felt. He's around here somewhere, somehow… look, whatever. We've got to do _something._ Help him wake up."

Lynn stared at her sister, not sure what to say to that. Steve was staring at Jayne too, his eyes hard and his lips tight. "When did you get like this?" he asked her.

Jayne frowned. "Like what?"

"Like… I don't know. So wrapped up in this Winchester guy that… that you can't see the bigger picture."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jayne retorted. "What bigger picture?"

Steve snorted again. "Exactly."

Jayne took a step forward, looking pissed. Lynn intervened. "Jayne, I think Steve's just trying to point out that… you know… maybe your friendship with Dean is kind of… blinding you to what's really going on."

"I get it," Jayne returned. "You don't believe I really felt anything. But you believe Sam? Because he's the psychic or whatever?"

"Jayne," Lynn said gently. "Sam _does_ have psychic powers. You don't."

"So you believe him but not me?"

"I didn't say I believed him!"

There was a long silence. Lynn immediately regretted her outburst, swallowing and biting her lower lip. She tore her eyes from Jayne, who was glowering at her, gray eyes burning. Lynn studied the floor and took a deep breath, trying to backtrack. "I was just saying that…"

"That you don't believe either of us," Jayne cut her off. "That you think what I felt and what Sam felt is part of some elaborate stages of grief bullshit."

Lynn stared at her, silent, helpless in the face of Jayne's accusation.

Jayne shrugged. "Whatever. Doesn't matter. Sam and I will help him. You two just… stand there. Play skeptic."

Then she turned her back on both of them and headed down the hall, presumably back towards Dean's room. Lynn heaved a sigh, watching her go.

"This sucks," Steve announced.

She nodded. "I know."

"I don't think you do. _This_ sucks, all of this Winchester drama. You and Jayne and the three of them… I don't like what I see."

It was Lynn's turn to frown incredulously at her little brother. "What are you talking about?"

He scoffed. "Seriously? You don't see it? Jayne and her so-called friendship with that Dean guy… well, just look at her! Sitting bedside vigil, playing Demi Moore to his Patrick Swayze… it's not Jayne, Lynn! This isn't her!"

She swallowed at his outburst. On the one hand, he had a point. Jayne was not anybody's Demi Moore. And yet… but he was wrong too. He had to be. No matter what she said or which front she was putting on, Jayne _cared_ about the people in her life. She'd sit bedside vigil… if it were her, if it were Steve… Lynn _thought_ she would… Was this so hard to believe? Was Jayne _actually_ different? Or was Steve just out of touch? After all, months of separation can do that to a person.

Steve wasn't done yet. "And then there's you and Sam."

Lynn frowned again. "What about me and Sam?"

"Don't you get sick of chasing after him every time the guy storms out of a room? Let's face it; he does it a lot."

She scoffed. "Well, you storm out of our _lives_ fairly often, so if I were you, I wouldn't judge!"

"Oh, I see," Steve retorted. "So just because I've made some bad calls recently, I can't call bullshit on anybody else? The guy's a dick to you, Lynn!"

There was a long silence. Lynn gawked at him, wanting to argue but finding she didn't have any valid points. Steve shrugged his shoulders, tossing out his arms in a show of frustration. "I don't get it! I don't get the appeal! I don't understand why you two can't just walk away!"

"Well, _you_ wouldn't," Lynn returned in a low voice, but as true as the retort was, it still felt hollow.

Steve ignored the allusion to all the times he'd bailed and kept right on making his point. "All these guys seem to do is drag my sisters down. I don't like it, Lynn! I don't like them, and I don't like what they've turned the two of you into!"

"And what's that?"

He seemed to relent a bit – but only a bit. His voice was hushed. "Doormats."

Again, there was a long, tense silence. Lynn stared at him, her mouth hanging open, and slowly shook her head. Steve stared back, his mouth set in a firm line, his eyes hard. He wasn't backing down.

"Well," Lynn finally replied. "As usual, I appreciate your biting honesty."

His eyes softened slightly. "Lynn," he began. "I just meant…"

"I got your meaning, loud and clear," she interrupted. Then she turned away and started to walk.

"Where are you going?" he called after her, clearly annoyed.

"Doormat, remember? If you'll excuse me, I have to go lay down in the emergency room and let people walk all over me."

He sighed harshly. "Lynn, come on!"

She ignored his shout and kept right on walking. She didn't know where she was going, or what she was going to do, or even exactly what she felt. Her brother's words had irritated her; she was inarguably angry with him. But there was something else turning her stomach; something else was making her walk away.

It was the fear that he might be right.

* * *

"You know, I got to say, I'm impressed," Dean announced as he ambled down the hospital hallway with his newfound ghost friend. Ever since the big reveal back at Tessa's hospital room, the two of them had been walking the halls together, talking about basically nothing.

"With what?" Tessa asked, swinging her arms.

"You," Dean replied. "Most people in your spot would be Jell-O right now, but you're taking this pretty well. Maybe a little better than me."

They wandered into the stairwell. Tessa stopped, turning to face him and shrugging her shoulders. "Don't get me wrong – at first, I was pretty freaked, but… now I don't know. Maybe I'm dealing."

He frowned. "So you're ok with dying?"

She snorted. "No, of course not. I just think… whatever's going to happen is going to happen. It's out of my control. It's just… fate."

Dean frowned harder, studying her as she spoke. He shook his head. "That's crap."

Tessa frowned this time.

"You always have a choice," Dean went on. "You can either roll over and die, or you can fight, no matter what…"

He was interrupted by the hospital PA system paging a doctor to a nearby room. Dean turned at the sound of running feet, seeing nurses and interns rushing down the hallway. Immediately, he began to chase after them.

"Dean, where are you going?" Tessa called.

"Just wait here!" he returned, before running down the corridor, on the heels of the nurses and the doctor. He jogged a little ways before coming to the room in question and turning into the doorway. Dean froze at the entrance, staring at the scene. A small girl was lying in the hospital bed, the machines around her head beeping like crazy. Nurses surrounded her, and the doctor was shouting out orders, trying to save the little girl's life.

Floating above the child was the white, flimsy-robed specter from earlier, reaching out its long fingers towards the little girl.

"Get away from her!" Dean bellowed, charging into the room. Before he reached the child's bedside, the specter vanished.

The machines were still beeping, and the little girl lay still in her bed. "All right," the doctor announced. "Let's call it."

"Time of death," one of the nurses said, eyes on her wristwatch. "5:11 pm."

"At least she's not suffering anymore," another nurse added quietly.

Dean turned away from the bed, frowning. Something was not quite right about this encounter – something was very, very off. He was beginning to suspect the specter was not actually a specter; it was something much more dangerous – much more natural – and much harder to get rid of. His head spinning and his stomach revolting against the rest of his body, Dean rushed out of the room in a panic, headed straight for his own hospital room, hoping to make contact again with somebody – anybody.

He had the distinct feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was completely screwed.

* * *

When Jayne reentered Dean's hospital room, she was met with a shocking silence that was a stark contrast to the chaos of less than an hour ago. It was so uncomfortably different that for a moment, she found herself unable to cross the threshold. Instead, she lurked in the doorway, leaning against the jamb, and folded her arms across her chest. With her head tilted against the doorframe, she stared silently at Dean's still, pale figure.

She stood like that for a long time, not saying a word, watching his chest rise and fall. Finally, she found her voice.

"So… everyone but Sam and maybe your dad thinks I'm crazy," she announced.

Silence.

Jayne stared at his body, waiting… for what, she wasn't entirely sure. Nothing happened.

"Well, I don't care," she told him. "I know what happened in here."

More silence greeted her proclamation. She shook her head slightly, staring at him. "You know," she said almost conversationally. "A little while ago, my friend Deedee? She gave me this summoning ritual."

Silence. No sound except the beeping of the machines. No gust of wind to blow back the curtains. No ghostly fingertips touching her skin.

"I can still remember it," she went on. "Black cat bone, graveyard dirt, a portrait of yourself… or a beloved object. You know, people didn't always have self portraits lying around back in the day."

She paused, waiting for something – anything. She got nothing.

"So you take all this crap and you shove it in a box and then you bury it at a crossroads, right smack dab in the middle. And that's when the crossroads demon appears."

Was it her imagination? Was she losing it, just the way Lynn and Steve seemed to think she was? Jayne could swear the air in the room had shifted – that something cold and angry was lurking around in there.

"I'm guessing _you'd_ know about the legend of Robert Johnson?" she asked Dean's comatose body. "So you'd know exactly what goes on at the crossroads?"

She felt a prickle at the base of her neck. She could swear a slight breeze had just blown by her face.

"The crossroads are where deals are made," she said.

She waited. Again, she got nothing.

"Maybe popping back into your body isn't that easy," she allowed. "Maybe you can't just make yourself wake up. I don't know. I just… can't let you go without a fight."

She shoved herself off the doorjamb and took a few steps into the hospital room. Her eyes traveled over Dean's body and his bed, and all the machines hooked up to him. Her chair from earlier was still sitting next to the bed. "You need to figure out how to wake up soon," she told him, her eyes on his face. "Because if you make me wait any longer, I'm not sure I can resist finding myself a crossroads and striking up a deal."

_Bam!_

The chair slid across the room, slammed into the wall opposite Dean's bed, and toppled over with a _clank!_ Jayne stared at the chair for a moment, a small smirk playing on her lips.

"Thought you might say that."

"Jayne?"

She whirled at the sound of her name, finding Lynn standing in the doorway. Her sister was frowning at the chair. "Um… what happened?" she asked.

Jayne shrugged. "I'd say a ghost did it, but you'd probably just think I was losing my marbles again."

Lynn sighed. "Jaynie… look, I didn't mean…"

But Lynn never explained what it was she didn't mean. At that moment, Sam burst into the room, a brown paper bag tucked under his arm. "Hey," he greeted them breathlessly.

"Hey," Lynn breathed back, shoving her hands awkwardly into her jeans pockets.

Jayne looked from Sam to Lynn and back again, rolling her eyes. "What's in the bag?"

"Oh, uh…" he cleared his throat, suddenly looking embarrassed. As Jayne watched incredulously, Sam pulled, of all things, a freaking _Ouija board_ out of the bag and held it up so she could see it.

Jayne arched her eyebrow and snorted. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Sam raised his brows at her. "I thought you wanted to contact him."

"Of course I do."

"So… you got any better ideas?"

Did she have any better ideas to contact her comatose best friend with whom she was apparently in love other than using Sam's ridiculous Ouija board? Well, she wished she did, and the fact that she didn't made her feel like a serious loser, but… it was what it was.

She sighed harshly, rolling her eyes again. "Damn it."

Sam smirked, and then glanced around the room. "Dean?" he called.

The only response was the _beep!beep!beep! _of the machines. Jayne shared a look with Lynn, who shrugged, and then she turned her eyes back on Dean. Sam heaved a sigh. "Look," the youngest Winchester announced. "We think maybe you're around, and… if you are? Don't make fun of me for this."

Jayne watched him carry the Ouija board over to the foot of Dean's bed and lay it flat on the ground. He sat down cross-legged in front of the thing and placed his hands on the planchette. Then he glanced over his shoulder at her and Lynn. "Are you two in on this or not?"

Lynn darted a skeptical glance at Jayne, who took a deep breath and marched over to the board. "Fine," she said, sitting next to him and putting her fingers on the planchette as well.

Sam looked at Lynn again. Lynn rolled her eyes and sighed, and then jogged over to their little circle, taking a seat on Sam's left and placing her hands with theirs. Once everyone was settled on the floor, Sam took a deep breath and called out, "Dean? Are you here?"

He was using this weird, deep, mystical-medium-having-a-séance voice, and Jayne snorted involuntarily, choking back a chuckle. Sam glared at her out of the corner of his eye, and she immediately sobered. As ridiculous as this whole thing was, it was the means to a very serious end.

The planchette began to move.

Jayne stiffened and her sister gasped in surprise. "Who's doing that?" Lynn demanded.

"Dean," Sam whispered excitedly.

Lynn looked unconvinced, but Jayne's eyes were focused on the planchette, following its path along the tan colored Ouija board. Her stomach leapt into her throat when the planchette came to a stop, the tiny round window hovering over the word "Yes."

She let loose a breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. Sam laughed out loud. "It's good to hear from you, man!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "It hasn't been the same without you, Dean."

That was the understatement of the millennium. Jayne looked back down at the board and jumped when the planchette started moving again. "Dean," Sam frowned, watching the planchette move too. "What?"

"This is starting to creep me out," Lynn whispered.

The little window stopped over the H. Jayne frowned as it then moved on to U, and finally N. "Hunt," she said suddenly, feeling like a Wheel of Fortune contestant. "What do you mean, hunt? Are you hunting?"

The planchette jerked itself towards the "Yes" again.

"Dean, is it in the hospital?" Sam demanded. "What you're hunting? Do you know what it is?"

The planchette hovered over the "Yes" and didn't move. Jayne swallowed, hard. "What is it?" Sam asked again.

Slowly, Jayne felt the planchette sliding back towards the letters: _R… E… A… P…_

Her breath caught in her chest. She blinked, suddenly, furiously, as her eyes began to sting. "Reaper," Sam murmured beside her. Jayne swallowed again. "Dean," Sam pressed. "Is it after you?"

Her throat was dry, and her eyes were huge. Jayne watched with horror, a terrible sinking feeling in her stomach, as the planchette moved back towards the corner of the board.

_Yes._

She shook her head, staring at that awful little yes. She could feel Lynn staring at her, but she refused to look up from the board. "If it's here naturally," Sam murmured, the dread evident in his voice. "There's no way to stop it."

The last thing Jayne wanted to hear was Sam stating the obvious. She glared at the board. Her fingers were still sitting on the planchette. "Man," Sam whispered. "You're…"

_Dying._ That's what Dean was; he was _dying._ Jayne blinked furiously, her mind racing as she desperately tried to think up solutions.

"No," Sam said. "No, um… there's got to be a way."

His hands went up to his mouth, and then he scrambled up on his feet. "Sam?" Lynn asked in concern. Jayne didn't even spare him a glance.

"There's got to be a way," Sam repeated himself, turning in a circle and then stumbling towards the door. "Dad will know what to do."

"Wait!" Lynn called, standing up too. "Sam, I…" She trailed off desperately, turning to Jayne. "Jaynie, you… are you…"

"I'm fine," Jayne said evenly, still refusing to look up from the Ouija board. "Go check on Sam."

"No!" Lynn snapped. "I… you're not fine."

She tore her eyes away from the evil "yes," and looked at Lynn instead. Her sister was standing, bent at the waist, her dark eyes boring into Jayne's, full of concern. Jayne forced a small smile.

"Go," she insisted. "Unless you _want_ Sam to do something completely idiotic."

Lynn stared at her, clearly torn. But Jayne's little remark had gotten to her. After a minute, Lynn made a face and stomped her foot in aggravation. "Damn it!" she exclaimed.

She ran for the door, but froze at the threshold to level a warning finger in Jayne's direction. "I will be right back!" Lynn informed her. Then she disappeared down the hall.

Jayne looked back down at the Ouija board. Her fingers hadn't moved from the planchette. "Don't worry," she whispered. "I'm not going to let this happen. I'm going to stop this."

The planchette jerked under her fingers, this time gliding to the other corner of the board and stopping on the "No."

"Yes," Jayne insisted. "I'm not letting you die. I'm going to fix it."

Again, the planchette moved, this time headed back for the letters. As she watched, it began spelling out a word: _D_… _O… N… T…_

She let go of the planchette and angrily flipped the board over. It landed facedown, and the planchette skidded off into a corner of the room. Silence followed her small tantrum, and she stared at the far wall, not really seeing it, a fresh batch of tears rolling down her face as she spat out an answer to Dean's request.

"I'm not making any promises."

* * *

Sam tore down the hospital corridor, his stomach twisting in fear. He was shaking with desperation, determined to do something about this. Dean could not die. That was all there was to it. Reaper or no reaper, Sam refused to say goodbye to his brother. It was not Dean's time to go.

"Dad!" he shouted, flying into his father's room.

He stopped short at the sight of his father's empty bed. Swallowing, Sam stood still in the room, at the foot of the bed, his eyes fixed on the spot where John Winchester used to be. The man was gone. His father was gone – _again._ Why now? Why was it always when they needed him most?

"Sam!"

He whirled at Lynn's voice. She rushed into the room, and then she froze too, frowning down at the empty bed.

"He's gone," Sam informed her unnecessarily. His eyes were huge and wet and desperate as he fixed them on hers, pleading for a solution. "He's _gone_. Why is he always gone?"

Lynn shook her head slowly, directing a sad, small look in his direction. "Oh, Sam."

Well, she was no help at all. Sam turned his back on her immediately and started ripping apart the hospital room.

"Sam!" Lynn exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Saving Dean!"

He could feel her gawking at him, but for once she had nothing to say. Sam carried on like she wasn't there, still tearing apart the room. Blankets and pillows landed on the floor; the wheels of the bed skidded on the linoleum when he gave the thing a shove. Sam unzipped the duffel bag he'd brought in from the car and started yanking things out and throwing them over his shoulder.

The Colt was gone – of course the Colt was gone. John was gone, so the Colt would be too. Sam didn't have time to be angry, though. He kept rifling through the bag, searching for anything at all that might help Dean. Lynn lingered in the doorway, watching him with huge eyes, as though she was afraid he might go all suicidal or something.

He found it at the bottom of the bag – his father's weathered, leather-bound journal. Snatching it up, he rushed back out of the room, brushing past Lynn as he did so. He could hear her boots clacking on the linoleum behind him as she followed down the hall. Sam didn't stop – didn't even glance at her. He just kept running down the corridor until he reached Dean's room.

Jayne had picked up the Ouija board and righted the chair and now she was sitting by Dean's bed, staring at him. When Sam entered the room, she looked up at him hopefully, rising out of her seat.

"Dad wasn't in his room," he announced, sitting on the side of the bed and speaking to Dean. Jayne frowned at him, slowly lowering herself back into the chair. "But I got Dad's journal, so who knows? Maybe there's something in here."

Lynn appeared in the doorway. She leaned against the jamb and stared at him. Jayne was staring at him too. Sam just kept flipping through the pages of the journal, searching for the section on reapers. When he finally found it, he settled in to read the few pages dedicated to the creatures.

"There's not going to be anything in there," Jayne spoke up hoarsely. "We can't kill death." Sam ignored her. "Sam," she insisted. "We need a different plan."

"Like what?" he snapped.

"Deedee Hannigan gave me a summoning ritual."

"Got one of those already, thanks."

"It's not just any summoning ritual," Jayne retorted. "It's for the Crossroads demon."

"No," Lynn spoke up instantly. "Absolutely not."

Sam looked up from the journal, suddenly interested. "Crossroads demon?" he asked.

"It's not an option," Lynn returned. "We're not making deals with a demon."

"So you're talking about the Crossroads legend?" Sam asked, frowning. "And you have the summoning ritual?"

He shouldn't feel a surge of hope coursing through his body, but Sam did. Jayne met his eyes over Dean's bed and slowly nodded. Sam swallowed, trying not to get too excited. "But in the legend…"

"The price of your deal is always your soul?" Lynn interrupted scathingly. "I'm telling you both this is not going to happen."

"We don't have to sell our souls," Jayne replied. "I mean… yeah, demons seem real intent on getting those, but… come on. There's got be bigger, better prizes out there. Human souls are just… well, people suck."

"Oh, really?" Lynn retorted, raising her eyebrow. "And exactly what are these bigger, better prizes?"

Jayne took a deep breath, glancing at the floor. Sam frowned at her, and she slowly lifted her head to stare at both him and her sister. "We have the Colt."

Lynn scoffed by the door. "Seriously, think about it!" Jayne insisted. "It's a demon killing gun! What demon wouldn't want to get their hands on that?"

Sam frowned, mulling over the suggestion. "It's too risky," Lynn retorted. "Look, I know you two want to save Dean."

"We are _going_ to save Dean."

"Right. Got that. Look… and for the record I am totally against this… but I've been thinking about Sue Ann Le Grange from back in Nebraska, and…"

"Are you joking?" Jayne cut her sister off. "Are you really about to suggest a reaper binding spell? We're not trading lives for lives here, Lynn! Dean would flip the fuck out once he woke up!"

Lynn took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. "I agree. Remember? Totally against this. But we don't know exactly what Sue Ann did to keep the reaper away from her husband. When she started trading lives for lives, that was a whole other ball game. But I looked through those newspaper clippings myself, I saw the people Sue Ann offed in the name of religion or whatever. I couldn't find a corresponding death to match up with Roy's miraculous recovery. What if we bound the reaper that was after Dean, and the binding spell itself was enough?"

"We don't know that's how it will be!" Jayne snapped. "I'm not risking it."

"But you'll risk dealing with a Crossroads demon?"

"Hey, you're the one who wants to put a leash on a freaking reaper! And somehow, my crossroads plan is the stupid, reckless one? I don't think so!"

"They are all stupid, reckless, _horrible_ plans," Lynn returned, her voice low and too calm. "I am against all of them. All I'm trying to do right now is keep _you_ from finding yourself at a crossroads and ending up selling your soul to some demon like the damned fool idiot you can really, _really_ be sometimes."

Sam closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying not to hear their arguing. He couldn't deal with it right then. All he wanted to do was save his brother, but he couldn't think of anything – he couldn't _find_ anything. And Jayne and Lynn's plans? Well, he was desperate enough to try one, but he couldn't deny that they both sucked.

Sighing harshly, Sam opened his eyes and stared down at Dean, still lying comatose in the hospital bed. "We have to do _something_," he announced, his eyes fixed on his older brother. "It doesn't really matter what."

There was a long silence. He could feel both stepsisters staring at him as he stared at Dean. "We _are_ going to do something," Jayne said after a while. "So you pick, Sam. Which stupid, reckless, horrible plan are we going to try?"

He smirked slightly. "My dad disappeared on us."

Jayne's mouth twitched and Sam braced himself for her inevitable, disparaging comment about John Winchester. It never came. Jayne remained silent, waiting.

"He took the Colt," Sam breathed.

Jayne's shoulders slumped. He watched her deflate, all the air huffing out of her body. Lynn shook her head silently over by the door.

The three of them stood in the hospital room, staring at Dean's body, not saying a word. Sam could feel the helplessness returning. He didn't know what to do; he didn't know how to help his brother. His stomach lurched sickeningly. Sam was all out of solutions, and judging by the silence in the hospital room, he'd bet Lynn and Jayne were coming up empty too.

Dean really was going to die.

* * *

Dean hadn't stuck around his room long after the mishap with the Ouija board.

First, Jayne had come in there, right when he was panicking about seeing the reaper, and started rambling on about summoning rituals and crossroads demons and making deals. He'd seen red – gotten so angry he'd accidentally made contact with the real world again, and thrown a chair into the wall of the hospital room.

Which was exactly the reaction she'd been hoping for apparently. What the hell was she trying to do, piss him off back into his body?

Then Sam had come in with the Ouija board – finally someone with a plan he could get behind. Dean had been skeptical at first, made a few slumber party jokes, but to his amazement the board had worked and he'd been able to communicate with Sam, Jayne and Lynn.

Until Sam had stormed out of the hospital room to get their father – so determined that John Winchester would know how to stop a reaper – and Lynn had chased after him. Then Dean had tried to tell Jayne to stay the hell away from the crossroads, but apparently she wasn't in the mood to be lectured. She'd flipped the Ouija board over like a spoiled child who was losing at Monopoly.

Pain in the ass. Why did he have feelings for her again?

The answer to that was obvious, but Dean wasn't in the mood to think about it. He'd leaned against the window, watching Jayne clean up the Ouija board and the chair he'd tossed across the room.

Sam and Lynn had come back, sans Dean's father, but in possession of his father's journal. They'd all gotten down to business, reading through the journal in hopes of finding a solution.

"Thanks for not giving up on me," he'd said.

But then he'd seen the section of the journal that talked about reapers. He'd read the part about reapers altering reality around their victims.

That's when he'd seen red a second time and gone storming out of the room.

When he reached Tessa's dark hospital room, he found the young woman sitting on the edge of her empty bed, in the shadows and all alone. There was no body, there were no beeping machines, and there was no mourning mother. She was no longer wearing her hospital clothes; instead, she'd changed into jeans and a tank top. When he appeared in the doorway, she smiled almost sadly at him.

"Hi, Dean," she said, sounding as though she knew exactly why he'd come.

"You know, you read the most interesting things," he announced, smirking as he entered the room. "For example, did you know that reapers can alter human perception?" he snorted bitterly. "I sure didn't."

Tessa watched him pace the room, still sitting calmly on the edge of the bed. "Basically, they can make themselves appear however they want," he went on loudly. "Like say… a pretty girl."

She stared at him evenly. He glared back. "You're much prettier than the last reaper I met," he informed her.

"I was wondering when you'd figure it out," she replied.

He shook his head. "I should have known. That whole accepting fate rap of yours was far too laid back for a dead girl. But you know… the mother and the body? I'm still trying to figure that one out."

She shrugged. "It's my sandbox," Tessa replied gently. "I can make you see whatever I want."

"So what? Is this like a turn on for you?" he snapped. "Toying with me?"

"You didn't give me much choice," Tessa returned. "You saw my true form and you flipped out. Kind of hurts a girl's feelings."

He stared at her. She smiled slightly. "This was the only way I could get you to talk to me."

"Ok, fine," he bit back. "We're talking. What the hell do you want to talk about?"

She smiled softly at him again, rising slowly off the bed. "How death is nothing to fear." Her hand rested itself on her cheek, and Dean gasped. She was cold, and her touch froze him all the way through.

"It's your time to go, Dean. You're living on borrowed time already."

* * *

The scene in Dean's hospital room could have gone better, Lynn reflected ruefully as she leaned on the wall in the waiting room, sipping a cup of coffee. The scene in the hallway with her brother could have sucked less too. Sighing, she stared out the waiting room window, not really seeing the hospital landscaping that sat on the other side. She was at a loss for what to do.

That whole reaper-binding spell she'd been trying to pitch back there? She was glad beyond relief that no one had gone for it. The last thing Lynn wanted to do was pull a Sue Ann. Still, she'd had to suggest it. She'd had to give Jayne another option besides that stupid crossroads bullshit.

But now the Colt was gone, and Lynn began to worry again. Jayne's plan had hinged on their possession of that gun, and with the gun gone…

Lynn swallowed, hard. She didn't want Dean to die. But she couldn't deny that Dean's death was the most natural end to this horrific situation. They couldn't change the outcome without screwing something else up. Lynn just… she wasn't Sam, and she wasn't Jayne, and as much as she legitimately liked and cared about Dean, she wasn't about to break all kinds of crazy rules to bring him back from the dead.

She really hoped that Sam and Jayne wouldn't either.

"Hey."

Lynn looked up at the sound of her brother's voice, finding him standing at her side. He looked sheepish, and his eyes were trained on the floor. She smiled slightly at him. "Hey," she repeated.

Steve squinted up at her. "Look, about earlier…"

"You're sorry?"

He nodded. Lynn smiled again. "Yeah," she agreed. "Me too."

Silence followed their exchange. Steve took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," he said again. "But… I think I had a point."

Lynn pursed her lips and bit back a vicious retort. "That being said," Steve went on. "I'm going to head out."

She blinked at him. "Wait… you're _leaving_?"

"I came here to hunt a demon, Lynn. We're hanging out at a hospital. I feel for you and Jaynie, but… the Winchesters aren't exactly my pals."

Lynn stared at him, slowly shaking her head. "So… you're just going to abandon your sister when she needs you?"

Steve sighed, raising his eyebrow at her. "I'm not abandoning you, Lynn. I'm just getting back on the road."

"I wasn't talking about me."

There was a long silence. The two of them stared at one another, Steve managing to look both ashamed of himself and yet completely determined. Lynn just stared back at him, not sure whether she was surprised or pissed or if she'd actually been expecting this all along.

"Why do you have to leave now?" she asked.

He stared at her a moment longer. Then he shrugged. "I told you; I don't like what I see."

"So the solution is to just not see it?"

"I don't know. Are you two going to listen to me?"

Lynn had nothing to say to that. She just stared at him again, silent. He nodded, smirking slightly. "Right," he murmured. "See?"

"You can't always be telling _me_ this stuff, you know," she pointed out. "You haven't said a word to Jayne about all the crap you flung at me today."

He shrugged. "Her friend… boyfriend… whatever the hell he is… the guy's dying. I'm not getting on her case today."

Lynn nodded slowly, staring at him again. Steve sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. "I told you how I feel," he went on. "You two are getting sucked into this idiotic little Winchester doom spiral, and… I'm sorry. I can't stick around and watch."

_Winchester doom spiral_. She almost laughed, except it wasn't really all that funny. As much as she preferred having Sam and Dean in her life to _not_ having them, she couldn't deny that meeting the two brothers marked the beginning of the crap-fest that had recently been her life. Yet, she didn't blame them for it. The more she thought about it, the less she believed the _doom spiral_, as her brother called it, had anything to do with Sam _or_ Dean. In fact, she was almost positive that she and Jayne would have gotten sucked into said _doom spiral_ even if they'd never met the Winchesters at all.

She stared at Steve. He could run away, she decided, but he was still part of this doom spiral whether he liked it or not.

"All right," she said softly, forcing a smile for him. "Be safe, kay?"

He forced a smile too. "Back at you."

They exchanged a short hug, and then Lynn pulled back and slapped him on the shoulder. "Don't forget to call," she scolded him.

Steve nodded and rolled his eyes. "All right, all right."

"Bye, Steve."

"Bye, sis."

He turned away then and headed down the hall – away from the exit, she noted. She figured he planned on saying goodbye to Jayne in person, which was better than she'd expected. Lynn sighed, leaning against the waiting room wall again.

She was relatively positive that even if Dean managed to pull through this latest reaper mishap, things were going to get worse before they got better.

* * *

"Dean? Are you here?"

Sam stood at his brother's bedside, alone with him in the hospital room at last. He stared down at Dean's body, waiting for any sort of sign. None came. His question was answered only by the beeping of the machines.

He looked around the room. "I couldn't find anything in the book," he admitted. "Dad took the Colt. No one has a plan that doesn't come with serious collateral damage. Dean… I don't know how to help you. But I'll keep trying, all right? As long as you keep fighting."

Sam paused a moment, listening and waiting. Nothing happened. He forced a chuckle. "I mean, come on. You can't leave me alone with Dad. We'll kill each other; you know that."

Still nothing. He sighed, staring at his brother, breathing heavily. His eyes began to water. "Dean, you got to hold on," he pleaded. "You can't give in, not now. We were just starting to be brothers again."

It was too quiet in the room. Sam couldn't feel anything off, couldn't feel anything remotely Dean-like. He stood next to the bed, still staring down at his brother, occasionally glancing around the too cold, too silent, too empty room.

"Dean?" he asked again. "Can you hear me?"

All he got in response was the beeping of the machines.

* * *

Dean was still standing in that hospital room, and Tessa was still there too, lurking behind him, her eyes fixed on his back. He stared out the window, looking into the hospital corridor, shaking his head. "Look," he tried to reason with the reaper. "I'm sure you've heard this before, but you've got to make an exception. You've got to cut me a break."

"Stage three: bargaining."

Dean turned away from the window, moving towards Tessa. She watched him steadily, standing perfectly still. "I'm serious," he returned. "My family's in danger. You see, we're kind of in the middle of this… war... and they need me."

Tessa's voice was soft, but it held a tone of finality. "The fight is over."

"No, it isn't," he argued.

"It is for you."

He stood still and silent, gawking at her. "Dean," she murmured sympathetically. "You're not the first soldier I've plucked from the field. They all feel the same. They can't leave. Victory hangs in the balance. But they're wrong. The battle goes on without them."

"But my brother," Dean protested. "He could die without me."

Tessa shrugged. "Maybe he will. Maybe he won't. Nothing you can do about it."

The words hit home, and Dean flinched, his lip beginning to tremble. Wild-eyed, he turned away from her. She watched him with those big, dark, never wavering eyes of hers. "It's an honorable death," she assured him. "A warrior's death."

"I think I'll pass on the seventy-two virgins, thanks. I'm not that into prude chicks anyway."

Her smile was so pitying that it physically hurt to see it directed his way. "That's funny," she said. "You're very cute."

"There's no such thing as an honorable death," he snapped at her. "My corpse is going to rot in the ground, and all the people I care about are going to die!"

She just looked at him. Dean shook his head. "No," he said. "I'm not going with you. I don't care what you do."

"Well," Tessa nodded. "Like you said, there's always a choice. I can't make you come with me. But you're not getting back in your body, and that's just facts. So yes, you can stay. You'll stay here for years, disembodied, scared, and over the decades it will probably drive you mad. Maybe you'll even get violent."

"What are you saying?"

"Dean," she said, shaking her head again. "How do you think angry spirits are born? They can't let go, and they can't move on. And you're about to become one. The same thing you hunt."

The reality of his situation finally began to sink in. Slowly, Dean sat down on the edge of the hospital bed, staring at the floor. Tessa watched him for a brief moment, and then she crossed the room, sitting down beside him. He could feel her cold fingers on the back of his neck, soothing him. "It's time to leave the pain behind you," she murmured.

"And go where?" he retorted.

"Sorry," she replied. "I can't give away the big punch line."

Dean sat still and silent, glaring at the floor. Slowly, Tessa removed her hand from his back. "Moment of truth," she said. "No changing your mind later. So what's it going to be?"

He looked at her over his shoulder. She was still staring at him. It was surprising to him, how empathetic she could seem, when everything she said was so final. He never expected empathy from death.

Before he could speak, before he could make a decision, the lights began to flicker. Dean frowned, and Tessa glanced around them, seemingly on edge. He stood up quickly, moving away from her. "What are you doing that for?"

She shook her head, frowning back. "I'm not doing it."

Dean didn't entirely believe her – at first. But then the black smoke seeped into the room through the vent at the base of the wall.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed.

"No!" Tessa shrieked at the smoke. "You can't do this! Get away!"

"What's happening?"

Dean gaped at the cloud of black smoke, still backing away. As he watched, horrified, the smoke funneled directly into Tessa's mouth. She shrieked as the smoke choked her. Dean stood still, shocked, having no idea what to do, and no ability to do anything but watch.

The smoke vanished. Tessa whirled around. Her eyes were yellow.

"Today's your lucky day, kid," she rasped.

Then she put her hand on his forehead, and everything went black.

* * *

Jayne marched down the hallway, back towards Dean's room. She'd tried to give Sam some alone time with his brother, but not being in Dean's room made her anxious. It didn't make any sense, but this tiny part of her seemed to think that if she let Dean out of her sight for too long, he'd vanish.

It was stupid and pathetic, but whatever. She couldn't be bothered to care. Jayne was almost to the hospital room when her little brother came around the corner, stopping directly in front of her. They blinked at one another in surprise. "Whoa," she said. "Uh… hey."

Steve nodded, shoving his hands awkwardly into his coat pockets. "Hey," he replied. "Um… I was looking for you."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Well… I'm heading out, actually. I just… wanted to say goodbye."

Jayne blinked at him for a moment, letting the words sink in. "You're leaving."

He winced. "Yeah."

It made sense, actually. There was nothing for him here – well, nothing except his sisters. Jayne took a deep breath and shrugged. "Ok. Um… thanks for being here."

He nodded. "Call if you need anything."

"Of course."

She wouldn't. Not unless it was about the demon, or Lynn.

Steve hugged her, and Jayne pulled him in close, struggling with the side of her that was suddenly very pissed at him. Then they pulled apart and Jayne forced a smile for him.

"See you around, kid."

He smirked. "See you, Jaynie."

Her brother turned and walked away. She watched him go. Jayne wasn't happy about him leaving, but if she was being perfectly honest, it didn't hurt as much as usual. She waited until he disappeared around the corner, and then she ducked into Dean's room.

"How is he?" she asked Sam. He was standing on the other side of Dean's bed, staring down at his brother.

Sam shrugged. "Same."

The two of them stood there silently for a moment, both staring at Dean. "When my dad gets back," Sam whispered. "Maybe we can…"

"Right," Jayne nodded. "It's an idea."

Silence followed their short exchange.

Sam sighed suddenly. "Jayne, I've been thinking, and…"

He never finished telling her what he'd been thinking. Suddenly, Dean's machine started beeping like haywire. Jayne tensed up, jolting forward. Sam jumped. "What the hell?" Jayne breathed.

"Oh my god," Sam exclaimed.

Dean sat straight up in bed, gasping for air. The tube fell from his lips, and he started coughing. Jayne sucked in a harsh, surprised breath, clasping her hands over her mouth. "Dean!" Sam exclaimed. Jayne backed away from the bed, wide-eyed.

"Help!" Sam roared out the door. "I need help!"

Dean's eyes darted around the room as he thrashed around in the bed, choking on his oxygen. Jayne swallowed, ducking back to avoid the sudden onslaught of nurses that had come rushing in to help.

He'd woken up on his own.

She definitely hadn't expected that.

* * *

Something was very, _very_ wrong.

Dean was sitting up in bed, still trying to understand what had happened. The doctor was hovering over him, going over his vitals, and explaining his condition to his brother. Sam was standing beside him, looking a little too excited for Dean's tastes.

"I can't explain it," the doctor was saying. "The edema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You got some kind of angel watching over you."

Dean nodded uncomfortably at the man. "Thanks doc."

He was positive this wasn't the work of any angel.

The doctor turned and left the room. Dean frowned up at Sam, who was still standing at his bedside. Lynn had taken up vigil on the opposite side of the bed, and Jayne was hiding over on the wall, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes on the floor.

"You said a reaper was after me?" he asked them.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"How'd I ditch it?"

"You got me."

Dean looked away, his eyebrows stitched together, trying his damndest to remember. He felt like it was important – that he was missing an important piece of the puzzle – several important pieces. There was something – lots of things, actually – that he needed to remember, but no matter how hard he strained his brain, he kept coming up blank.

"You really don't remember anything?" Sam asked.

He shook his head. "No… except this pit in my stomach. Sam, something's wrong."

The pit was still there, too. Dean didn't understand what was wrong; he just knew something was. All of a sudden he felt very motherly fingers caress his hair, and he nearly flew out of his skin. Lynn smiled down at him, her fingers still on his head. "Maybe that's a good thing," she said with a too bright, very forced smile. "That you don't remember."

Dean nodded uncertainly, trying to smile back. Lynn glanced across the room at her sister. "Hey, Sam," she said. "You think John's back? We should tell him the good news."

Sam nodded too. "Right, sure. Of course." He smiled at Dean. "It's good to have you back, man."

Sam headed around the foot of the bed towards the door. Lynn followed, smiling at him over her shoulder. "Missed you, Dean," she said before disappearing out into the hall.

Dean watched them go, still feeling awkward and sick and confused. He folded his arms defensively over his stomach. Then he looked at Jayne.

She looked up from the floor and met his gaze. He was startled to see tears in her eyes.

"Jayne…" he whispered.

Jayne slowly pushed herself off the wall and took a few steps towards him. Dean watched her, his eyes wide, swallowing hard. She jogged the rest of the way across the room and leapt up onto the bed, throwing herself at him. He flinched at the jostling impact, but that didn't stop Jayne from smashing her lips against his.

He was surprised, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to kiss her back. Jayne's hands were wrapped around his face, and her lips were demanding against his. She was leaning into him, kissing him desperately. Dean kissed back, equally desperate, equally hungry, but moving slower, with less force. He wrapped his arms around her waist, trying not to wince every time she bumped against a sore spot.

Someone cleared their throat from the doorway. Jayne jerked back in surprise and Dean's eyes swung guiltily towards the door. His face lit up. John was standing there, smirking at the two of them.

"How you feeling, Dean?" he asked.

Seriously, his father walking in on him and Jayne in compromising situations was really starting to become a habit. Jayne sheepishly pulled herself off him, perching herself on the edge of the bed. Dean shrugged. "Fine, I guess," he answered his father's question. "I'm alive."

John smirked again. "That's what matters."

Jayne was frowning at the man. "Hello, John," she rasped out. The words startled Dean – she hadn't spoken this much the entire time he'd been awake. "Haven't seen you in awhile."

His father narrowed his eyes at her. Jayne stared back, raising her eyebrow at him. Dean frowned. He was missing something.

"Jayne," his father said evenly. "You think I could talk to Dean for a moment?"

Dean looked at Jayne. She was still eyeing his father, but despite the hard look on her face, she still nodded and got to her feet. "Sure thing."

He watched her walk out the door. John glanced after her, and then stepped all the way inside the room. Dean frowned again. His father looked nervous, and anxious, like he thought he was late for an important appointment. "What is it?" Dean asked.

"You know," John said softly. "When you were a kid, I'd come home from a hunt, and after… after what I'd seen? I'd be wrecked."

Dean frowned at him.

"But you… you'd come up to me, and you'd put your hand on my shoulder, and you'd look me in the eye and you'd say…"

John trailed off, choking a little. Dean could see him fighting back tears, and he didn't know what to say or what to do. He stared at his father, and John smiled at him.

"You'd say, 'It's ok, Dad.'"

There was a brief silence. Dean looked away, his breath catching in his throat, more certain than ever that something was wrong. John shook his head. "Dean, I'm sorry."

"Why?" he asked quietly, frowning at his father again.

"You shouldn't have had to say that to me. I should have been saying that to you. You know… I put too much on your shoulders. I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy; you took care of me. You did that, and you didn't complain – not once."

He didn't know what to say. Dean stared at his father, confused, afraid… at a complete loss for words. A single tear escaped his father's eye. "I just want you to know," John went on. "That I am _so_ proud of you."

Dean attempted a shaky smirk. "Is this really you talking?" he tried to joke.

His father smiled back, his grin every bit as shaky as Dean's, as another tear rolled down his cheek. "Yeah, it's really me."

"Why are you saying this stuff?"

The grin faded. His father stepped closer to the bed and took him by the shoulder. "I want you to watch out for Sammy, ok?"

"Yeah, Dad. You know I will." His father stared at him, still shedding tears. "You're scaring me."

"Don't be scared, Dean," John said, trying to smile again. And then John leaned over and began to whisper in his ear.

Now, he sounded more like his father. The things he whispered were dark things, about demons, and about Sam. Dean whipped his head around to gawk incredulously at John, but the man pulled away, gave him a final smile, and then a nod. Dean just stared at him, not knowing how to absorb what had been said, not knowing what to do with it, what to say back.

Before he could think of anything, John had turned away and walked out the door. Dean watched him go, left alone to remember what his father had told him, all the while wishing he could forget.

* * *

Jayne was leaning on the wall, only one door down from the Dean's hospital room. Her heart was pounding too hard in her chest, and she could feel her stomach turning over and over and over inside her. Inhaling shakily, she folded her arms in front of her and glared at the wall across from her.

_Dean was alive_. He was _awake_. He didn't remember a damn thing.

Maybe Lynn was right. Maybe that was good thing. Jayne didn't know – it didn't feel like a good thing, but she'd been wrong before. Above all else, she didn't really care. Dean was alive. As John said, that was all that mattered.

But how was he alive? Jayne wasn't stupid – she knew damn well no one shook a reaper.

John stepped out of his son's room, his face red and wet from crying. Jayne straightened, stepping off the wall. He caught her eye and grimaced. Clearly, he wasn't in the mood for a chat.

He tried to walk on past, but Jayne wasn't having it. "Where were you last night?" she asked.

John barely spared her a glance. "None of your business."

She darted in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. "Bull. Wherever you went, you took the Colt. So as far as I'm concerned, that means you either went demon hunting, _or_…"

Before she could get to the 'or,' John had interrupted her. "Look," he grit out. "I'm not looking for a fight."

"Well, too bad," she retorted. "I am. You got a long sad history of ducking out when he needs you, you know that? Particularly when he's dying. I got to hope you have a better excuse this time around."

John stared at her a long time. She waited for him to yell, or make some snide comment, or even walk away. He didn't do any of those things. After a moment, he smiled. "You're right," he agreed. "I never have been much of a father to Dean. He deserved better."

It was enough to leave her speechless. Jayne gawked at him, not believing her ears. It wasn't so much what he'd said, but the fact that he'd said it to her – she'd never have expected it, not in a million years.

"You always seem to be looking out for him," John went on. Jayne continued to gawk at him. "He needs that. I'm glad."

Jayne opened her mouth, trying to stutter out some sort of retort, but John beat her to the punch. "I ain't going to be around forever," he said. "You're going to take care of him, aren't you?"

She didn't understand where this was coming from. She couldn't comprehend why the man might be saying all this to _her._ Slowly, she nodded.

"Of course," she whispered.

John smiled again, and gave her a nod. Then he brushed past her and headed off down the hall. Jayne turned to watch him go. It was starting to fall into place – she was starting to understand. She had suspected from the moment he'd arrived in Dean's hospital room, if she was being totally honest with herself.

"John," she called after him. "What did you do?"

He stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. She stared back, her eyes hard. The man smirked again. He _winked_ at her. "You know, for a blonde? You're a pretty smart gal."

Before that moment, Jayne had never really made the connection between Dean and John. They didn't really look alike, and she had refused to see anything of Dean in the man who so continuously let him down. But right then, she saw it. For the first time, she saw Dean in John, and it kind of scared the crap out of her.

It also confirmed her suspicion in the most sickening way. She watched him turn his back to her again, and head off down the hallway. Her eyes began to sting.

When he disappeared around the corner, Jayne shook her head and marched into the hospital room. Dean was sitting in his bed, looking like someone had kicked his puppy. She didn't say a word. He didn't look at her. Jayne plopped herself next to him on the bed and hugged him tight.

* * *

John still wasn't in his room, and Sam was annoyed. He shook his head, his fist going up to his mouth so his teeth could graze his knuckles. Lynn was standing by the door, staring at his back, and Sam refused to make eye contact with her. He didn't want to see the pity he was sure would be in her eyes.

"I can't believe him," he hissed against his fist.

Lynn sighed. "Sam, maybe it's not what you think."

He scoffed. "Right. Maybe my dad didn't go running off to have some stupid macho showdown with the demon while Dean was fighting for his life in the hospital. I mean… it doesn't _sound_ like my dad… oh, wait. Yes, it does."

Sam was seriously pissed, and he couldn't help the attitude. Lynn just shook her head at him, tilting her head and giving him the disappointed eyes. He looked away.

"John," Lynn said suddenly, sounding surprised. Sam whirled around so he was facing the door, shocked at the sudden arrival of his father. John stood in the door, fully dressed but looking tired, his arm still in the sling. He nodded at Lynn.

"Lynn," he greeted her. "Sammy."

Sam tensed, staring his father down. "Where were you last night?" he demanded.

His father's return stare was too calm and too even to be real. "I had some things to take care of."

Sam nodded. "Well, that's specific."

John narrowed his eyes. Lynn swooped in. "Dean's awake," she announced brightly, turning to John. "I don't know if you wanted to see him…"

"I did already," he interrupted her, but not unkindly. He even smiled slightly at her. Sam frowned. "Thank you."

"Did you go after the demon?" Sam asked.

Lynn looked distinctly uncomfortable, folding her arms over her chest and lowering her eyes to the floor. His father sighed. "No."

"You know, why don't I believe you right now?"

John took a deep breath. "Can we not fight?"

Sam gawked at him. His father smirked. "Half the time we're fighting, I don't even know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads."

It was an odd thing to hear come out of his father's mouth, and Sam wasn't sure what to do with it. Frowning, he looked down at the floor, confused.

"Sammy, I've made some mistakes," John admitted, which threw Sam even further for a loop. "But I've always done the best I could. I just… don't want to fight anymore, ok?"

Sam frowned again. "Dad… are you all right?"

His father chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired."

Sam wasn't convinced. He frowned at his father a little longer. John gave him another smile. "Hey, son, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?"

He stared at John for another moment, and then nodded awkwardly. "Yeah… yeah, sure."

Slowly, he moved towards the door. His father stepped out of the way, and Sam frowned at him as he passed by, still not sure what was going on. John was still smiling at him as he walked out the hospital room, Lynn following behind him.

They made their way up the hall, towards the waiting room. "That was weird," Sam announced.

Lynn shrugged. "Dean's awake, everyone's fine… maybe it's like he said. John just doesn't want to fight anymore. Seems reasonable to me."

Sam shook his head. "No," he disagreed. "Something's going on with him."

She didn't say much else, and neither did he. Lynn disappeared into Dean's room when they passed by it, and Sam carried on the coffee mission without her.

When he came back to his father's hospital room, coffee cup in hand, he found John lying flat and still on the floor, lifeless. Sam froze in the hallway, gawking at the sight as the coffee slipped from his fingers and hit the ground. He ran into the room, shaking his father, shouting out for help.

Help came, but nothing could be done. Sam stood in the hallway, watching from the door. Dean limped out of his hospital room and came to watch with him, both of them wide-eyed and horrified, Dean muttering panicked words of encouragement at their father. The paddles came out, the doctor performed CPR… nothing worked.

"All right, I'm calling it," the doctor announced, and Sam flinched at the words. "Time of death, 10:41 am."

* * *

It was pitch black out – the dead of night. They'd built the funeral pyre at the end of an old dirt road, way out in the back of an empty field. A dark line of trees lurked behind them, and the only light came from the fire burning in front of them.

Lynn took a deep breath, staring at the flames. It was relatively cool out, but the heat coming off the fire was making sweat bead on her forehead. The whole situation was surreal, she decided. She hadn't known John very long at all, but he'd been a _force_ the whole time she'd been with him, and for him to just be gone – just like that – it was weird.

Sam's face was wet, and more tears were spilling down his cheeks. He was sniffling, trying desperately to reign it all in, but he was failing. Lynn did the only thing she could think of – she slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze.

He didn't pull away and it legitimately surprised her.

She had to admit, it felt odd even _being_ there in the clearing, watching the funeral pyre burn. It felt private, like maybe it ought to have just been the boys. But Sam and Dean had just assumed they'd be there, helping build the pyre, watching it burn.

Dean was just staring at the fire, blank-faced. Lynn looked over at Jayne and made eye contact. Her sister just looked… troubled. Confused. Upset? Lynn couldn't tell anymore.

They stood out there a very long time. Sam sniffed loudly and turned his head to look at Dean. "Before he… before he died…" Sam choked on the words, shaking his head, the tears clogging up his throat. Lynn gave his hand another squeeze. "Did he say anything to you?" he asked. "About anything?"

Dean glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye, and then he shook his head. There was a long silence.

"No," Dean finally whispered. "Nothing."

Lynn could have sworn she saw one tear escape Dean's eye and roll down his cheek.

For a long time, they stood there, watching the flames sputter and die as John Winchester's body turned to ash. Once he was gone, they buried the remains of the pyre, and erected a plain wooden cross. By the time they were finished, it was well past three in the morning. The four of them didn't speak as they gathered up their shovels and headed for Jayne's truck.

They all tossed their stuff into the bed, and then Sam and Dean clambered into the back too, taking their seats with their backs against the cab. Lynn swallowed, stealing glances at them as she climbed into the passenger seat. Jayne hopped up beside her and slammed the door.

The engine turned over and Jayne put the truck into gear. It rattled noisily as they bumped and shuddered their way down the dirt road. Jayne's eyes were fixed determinedly on the road ahead of them, and Lynn felt her throat close up. She had to fight the sudden urge to cry.

"You think they'll be all right?" she asked her sister.

Jayne shrugged.

Her silence was anything but comforting. Lynn studied her lap, trying to be positive, but it was practically impossible. She felt like she was drifting, stranded in no-man's land. She didn't know where any of them stood, or what was next.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Bobby Singer's junkyard," Jayne replied. "You met the guy, right? I hope he's not a dick."

Lynn chuckled in spite of herself. "Seemed ok to me."

Silence followed their short exchange. Lynn picked at her fingernails, her eyes cast distantly on the dashboard. "John's dead," she murmured.

Jayne glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. "Yep."

"The Colt's gone."

Jayne nodded, her hands tightening visibly on the steering wheel.

Lynn took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "What do we do now?"

There was another long silence. Then Jayne shrugged again. "Stick together," she murmured softly. "Figure it out… together."

Steve's words were echoing around Lynn's head – words about doom spirals and doormats and how he didn't recognize his sisters anymore. She tried to shut him out, but he was still in there, still talking, still making her second guess her decisions.

"They need us," she said out loud.

Jayne nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

Lynn nodded too, staring out the window. She was a quiet a moment, and then she said, "We're still going get that demon, gun or no gun."

Jayne smirked slightly. "Yeah," she agreed. "Guess that means we've got work to do."

Lynn smiled at her sister, and then leaned against the door. They fell silent again, and Lynn stared out the windshield, her eyes trying to make sense out of the dark road and the dark trees that lined their route.

One thing was for certain – they did have a _lot_ of work to do.

* * *

End Volume One


End file.
